No New Land by M.G. Vassanji

Author:M.G. Vassanji [Vassanji, M.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-55199-707-0
Publisher: McClelland & Stewart
Published: 1997-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Having finished his coffee, and calmed himself somewhat, Nanji went to the Lalanis’.

The family had just sat down to watch the news. A place was made for him, as a matter of course, but he remained standing and said, “Have you heard – about Esmail?” His manner suggested something ghastly had happened, to himself, so that he was made to sit down and receive Zera’s ministrations. He told them what had happened, and Zera telephoned Esmail’s apartment. Esmail’s sister, with whom he lived, knew of the incident, in fact people had already begun to arrive to show sympathy. Zera could hear them in the background. Hanif and Fatima were told to stay home, and the three adults walked up two flights of stairs to join the sympathizers.

There were people from all the neighbourhood buildings, some thirty in number. How had they all heard in such a short time? The sofa and chairs had been moved to the walls and were all occupied. More people sat on the floor. They looked like mourners gathered in the first hours after news of death – with uneasy sighs and subdued murmurs and sympathetic glances towards the next of kin, the sister sitting in a prominent place, distraught and tearful, flanked by solicitous relations.

They seemed to be waiting, for something, for someone, to break the tension. Waiting and thinking: What now? Was this a sign of things to come … danger to self and property, to wife and kids. Have we come to the right place after all. In all these years in Africa not to have seen anything so wanton, so arbitrary, so public. If they had wanted money, yes. Anything political, yes, riots, yes, they were understandable. But this, public humiliation, by kids. And where had they learned this hatred? Not from their parents? not from their elders? – that was hard to imagine. How can you send the children to school, to play, to the supermarket, how can you let the girls out?

From the corridor came Jamal’s voice, nothing tentative about it, and welcome as the tinkle of ice on a hot day. He entered, in a black suit and red tie, tall and handsome, just in from a late rendezvous, and instantly anticipatory eyes full of unanswered questions turned to him. Jamal sensed the unspoken honour and braced himself. Slowly and deliberately he walked up to Esmail’s sister and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. Your brother will go down in history. His suffering will not have been in vain. He is the first and last. From now on we will fight back!” His voice had risen in pitch. Jamal had addressed many student rallies in Dar, as Nanji recalled.

“Aré, man, we are not Sikhs, you know.” This from the clown who is always present at such meetings.

“The blacks kicked us out, now the whites will do the same.… Where do we go from here?”

“Looks like Pakistan for us.”

“There are worse goons there. Did you hear of the two murders – ”

A woman cut in impatiently.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.