The Business of Cow
A 3-Part Series Short Story about the life of early cattle traders in West Africa
Saadou, a 37-year-old man hailing from the northeast, traversed his homeland, bound for the forested northern province of a neighboring West African country. His purpose? To sell his herd of 75 cows, accompanied by Tegedantay, a five-year-old girl, and Sulieman, a 10-year-old boy.
The trio faced the task of crossing a murky river to access the northern province. Their vessel, a sizable raft ferry propelled by an outboard motor, was crafted from securely bound wooden logs, connected with robust nautical ropes.
On the opposite bank, awaited two prominent cow traders—Ailemu and Shaiku—anticipating their arrival. Ailemu, with wide eyes and a pot belly, possessed an insatiable drive for profit, willing to engage in business with anyone offering cows for sale, be it 10 or just a lone sickly cow. Ailemu inherited the family cow business, combining his father's teachings with a tenacious work ethic. In under two years, despite not knowing how to write his own name, he expanded the enterprise from 15 cows and 27 acres to a staggering 350 cows and over 1000 hectares of land.
Shiaku, a short and stout man with hardly any neck, also inherited the family cow business and rapidly grew it to an admirable 300 cows operation and more than 1000 hectares farm estate, complete with other livestock such as goats and chickens as well as a highly sought after view of the mountains. Having completed secondary schooling, Shaiku focused on securing the most substantial deals or engaging with significant sellers to meet his annual quota of 50 cows. “Smart work and not hard work,” a motto he preached to the 30 men under his employment.
In the northern province, buying or selling cows inevitably involved dealing with either Ailemu or Shaiku, who dominated the province completely. Thus, a fierce rivalry extended not only between the two traders but also among their respective teams of workers. While public interactions adhered to pleasantries—as custom dictates—between the duo, behind the scenes, workers often endured screechees of "that fat illiterate rat" or "no neck fool" when a deal slipped through to the opposing party.
On the eve before Saadou, Tegedantay, Sulieman, and their cattle were set to reach the river crossing, Ailemu and Shiaku meticulously briefed their seasoned salesmen, Abu and Ibrahim, on the art of persuasion. The tall and slender herder's imminent arrival had been the talk of the town, with scouts and messengers providing detailed insights two weeks prior. Reports raved about the cows' robust size, their smooth and well-fed appearance, and their ease of rumination when at rest.
That evening over dinner with his wife and four children, Ailemu could barely contain his excitement for the potential deal that was about to arrive at his doorstep tomorrow. “This one is the big one!” he repeatedly shouted over dinner. The plan was for Abu to handle the negotiations, as he had done countless times before with other herdsmen. However, as the night wore on, Ailemu's unease grew. This deal was no ordinary deal like the many others Abu had closed for him; it’s a deal that required his special attention and “hard-work hands” in order to ensure a favorable outcome. The reports about the 75 cows from his scouts and messengers were more than encouraging—reports he hadn't heard describing a cattle herd not since his father's time.
Thus, two hours past midnight on the day of the deal, Ailemu, forsaking sleep, rose from his comfortable bed, careful not to disturb his deep-sleeping wife. He promptly dispatched messages to Abu and alerted his house girls to have his favorite gown pressed and ready by Fajr along with a gleaming white babouche, part of his many collections (of various colors) sourced from the finest Moroccan merchants.
The morning unfolded with an unusual dreariness, a mild fog shrouding the surroundings. Shiaku’s salesman, Ibrahim, strained his eyes against the river's mist, discerning shadowy figures and large four legged beasts on the other side. Having skipped breakfast after the first light of dawn, he had arrived early, eager to meet the man who had been the subject of his boss's fascination for weeks. Ibrahim had closed many deals for Shiaku before and was a trusted confidant due to having an eye for the “smart deals'' and quickly fulfilling the 50 cows quota early on in the year, giving his boss time to focus on other matters which range from spending more quality time with his two sons and daughter to tending to livestock on his farm estate.
Overlooking the shore on a hard muddy hill, Ibrahim placed his hand above his eyes and squinted like an explorer looking for land. “That’s them.” Coming out of the fog and gliding ever closer to the northern province shore were 25 cows (according to Ibrahim’s count) and a gangly boy holding the hand of a short pudgy little girl. Upon seeing the 25 cows, Ibrahim’s heart raced and then he remembered that the raft ferry was only so big enough to hold 50 human occupants at a time.
After the two children and 25 cows landed and got off on the shore, the ferryman, without hesitation, turned around his raft ferry and disappeared back into the fog. Couple minutes passed and another 25 cows were seen from the fog before being dropped off on shore with the two children. Another couple minutes later and all the cows were safely on shore. Seeing the cattle for himself, Ibrahim licked his lips as he kept counting and recounting each cow one by one. They were definitely the biggest cows he had seen in all his past dealings. Even better, none of them appeared sick or old for that matter as each was able to sit, stand and move around rather gracefully.
The last occupant to emerge from the fog and arrive on shore was Saadou, donning a black gown. Ibrahim got a clear look at the light-skinned and pony-tailed cattle herder everybody was raving about. True, he was tall—just as the scouts and messengers described — but not skinny, at least not by Ibrahim’s standards. Eying the cattle herder as he organized his herd, Ibrahim expected the man to be much skinnier, and certainly should not have broad shoulders and muscular arms at that. In fact, the only thing skinny about the man was his long and lanky legs, barely covered by loose black trousers that stopped far short of the ankles.
“Where’s that big head?” Ibrahim murmurmered. Noon was approaching and he had not seen any signs of Abu. He loved the feeling of winning deals over Abu. Throughout the years, they engaged in back and forth battles on who could win the most deals over the other: battles when tallied altogether would likely show an even score. Unlike their bosses, they were not shy to hurl insults directly at one another when jostling to entice herders to relinquish their precious commodities at a favorable price. “Big head asshole!” “Black bastard!” Some of the favorite insults of choice that could be heard all along the river’s shore, in addition to hisses and teeth-sucking.
Ibrahim felt a hand on his right shoulder. “Ah, I thought you were too scared to come, big head. Afraid I am going to whip you again.”
“Never afraid, Ibrahima,” said the bassy voice.
Ibrahim froze for a moment, feeling the coolness of the sweat running down from his forehead and armpits. He without a doubt recognized the voice but questioned why he was hearing it: at the river of all places.
“What?” the voice said. “Eh, you not going to look at me?”
Ibrahim turned around slowly, hoping that if he moved carefully enough, the voice would vanish and he would once again see the familiar forehead he’d been accustomed to seeing at the river all these years. “Sorry…sa,” Ibrahim said, sounding defeated as his eyes settled on the fat face and big grin of his boss’ longtime rival. There were four houseboys who stood behind him.
“Ibrahima, you look not well,” Ailemu said, wearing a creaseless bright white gown and kufi hat. “Do you want me to send you to my doctor?”
“No…sa,” Ibrahim said, caressing his sweaty forehead. “I thought…Abu—”
“Change of the fate, my son. I will be taking over for Abu.” Ailemu walked past Ibrahim—followed by his 4 houseboys—and stood at the edge of the hill, rubbing his hands and salivating at all he had been waiting for the past 3 weeks. “So this is the big one, eh… Mashallah.”
Ibrahim heard his stomach growling with impatience. It had been growling all morning since arriving at the river but his sales tactic (practiced over and over with Shaiku in the night’s prior) to close the deal along with excitement to beat Abu had kept his mind preoccupied. Now, with the thought of having to outmaneuver Ailemu, Ibrahim wished he had listened to his nagging wife and ate something before leaving home. He never competed with Ailemu before on a deal. Matter of fact, he did not remember ever seeing Ailemu at the river; it was always his “big head” and short salesman negotiating and closing deals on his behalf. Still, he had heard stories (lots of stories) about the “big belly man” and his callous way of doing business from not only his boss but also from other smaller cow traders. “Getting in the middle of Ailemu and money is like being in middle of a wolf and a sick sheep,” as bluntly put by a small inland trader who insisted on a private conversation.
"Ibrahima, come my son," the voice beckoned, its resonance cutting through the air.
Like a doomed sailor answering the call of a siren, Ibrahim walked with heavy steps towards the voice. When he finally (and reluctantly) made it to the edge of the hill, a blubbery hand wrapped around and covered him like a robe.
“Don’t worry about Shaiku,” Ailemu said, pulling Ibrahim closer. He reached inside his big gown, pulled out and plopped a bundle of cash—folded and tied up in a rubber band—on the man’s thumping chest. “Take this and if he throws you out because of today, come to me. You don’t need to lie. Tell him it was me, not Abu. You are a good seller, Ibrahima. Allah knows I’m grateful to those who help me.” Ailemu released Ibrahim, who bent his head down, took his earnings for the day and scurried away.
With the competition out of the way, Ailemu shifted his attention to the impending transaction.
Thank You for Reading!
Subscribe to make sure you don’t miss future stories and series. Subscribers get first access to next week’s story:
