Xala

Xala by Ousmane Sembène

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Authors: Ousmane Sembène
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returned with a glass of water, which she gave to the boy. He drank.
    â€˜Sip it,’ admonished his mother affectionately.
    Mactar began to breathe more easily as his lungs filled with air. He gave a sigh of relief and wiped the unintended tears from his eyes.
    â€˜What were you going to say?’ asked Oumi N’Doye in.a motherly voice.
    â€˜Father should buy us a car. They have one at Adja Awa Astou’s and father’s third has one. While we...’
    â€˜His lordship has seen Rama with her Fiat, so he thinks that as the eldest he is entitled to a car as well,’ said Mariem scornfully, picking up a magazine.
    â€˜Well, I’m a man.’

    â€˜And so what? Women also drive. It’s mother who should have a car for her shopping.’
    â€˜Thank you, dear, for thinking of me. You’re right, Mactar. I hadn’t thought of it. All my money goes in taxis.’
    Oumi N‘Doye fell silent. The idea was a new one to her. She said to herself: ‘There is a car at Adja Awa Astou’s and also at the third’s. And what do I have? Nothing!’
    â€˜I was the first to mention the car,’ broke in Mactar.
    â€˜That’s true, dear. I am going to talk to your father about it. Then you too will be able to go to school in your own car, instead of with all the others. You can run errands for me. Go round to Adja Awa Astou. If your father is there tell him I must see him. It is very urgent.’
    â€˜You promise to lend me the car?’
    â€˜I promise.’
    Satisfied, Mactar ran out.

    He did not find their father either. Oumi N’Doye was beginning to worry. El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye had assured her he would be coming. Usually he kept his promises. He was beginning to neglect her. After the meal, which she took alone with the children, she went to her bedroom with her magazines, still hoping. She got herself ready, making herself attractive. She was counting on keeping the man for a good part of the night. She lay on the bed looking very desirable and listened for his arrival. She turned off the main light, leaving a night-light, which seemed more appropriate. Nothing. She returned to her reading. Now and again she thought she heard the sound of a car-engine. It grew as the car approached then, to her intense disappointment, died away again. According to her alarm-clock it was nearly 1.00 a.m. She could not sleep. She felt threatened.

    Late in the night El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye returned to his third’s house. All was quiet and peaceful in the villa. A shaft of light shone from under the door. El Hadji knocked.
    â€˜Who is it?’

    â€˜It’s me, El Hadji,’ he replied, recognizing the voice of Yay Bineta, the Badyen.
    She let him in.
    â€˜Have you passed the day in peace?’ he asked.
    â€˜In peace only,’ said the Badyen returning his greeting, and she added, ‘N’Gone can’t be asleep.’
    El Hadji realized she was waiting for him.
    â€˜Have you eaten?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜If you are still hungry, your share is there. Have you done something about your problem?’
    â€˜Yes, I have seen a marabout.’
    â€˜Alxam ndu lilay.’
    El Hadji went into the wedding chamber. Nothing had been changed. The bed was in its place, the tailor’s dummy dressed. As on the night before, N‘Gone was in her nightdress, ready. The night-light dimly lit the sculptural form of her slender body. The strong desire he felt for her faded away. As he had done the previous night, he tried desperately to excite himself mentally. Not a nerve in his body responded. He felt ill. He perspired. He, the stallion who usually flung himself on women, was like pulp. Regret and anger filled him. His body was taken over by bitterness. He felt the full extent of the seriousness of his predicament as a wounded male and was bewildered by it. He had dreamed of this moment as he lay in the arms of his other two wives, the moment when

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