Harmattan Read Online Free PDF Page A

and the like, but there was an understanding among the villagers that one did not enquire as to how he had done so.

    Above the hatch, which Monsieur Letouye opened faithfully every morning (except Fridays) at ten o’clock, a Coca-Cola sign had been nailed, upside down.
    Monsieur Letouye did not actually sell Coca-Cola – few of the villagers had ever actually tasted such a product – but he knew what the sign meant and, until I had learned to read, I too had considered it a very handsome thing.
    It was in the hope of watching television that the growing crowd had gathered.
    This was a treat that Monsieur Letouye permitted on special occasions. If, however, he was in a bad mood, or it was widely known that he had not done much business at his shop for some time, we knew not to expect so much as a glimpse of either Monsieur Letouye or his television set. Occasionally he would try to charge for the privilege, and there would be great arguments between the adults before the set would be turned on.
    Everyone in Wadata knew that Abdelkrim had returned home and everyone who saw him greeted him warmly (even Monsieur Letouye), so it was naturally presumed that this evening was a special occasion.
    My brother helped Monsieur Letouye carry the large black television from his house to the centre of his compound, where they placed it on a table in the hope that everyone could at least get a glimpse of the screen from time to time. Two of Monsieur Letouye’s neighbours followed them outside with a heavy car battery to which the cables of the television set were attached with metal clips.
    In all there must have been sixty or so of us present that evening, representing some ten different families. Some people had brought their own plastic chairs. Others sat on crates or logs, while we children mostly squatted on palm-leaf mats nearer to the set. Even Sushie and Richard stopped by Monsieur Letouye’s compound to introduce themselves to my famous brother. Miriam and I became quite giddy when Abdelkrim came and joined us on our mat, but when the Kung Fu movie started we settled down and watched in silence – even though the picture rolled and the sound crackled and hissed like a snake.
    The movie was followed by a weather report and news broadcast. The presenter – wearing thick, black glasses and a grey suit and tie, and seated in front of a swirling, flowery backdrop highlighting his ochre-coloured shirt – announced that there had been some unrest in the south-eastern town of Diffa. By now, though, most of us children were so tired and fidgety and the din of squabbling infants was so loud that little attention was paid to either the dandy or his story.
    It was time to go home. As we filtered out of Monsieur Letouye’s compound, each of us thanking him and wishing him God’s blessing, our national anthem boomed out majestically from the television’s speaker, while the images of President Bare Mainassara and the Nigerien flag flickered in the darkness behind us. We headed home, tired but happy, Adamou and his friends high kicking, whooping and karate-chopping their way across the village in the cool night air. I linked arms with my mother and my best friend Miriam while Abdelkrim carried Fatima, who was already asleep. A few metres from our compound, my father, who had been following behind, bid us goodnight and turned off in the direction of my school.
    ‘Where are you going, Salim?’ my mother called after him. ‘It is so late!’
    ‘I have business with the elders,’ he said, disappearing into the night.
    ‘Where do you think he goes, Mother?’ Abdelkrim said under his breath as we approached the house.
    My mother sucked her teeth and went inside.

3

    Hope Boyd
    Member No. 515820
    Ballygowrie
    Co. Down
    N. Ireland 
    BT22 1AW