From Sleep Unbound by Andrée Chedid

Author:Andrée Chedid [Chedid, Andrée]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Literary Collections, Women Authors, African
ISBN: 9780804040600
Google: QcbzAAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Ohio University Press
Published: 1983-09-30T05:30:49+00:00

6

The first month went by slowly. During the day I watched Abou Sliman carry his feather duster limply, like an unwanted object attached to his wrist. Around Abou Sliman there was a tissue woven of habits inside of which he moved with an absent air and a rough and tragic expression. In his face was incarnated all the sadness in the world. His eyes did not seem to belong to him. I did not talk to him any more. I hardly dared to approach him. Often, when I heard his steps, I would go into the next room. I was certain he was angry at me because of the scene Boutros had made and the reprimands, which were my fault.

Om el Kher came every other day with her daughter Zeinab, carrying a basket of fruits and vegetables. She greeted me deferentially and always wished me a blessed day. Om el Kher rapidly enumerated the produce she had brought, blessed me once again and disappeared immediately, followed by Zeinab, who never opened her mouth. Them also; I had lost them too. And Bahia? Bahia who no longer sang under my windows.

All this made it impossible for me to visit the village. Nonetheless, I wanted to do it. And I wanted to meet the blind man Boutros had mentioned. One morning, tired of ambling about between my four walls, I decided to go for a walk in the countryside. I took the path that led away from the village, the one which ran straight on toward the horizon.

The sky was low, like a ceiling weighed down by the opaque sun. I hurried along, feeling lonelier than ever because of the hatred that I imagined was buried in Abou Sliman’s heart and in the hearts of Om el Kher and Bahia. I could not forget the humiliations they had endured. I hurried to get away from the village. The path divided the land in two. It was lined with skimpy trees but they provided at least a semblance of shade. The sun burned down upon my head. I went forward, looking straight ahead. Then a voice called:

“Sit! Ya, Sit!”

I turned around and recognized Om el Kher, massive and dark, holding open her arms and beckoning me to come closer. I hesitated a second, then I began to run toward her without asking myself what she wanted. When I was near her, she dropped her arms with an embarrassed air and said:

“Come to the village! I want you to taste my bread!”

Without waiting for an answer, she walked on, leading the way. I felt it had taken all the courage she possessed to call out to me. Now she was walking along without looking at me, seemingly preoccupied with the path. But she soon let out a torrent of words: “I don’t want to boast, but my bread is the best bread in the village! ‘Om el Kher’s bread!’” She turned around and laughed, a short nervous laugh: “‘Om el Kher’s bread,’” she went on, “that’s what everyone calls it.

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