Free Harmattan by Gavin Weston Page A

out a loud, exasperated ‘Aiee!’
    ‘Is there something you wish to say?’ my father asked Abdelkrim.
    ‘Yes, Father,’ my brother said, setting the model on the ground and standing up.
    ‘There are lots of things I’d like to say.’
    My father snorted, noisily, then turned his face away to spit.
    Abdelkrim dusted his hands off and stretched, his movements an attempt, perhaps, to hide his agitation. ‘First of all,’ he continued, ‘Adamou is eager to do his military service. Perhaps he will like the life and stay on – like me. He could do worse. The army educated me – in more than just the ways of the Koran.’
    My father said nothing, but his glare caused me to shudder.
    ‘Secondly, you cannot have it both ways…’
    ‘What?’ my father snapped.
    ‘You are not paying for Haoua’s schooling. Vision Corps – that British NGO – pays. Isn’t that the way it works?’
    ‘You ought to mind your own business, boy!’ my father said.
    Abdelkrim strode towards my father and looked down into his face. ‘Oh?’ he said.
    ‘I am not a boy, and this is my business. I don’t like your bullying, your lies and your deceit. I’ve witnessed plenty of that. Nobody likes it.’
    By now my father was seething, and for the first time in my life I feared that something awful might happen between these two grown men, both of whom I loved dearly.‘Be mindful of what you say, soldier !’ Father said, his voice shaking and tinged with sarcasm.
    ‘I am mindful, Father,’ Abdelkrim replied. ‘I’ve thought about these matters very carefully over the last two days. I’ve watched what goes on here. You demand respect, but what respect do you show anyone other than your gambling friends?’
    Father threw down the hoe that he had been holding and clenched his fists.
    Abdelkrim looked down at the implement and then, glaring back at our father, he raised his eyebrows and tipped his hand forward, as if to say ‘Well? What?’
    My father’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
    Abdelkrim nodded and gave a little smile. ‘You talk about putting food in your family’s bellies, yet you squander my money!’
    ‘Mind your business!’
    ‘You boast about taking another wife, yet you can’t support the one you have!’‘How dare you…’
    ‘You ought to thank Haoua, Father. In truth she puts food in your belly, but all you can do is scold her!’
    ‘She is forbidden to go near the river!’
    ‘She has apologised.’
    ‘I might have lost her!’
    ‘At least that would be one less mouth for you to have to feed!’
    In a flash, the shouting was over. With a loud smack, my father brought his hand hard against Abdelkrim’s face. ‘I want you out of here!’ he hissed.
    I stood, trembling, before them. My mother and Adamou were standing in the doorway of our house, looking shocked.
    Abdelkrim put his hand to his cheek and smiled again.
    I had never before seen anger on a face that smiled.
    ‘Don’t worry, Father ,’ he said, his eyes shining. ‘I’m going.’ He turned away and walked out of the compound, pausing only to spit.
    My father turned towards me and pointed. ‘You!’ he said. ‘Go and find your sister!’

9
    It was not difficult to find Fatima. She was playing with her friend Amina near Monsieur Letouye’s shop. I beckoned to her to come quickly, then took her by the hand before she had time to protest.
    ‘Where are we going?’ she said.
    ‘I have to take you home,’ I answered. ‘But first we must call on Miriam.’
    We walked out briskly to the east side of the village until we came to the Kantaos’ compound, a large enclosure with four small dwellings housing Miriam’s large extended family. There was no sign of the halved fish which I had presented to Monsieur Kantao the previous evening. Three or four goats were tethered in one corner of the compound, waiting to be milked. Everything seemed to have returned to tranquil normality.
    I had always liked visiting Miriam’s house and family.