Black Bazaar by Mabanckou Alain

Author:Mabanckou, Alain [Mabanckou, Alain]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Profile Books
Published: 2012-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

One time the Hybrid stayed in Paris for over a month even though his group didn’t have any concerts booked. It’s true he didn’t sleep at ours, but I noticed Original Colour losing her head during that period, she was always getting dressed up, spending more and more time away from home and coming back very late. My cousin this, my cousin that. I won’t be back early tonight, don’t wait up for me. Pick up the kid from the Cape Verdean childminder and feed her at seven o’clock on the dot …

That same month I thought I was going to explode when I found the Hybrid sitting comfortably in our only armchair. This armchair was my place, I was the one who had bought it, and I sat in it to watch my programmes about those couples who go to an island to resist the temptations of handsome men and beautiful women. The Hybrid was holding the remote and watching The Young and The Restless. My daughter was fast asleep, and he was shedding a tear in front of the telly because of his soap involving a love story and an inheritance, as well as poisonings every two minutes and trite dialogue. All he was wearing was a pair of shorts, he was gobbling up my garlic saucisson with some cassava and a hot pepper, and drinking my beers that I’d bought from the Arab on the corner. He was surrounded by empty bottles.

I asked him what the hell he was doing in the capital instead of being with his fellow musicians in their remote corner of northern France. He replied that the whole group was in Paris to record a CD, and that he and the others had decided to go back to the home country for good. In the meantime, he was making the most of it by looking after Henriette while Original Colour was at work. All in all, he was helping his cousin and I should be grateful to him.

At this rate he was as good as living with us. How can you stay round at other people’s from morning to midnight? According to Original Colour, the cousin was doing a good job of looking after the little one. I’ll admit that when he used to sing things to our little girl, she held out her arms to him and burst out laughing. She was getting so used to him that when I wanted to hold her and sing her the things from here that people sing to little French children – things like Marlborough Has Left for the War and There’s Some Tobacco in My Snuffbox – she would blub as if she’d been stung by a red ant, she wanted to stay in the Hybrid’s arms and she would only listen to the songs from back home. This pleased him no end, I tell you he was taunting me …

I had really had enough by the end. But I couldn’t say this out loud.

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