Salina by Laurent Gaudé

Author:Laurent Gaudé
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Europa Editions
Published: 2021-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

VI

THE ANGER SON

The first child is the fruit of rape and does nothing but wail. A little bundle of flesh that depends on her to live, wriggling, crying its lungs out until it is red in the face . . . They place it next to her, thinking she will give it her warmth, but she looks at it without moving. The infant puts all his life force into his crying. She seems not to hear him. Is it possible that she is remembering her own crying on the roads of her exile, when the horseman was carrying her? Is it possible that she feels at home, surrounded by his crying? Saro named him Mumuyé and the entire clan joyfully celebrated his birth. The lineage is assured. The bloodline will be perpetuated. She did not oppose anything, nor did she consent. When they placed the infant in her arms, she did not even look at him. She waited a bit, then placed him in a blanket at her side. When he needs to suckle, she takes him, unfastens her garment, places him at her breast, and looks away. She does not want to see him, does not want to grow tender, does not want to register any of this childhood. He is the son of the beating she has taken inside, the son of violence, and that is all. He is the hated blood of Saro and the image of her own submission. She feeds him because she knows that if she doesn’t, they will beat her, but she doesn’t care if he cries. She thinks of Kano, whom she sees only very rarely, when the entire clan comes together for a meal or a wake and then she looks at him, not saying a word, gazing at his beauty, her eyes full of desire, smiling sometimes so he will know that, in spite of everything, she is his and that nothing else exists in her. But often he lowers his eyes. Then she is filled with rage and her face hardens. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t he oppose his brother or mother? He heard the sound of thrusting on the wedding night—everyone heard—and he did nothing. Perhaps he wept or buried his head in the cushions, but that is even worse . . . In fact, little Mumuyé is also the son of Kano’s cowardice, and that is yet another reason to let the infant cry. Mumuyé’s cries go with her everywhere, all the time. And Saro strolls about, beside himself, scowling, furious at the child’s crying, furious at this affront. He orders Salina to make the infant stop. “Give him what he wants. Your milk. Your arms. Give him your time, your body,” he says, his face red with anger. “If this son cries, imagine that it is me crying. If he is hungry, it is I who is hungry. You must dread what I will do if I am not satisfied. Will you do it grudgingly? You want to be slow, make him wait? So be it.

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