right, then, isn’t it?’ said Sophie. ‘I suppose YOU thought that shoving that dart into Chobbal’s backside was A SUPERB PIECE OF STRATEGIC RACING?’
‘No,’ said Hussein.
‘Good,’ said Sophie. ‘Because if you did, I would buy one for YOUR backside.’
With that, she turned and pushed her way through the crowd and walked away as fast as she could, Saman’s laughter ringing in her ears.
Chapter 12
On market day Gidaado did not come to Sophie’s house. She went to the animal market and found him there, standing with Chobbal not far from the other camel-sellers. She was surprised at how peaceful Gidaado seemed.
‘Aren’t you angry?’ she asked.
‘A bit,’ he said. ‘But there is nothing I can do now, is there?’
‘You could strangle Saman, for a start,’ said Sophie. ‘Look, he’s coming this way.’
‘No,’ said Gidaado quietly. ‘Strangling the winner is forbidden in the rules of the race. Besides, he’s bigger than me.’
‘I warn you,’ said Sophie, flexing her fingers. ‘If you won’t do it, I will.’
Sam Saman strolled up to them. He was wearing a pair of shiny new shoes and eating a banana.
‘ Salam alaykum ,’ said Saman.
‘ Alaykum asalam ,’ said Gidaado.
‘Selling the camel?’
‘Yes.’
‘Times are hard, are they?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll do you a favour,’ said Saman. ‘Give me the albino camel and I’ll give you the rest of this banana.’
Sophie opened her mouth to say something, but her attention was caught by a Land Rover zooming in through the gates of the animal market. What was going on? Usually vehicles were not allowed in amongst the animals.
The Land Rover circled a few times and then came and stopped right in front of them. The passenger door opened and a man in army uniform stepped out.
Then the back doors opened and two more people got out. One of them was a giant of a man dressed in black. The other was a red-haired girl carrying a camel-skin handbag. Sophie groaned inwardly as she recognized Marie.
‘ Bon soir ,’ said the uniformed man, holding out a large hand to Gidaado. ‘They told me I would find you here.’
‘ Alaykum asalam ,’ said Gidaado, shaking the hand and gawping at the medals on the man’s uniform. They were mounted neatly on three strips of leather and they gleamed in the dazzling midday sun.
‘Is this him?’ said the man in French.
Marie nodded.
‘And this is his translator?’
‘Yes,’ said Marie.
‘What is your name, translator-girl?’ said the man, holding out his hand to Sophie.
‘Sophie,’ she said, taking it.
‘I am General Alai Crêpe-Sombo,’ said the man. ‘You have already met my daughter.’
‘Yes,’ said Sophie.
‘And this is Pougini, my bodyguard,’ said the General.
Sophie glanced at the giant and noticed a mean-looking truncheon in his belt.
‘Sophie,’ said General Crêpe-Sombo, ‘tell your friend that I have been listening to his cassette all week. Marie here plays it so loudly in her room that everyone in the house is forced to listen to it.’
Sophie translated the General’s words into Fulfulde and Gidaado’s eyes widened.
‘Has he come to murder me?’ he said.
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Saman, admiring the giant’s truncheon. Saman did not understand French, but he was listening in on Sophie’s translations with great interest.
‘Usually,’ continued the General, ‘I am not a fan of my daughter’s music. She is fond of le rap , a sound which I detest more than the taunts of an enemy army on the far bank of a fast-flowing river.’
Sophie translated and Gidaado nodded sympathetically.
‘But you ,’ said the General, poking Gidaado in the chest, ‘ you I like.’
When Sophie translated, Gidaado puffed out his cheeks with relief.
‘I may not understand Fulfulde,’ said the General, ‘but I can tell a good griot when I hear one. And my daughter tells me that you are the best griot in Oudalan.’
Sophie translated. Gidaado grinned
‘No,’ said Hussein.
‘Good,’ said Sophie. ‘Because if you did, I would buy one for YOUR backside.’
With that, she turned and pushed her way through the crowd and walked away as fast as she could, Saman’s laughter ringing in her ears.
Chapter 12
On market day Gidaado did not come to Sophie’s house. She went to the animal market and found him there, standing with Chobbal not far from the other camel-sellers. She was surprised at how peaceful Gidaado seemed.
‘Aren’t you angry?’ she asked.
‘A bit,’ he said. ‘But there is nothing I can do now, is there?’
‘You could strangle Saman, for a start,’ said Sophie. ‘Look, he’s coming this way.’
‘No,’ said Gidaado quietly. ‘Strangling the winner is forbidden in the rules of the race. Besides, he’s bigger than me.’
‘I warn you,’ said Sophie, flexing her fingers. ‘If you won’t do it, I will.’
Sam Saman strolled up to them. He was wearing a pair of shiny new shoes and eating a banana.
‘ Salam alaykum ,’ said Saman.
‘ Alaykum asalam ,’ said Gidaado.
‘Selling the camel?’
‘Yes.’
‘Times are hard, are they?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll do you a favour,’ said Saman. ‘Give me the albino camel and I’ll give you the rest of this banana.’
Sophie opened her mouth to say something, but her attention was caught by a Land Rover zooming in through the gates of the animal market. What was going on? Usually vehicles were not allowed in amongst the animals.
The Land Rover circled a few times and then came and stopped right in front of them. The passenger door opened and a man in army uniform stepped out.
Then the back doors opened and two more people got out. One of them was a giant of a man dressed in black. The other was a red-haired girl carrying a camel-skin handbag. Sophie groaned inwardly as she recognized Marie.
‘ Bon soir ,’ said the uniformed man, holding out a large hand to Gidaado. ‘They told me I would find you here.’
‘ Alaykum asalam ,’ said Gidaado, shaking the hand and gawping at the medals on the man’s uniform. They were mounted neatly on three strips of leather and they gleamed in the dazzling midday sun.
‘Is this him?’ said the man in French.
Marie nodded.
‘And this is his translator?’
‘Yes,’ said Marie.
‘What is your name, translator-girl?’ said the man, holding out his hand to Sophie.
‘Sophie,’ she said, taking it.
‘I am General Alai Crêpe-Sombo,’ said the man. ‘You have already met my daughter.’
‘Yes,’ said Sophie.
‘And this is Pougini, my bodyguard,’ said the General.
Sophie glanced at the giant and noticed a mean-looking truncheon in his belt.
‘Sophie,’ said General Crêpe-Sombo, ‘tell your friend that I have been listening to his cassette all week. Marie here plays it so loudly in her room that everyone in the house is forced to listen to it.’
Sophie translated the General’s words into Fulfulde and Gidaado’s eyes widened.
‘Has he come to murder me?’ he said.
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Saman, admiring the giant’s truncheon. Saman did not understand French, but he was listening in on Sophie’s translations with great interest.
‘Usually,’ continued the General, ‘I am not a fan of my daughter’s music. She is fond of le rap , a sound which I detest more than the taunts of an enemy army on the far bank of a fast-flowing river.’
Sophie translated and Gidaado nodded sympathetically.
‘But you ,’ said the General, poking Gidaado in the chest, ‘ you I like.’
When Sophie translated, Gidaado puffed out his cheeks with relief.
‘I may not understand Fulfulde,’ said the General, ‘but I can tell a good griot when I hear one. And my daughter tells me that you are the best griot in Oudalan.’
Sophie translated. Gidaado grinned
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