Woman in the Dunes by Kobo Abe

Author:Kobo Abe [Abe, Kobo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-05-18T01:54:34.113000+00:00

"All right. But if I don't get somebody from the village to bring water…"

"Well, why don't you get them to?"

"I could… if we were just to start working…"

"Don't be funny! Where do those fellows get the right to strike such an absurd bargain? Just tell me that!

You can't, can you? They don't have the right, and you know it!"

The woman lowered her eyes and was silent. What a situation. The sky, visible above the door, had changed from blue to a glaring white, like the underside of a seashell. Granted that obligation is a man's passport among his fellow men, why did he have to get a permit from the villagers? Human life shouldn't be so many bits of paper scattered about. Life is a bound diary, and one first page is plenty for one book. There is no need to do one's duty for a page that is unrelated to the preceding ones. One can't get involved every time someone else is on the point of starvation. Damn it! He wanted water. But no matter how much he wanted water, he still did not have enough bodies to go around to all the funeral services of people who were of no consequence to him.

A second sand slide began.

The woman stood up and took down a broom from the wall.

"You can't work! You promised, didn't you?"

"No, no. It's for the mattresses…"

"The mattresses?"

"If you don't get some sleep pretty soon…"

"If I get sleepy, I'll take care of them myself."

He fel£ an earth-shaking shock and stood rooted to the ground. For a moment everything seemed misty with sand that fell from the ceiling. The consequences of having stopped the shoveling were at last apparent. The sand, having no way out, was bearing down. The joints of the beams and uprights groaned in agony. But the woman, staring fixedly at an inner lintel, did not appear particularly concerned. The pressure still seemed to be only around the base of the house.

"Damn them! Do they really intend going on like this forever?"

His racing heart! It was hopping about like a frightened rabbit, as if unable to stay in its own hole. It seemed ready to crawl in anywhere—his mouth, his ears, or even into his bowel. His spittle had become much more viscid. And the dryness in his throat was as bad. Perhaps it was because his thirst had not been adequately slaked by the cheap sake*. As soon as the alcohol was dissipated, it would flare up again, and the flames would reduce him to ashes.

"They must feel fine… doing such things. They don't have the brains of a mouse. Just what would they do if I died?"

The woman raised her face as if to say something but, suddenly thinking better of it, maintained her unbroken silence. She apparently did not think it worthwhile to answer at all.

All right. If there was to be only one inevitable ending anyway, why didn't he try whatever he could?

He gulped down another mouthful from the bottle of sake" and, bracing himself, hurried outside.

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