Wilted Pages by Ai Jiang

Author:Ai Jiang
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shortwave Media

3. Dossier

What did we know about Danladi? He was not exceptionally talented. He was never top of his class, but he was always somewhere in the top half. He was not a popular figure either. He did not have the sort of build or handsomeness that would have elevated his social status, especially among the girls. And to make matters worse, he had tribal marks. We were in a fast-changing world; no one wanted tribal marks or desired to be closely associated with someone who had them.

Danladi’s parents were not rich, and neither were they poor. His father, like many, had farmlands where he grew cocoyam, millet, and onions. His mother sold petty goods in Tudun Makari’s main market. There wasn’t anything worthy of note about Danladi or his family except that Danladi loved the library and slept a lot during classes. Being infatuated with the library was a normal thing. But why someone would suddenly go crazy and start to vomit books was the part we did not understand.

The second victim of the Library Virus was Ashiru. Unlike Danladi, Ashiru was well-known in Dangana Memorial. He was handsome, and every girl wanted to be close to him. The boys secretly despised him for this. We loved Ashiru for the way he smiled, exposing gleaming white teeth that were well-queued like maize seeds on a full cob. It was not just his looks; we loved him for his exploits on the football pitch. Anytime we crowded Dangana Memorial’s little football pitch, it was to watch Ashiru play. Any other reason was secondary. Given the extent of his talent and influence, he was made the captain of our school’s football team the previous year.

Ashiru’s father was a farmer, and his mother was a dressmaker. Another ordinary family. And like Danladi, Ashiru was in the library on the day Danladi’s sickness started. Ashiru’s presence in the library was odd. Mind you, we knew Ashiru very well. He was not someone who cared much about stellar academic performance. If we were awoken from sleep and ordered to make an impromptu list of those we would expect to find in the library, Ashiru would certainly be the last person to come to mind. So, no one knew why Ashiru was in the library on that fateful day.

We did not know much about Zubaida, the third person to come down with the virus. We knew that she always wore hijabs that were so long their edges swept Dangana Memorial’s untidy grounds. Zubaida’s hands were always hidden in gloves. No one could say for sure that they had ever seen Zubaida’s hands. This prompted the rumour that she had a strange skin disease she was always trying to conceal. But it was just a rumour started by some girl who must have been suffering from boredom.

Zubaida wasn’t an interesting individual per se. She was quiet and never asked questions in class. She always had worry and confusion written all over her face as if she was

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