Woman of the Ashes by Mia Couto

Author:Mia Couto
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

17

A LIGHTNING FLASH FROM THE SOIL

All generals know that protection from their own army is more important than defense against the enemy.

Early in the morning, I was told that Katini and Musisi would go and seek an audience at the garrison. Without waiting, I set off. Some days before, I myself had informed the Portuguese of my family’s intentions. Even so, it would be better if I went ahead on the day of their visit. After Binguane’s death, the atmosphere was tense, and it was important that the sergeant should be left in no doubt as to the urgency of what would be asked of him. It was with this in mind that I walked through the streets, which were still shrouded in a fog; I took this for a village mist at first, but then I saw that it was in fact a thick cloud of smoke. The smoke emanated from afar, from where Binguane had embraced death.

My brother Mwanatu had become even more vigilant while on sentry duty at the entrance to the garrison. Whereas before he had sported a false weapon, he now had a new piece of equipment: he wore a pair of white gloves. Come in quickly, sister; we’re on full alert, he whispered to me, with a flurry of his fingers.

Germano was leaning over a map spread right across the table. Without looking up, he asked: Do you know what’s happened?

The whole village knows.

And do you know who’s just been here? It was Binguane’s son, Xiperenyane.

Xiperenyane was here?

He came to ask me to intercede in order to save his granddaughter. During yesterday’s attack, the little girl was abducted by the Vátuas. And the story’s going around that she’s already been killed, devoured by Ngungunyane’s witch doctors.

The Portuguese was perturbed. It was clear from the hoarseness of his voice. He paused, staring at me with his blue eyes, and then addressed me in an almost aggressive fashion: Have you come because of the classes? Well, the classes are over.

Over?

You can go on visiting me, but don’t teach me anything. I came to this world’s end in order to forget that there are such things as languages. To forget that there are people, forget that I’ve got a name …

And he stretched his arms over the table as if to hug the map. Draped over it in this fashion, he repeated: What I want is to forget.

I took a few steps forward and murmured fearfully: Can I ask something?

What is it you want?

Can I touch your hair?

He smiled and inclined his head toward me. My hand ceased being mine and supported itself first on his shoulder before sinking into his thick mass of hair. The Portuguese must have misunderstood my request. I was impelled only by my curiosity to feel that hair of his, which was so different from ours. His reaction was to raise his arms and cup my breasts in his hands. While this was happening, the buttons of my blouse burst and rolled crazily across the floor.

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