when she had made the pilgrimage to Mecca. She was completely absorbed in her new religion. Now that she was an adja, she wanted to keep her heart pure, free of any hatred or meanness towards others. By an act of will she had overcome all her feelings of resentment towards the second wife. Her ambition was to be a wife according to the teachings of Islam by observing the five daily prayers and showing her husband complete obedience. Her religion and the education of her children
became the mainstays of her life. The few friends she still kept and her husbandâs friends all spoke of her as an exemplary wife.
When she had given the children their supper she took her beads and prayed fervently. She thought of her parents. She longed to see her father again. He was still alive and living on the island of Gorée. After her conversion to the Muslim faith she had gradually stopped seeing her family. Then when her mother died she had broken with them completely.
Her father, Papa John as the islanders called him, was an intransigent Christian, born into the third generation of African Catholicism. He attended Mass regularly with all his household and enjoyed a reputation for piety which had given him a certain ascendency over his colleagues. During the colonial period he had been a member of the municipal council for a number of years. When he discovered that his daughter was being courted by a Muslim from the mainland, he had decided to have it out with her. He had asked her to accompany him on his daily walk and together they had climbed the steep path up to the fort. Beneath them the angry, foam-covered sea battered the sides of the cliff.
âRenée,â he said.
âFather?â
âIs this Muslim going to marry you?â
Renée lowered her eyes. Papa John could see he would get no reply. He knew a lot about this Muslim and his trade-union activities. He had heard about his speeches at political meetings criticizing French colonialism and its allies the assimilés. He could not visualize this man as his son-in-law and suffered in anticipation at the thought that he might one day be associated with his family.
âWill you become a Muslim?â
This time his voice had hammered out the question firmly.
Renée was flirting with the teacher, who was something of a hero with the young generation; nothing more. She had certainly given no thought to the conflict of religions.
âDo you love him?â ,
Papa John had watched his daughter out of the corner of his eye as he waited for a reply. Deep down he had hoped it would be ânoâ.
âRenée, answer me!â
Ramaâs arrival broke the thread of her memories.
âI thought you were asleep,â said Rama, sitting on a chair.
âHave you eaten?â asked her mother.
âYes. Were there a lot of people at fatherâs wedding?â
âWith all that he spent on it! You know what the people of this town are like!â
âAnd Oumi NâDoye?â
âI left her there.â
âI suppose she was unpleasant.â
âNo. We were together.â
Rama was sensitive to her motherâs least suffering. The atmosphere did not encourage conversation. The light from the wall-lamp and the white scarf wound round her head made her motherâs face look thin. Tiny bright dots shone in her eyes. Rama thought she could see tears on the edge of her lashes.
âIâm going to work for a bit before I go to bed,â announced Rama, getting to her feet.
âWhat have you got to do?â
âI have a Wolof translation to finish. Pass the night in peace, mother.â
âAnd you too.â
The door closed, leaving Adja Awa Astou alone again. As others isolate themselves with drugs she obtained her own daily dose from her religion.
Rock-ânâ-roll alternated with the Pachanga. The dancers â only young people â did not bother to leave the dance-floor. The band put
became the mainstays of her life. The few friends she still kept and her husbandâs friends all spoke of her as an exemplary wife.
When she had given the children their supper she took her beads and prayed fervently. She thought of her parents. She longed to see her father again. He was still alive and living on the island of Gorée. After her conversion to the Muslim faith she had gradually stopped seeing her family. Then when her mother died she had broken with them completely.
Her father, Papa John as the islanders called him, was an intransigent Christian, born into the third generation of African Catholicism. He attended Mass regularly with all his household and enjoyed a reputation for piety which had given him a certain ascendency over his colleagues. During the colonial period he had been a member of the municipal council for a number of years. When he discovered that his daughter was being courted by a Muslim from the mainland, he had decided to have it out with her. He had asked her to accompany him on his daily walk and together they had climbed the steep path up to the fort. Beneath them the angry, foam-covered sea battered the sides of the cliff.
âRenée,â he said.
âFather?â
âIs this Muslim going to marry you?â
Renée lowered her eyes. Papa John could see he would get no reply. He knew a lot about this Muslim and his trade-union activities. He had heard about his speeches at political meetings criticizing French colonialism and its allies the assimilés. He could not visualize this man as his son-in-law and suffered in anticipation at the thought that he might one day be associated with his family.
âWill you become a Muslim?â
This time his voice had hammered out the question firmly.
Renée was flirting with the teacher, who was something of a hero with the young generation; nothing more. She had certainly given no thought to the conflict of religions.
âDo you love him?â ,
Papa John had watched his daughter out of the corner of his eye as he waited for a reply. Deep down he had hoped it would be ânoâ.
âRenée, answer me!â
Ramaâs arrival broke the thread of her memories.
âI thought you were asleep,â said Rama, sitting on a chair.
âHave you eaten?â asked her mother.
âYes. Were there a lot of people at fatherâs wedding?â
âWith all that he spent on it! You know what the people of this town are like!â
âAnd Oumi NâDoye?â
âI left her there.â
âI suppose she was unpleasant.â
âNo. We were together.â
Rama was sensitive to her motherâs least suffering. The atmosphere did not encourage conversation. The light from the wall-lamp and the white scarf wound round her head made her motherâs face look thin. Tiny bright dots shone in her eyes. Rama thought she could see tears on the edge of her lashes.
âIâm going to work for a bit before I go to bed,â announced Rama, getting to her feet.
âWhat have you got to do?â
âI have a Wolof translation to finish. Pass the night in peace, mother.â
âAnd you too.â
The door closed, leaving Adja Awa Astou alone again. As others isolate themselves with drugs she obtained her own daily dose from her religion.
Rock-ânâ-roll alternated with the Pachanga. The dancers â only young people â did not bother to leave the dance-floor. The band put