From Africa: New Francophone Stories

A Woman and a Half

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 [3], (3) Lines: 19 to 4 ——— 6.0pt PgV ——— Normal Page PgEnds: TEX [3], (3) abdourahman a. waberi A Woman and a Half Our women are beautiful; we must show them. Does one veil roses? Kateb Yacine Marwo, young and weary of life in the shantytown, is running away from a large remnant of humanity living with sewage and rustic boredom . Marwo flees from a father who humiliates her by wanting to marry her off to a toothless old man. She flees from the hatefulness of this old goat. She runs from the assaults of Chireh, her older brother, henchman of the political police, conquistador of raw violence, who takes pleasure in the marcescent bodies of victims and knows the art of torture. Marwo is running from the complicity of her father with his serene senility, sure of his rights, and from her brother, ruler and apish satyr. She escapes from the indifference of the shantytown, from the mothers who call upon her to bow down in the face of patriarchal will. She flees from a destiny as bitter as wormwood. The author notes that the title, “Une femme et demie,” refers to a Somalian proverb: “When one wants to denote a man’s worthiness, courage, generosity, etc., one says he is a man and a half. And I wanted to turn this expression around and make a feminist equivalent.” 3 waberi 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 [4], (4) Lines: 47 ——— -3.0pt ——— Normal P PgEnds: T [4], (4) She arose before daybreak, well before the muezzin had blown his mezzo saxophone and while the light was still germinating in the workings of the night. This dawn is full of hope. Where to go? She fidgets with impatience. “I’m going to go to the old askari,”1 she says to herself while getting ready for this nocturnal encounter. I leave the broken shantytown as it splits apart. I leave the dumping ground of life’s scraps, of shadowy silhouettes, the mob of killers coughing over bone-skinny prostitutes, the tribe of dozing people who litter garbage-can alleys. I leave the cool peace of the night staggering away as the sun advances . I leave the night with its massive dark roots as daylight punches through it. To whom will I go? To seek refuge with Haybé, the old askari, my uncle living in the bush, always searching for the full meaning of words. I will look for a new life, as one aborted from life, and separate the waters of my freedom. Haybé will take me under his wing, cherish and bless me like a newborn . Haybé, a silent eagle, who symbolizes the rock-hard meaning of life, along with the beauty of a rediscovered faith, Haybé, a sorcerer with lively speech. Marwo is a tall woman, with firm, angular hips and swelling bosom; she is an excellent walker, a marathoner from before Olympia. She crossed the desert, then the shriveled oasis, then the savannah with its teeming anthills. She traveled some of the way with smugglers, camel drivers who have been making these trips for centuries, Sindbads of the sand with winged soles, travelers who wear out even the earth, the mirages, and the stars. Horizon seekers. Straight-backed silhouettes like an I, with their proud, loose-jointed camels foaming at the mouth. And the hodgepodge of merchandise: rolls of cloth, bars of salt, sticks of incense, packages of food, tobacco, boxes of ammunition. . . . 1. Askari: soldier of the colonial armies in East Africa. 4 A Woman and a Half 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 [5], (5) Lines: 64 to 8 ——— 11.0pt PgV ——— Normal Page PgEnds: TEX [5], (5) They stopped to eat under a tree, an acacia, a tree for the poor. They swallowed some steamed rice and a handful of dates. One incessant talker was a chain smoker and annoyed Marwo with his stock of questions : “Town flower, where are you going like that?” She responded...