BOYAYYEN YARIMA Complete Document Written By Salma Yar lelen Royal Star

Description

In the western reaches of Sudan resides a tribe deeply entangled in the tumult of the Darfur War, predominantly communicating through the Fur language. These desert dwellers forsake conventional attire, embracing a primal existence akin to untamed pagans. Men, with the exception of Bante, eschew refined clothing, while women leave their upper bodies exposed to the elements.

Bound by Sunni Islam, the tribe staunchly rejects any alternative religious doctrines. Mounted on horses, a group of roughly twenty individuals—uniform in appearance, yet featuring both fair and dark complexions—moves tranquilly across the landscape. Strikingly different from their counterparts, some bear an oily sheen under the sun. Adorned in shields stretching from Earth to Heaven, their garments emulate Hiram’s style, partially shaved on one side and enveloped in cloth resembling a hat. Foreheads are wrapped, large knives secured at their waists—a manifestation of their readiness for war.

One distinct figure among them conceals his entire face, with piercing blue eyes standing in stark contrast to the whites of his companions’ eyes. Uniquely attired, he remains a solitary exception to the otherwise homogenous group. As they traverse the land, their arrival in a town marked by huts is accompanied by jubilant music from the elder residents. Celebratory dances unfold, resonating with the joy of their people’s triumphant return from war.

Upon nearing the town, the horse-mounted group dismounts to extend greetings to the local king and residents. However, Bidiri, astride his horse, remains unmoved and unresponsive, his face concealed by a white cloth. Undeterred, his horse maneuvers through the city with an unwavering determination, uninterrupted by the townsfolk who recognize his resolute intent.

Gazing upon the picturesque town, Bidiri forges ahead until reaching the village’s central hut. He dismounts, securing his horse, and proceeds to visit every dwelling in Garin Girma. Exhausted from his journey, he returns to his house, reclining on the Abun Shimfiðar beside him. Succumbing to weariness, he falls into a deep slumber, awakening only to the enchanting nighttime melodies that fill the air—an auditory backdrop to his rest. Attempting to shut out the music, Bidiri lays there, wrapped in the tranquility of the night.

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