Xala (3 page)

‘Don't talk like that!' her mother interrupted her. ‘It's true N'Gone is your age. But she's only a victim....'

The gong gave its oriental sound.

‘It's your father.'

El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye came into the sitting-room with a sprightly step.

‘Greetings!' he said to the two children. ‘Are you ready?' he asked his wife.

‘Yes.'

‘And you, Rama?'

‘I'm not going, father.'

‘Why not?'

‘Father, can you give me some money for school?' asked Mactar, approaching his father. El Hadji took out a bundle of notes and counting five gave them to his son.

Rama stood where she was. She caught her mother's eye and said:

‘I'm against this marriage, father. A polygamist is never frank.'

El Hadji's slap struck her on her right cheek. She stumbled and fell. He moved towards Rama to repeat the blow. Quickly Mactar stepped between them.

‘You can be a revolutionary at the university or in the street but not in my house. Never!'

‘This is not your house. Nothing here belongs to you,' retorted Rama. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth.

‘Come, El Hadji. Let us go,' said the girl's mother, pulling her husband towards the door.

‘You should have brought that child up properly,' El Hadji shouted at his wife.

‘You are right. Come, they are waiting. It's your wedding day.'

When their parents had left, Mactar ventured:

‘Father is becoming more and more reactionary.'

Rama got up and went to her room.

As the Mercedes drove slowly away the man and his first wife sat silent, looking in opposite directions, anxious.

 

 

The second wife's villa was identical with the first's except for the hedge. Trees provided shade at the front. The front door had an enamel plaque with the words ‘Villa Oumi N'Doye' in black lettering.

Modu the chauffeur drew up at the entrance and opened the door of his employer's car. El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye climbed out and stood for a moment on the pavement. Then he put his head through the window and said to Adja Awa Astou:

‘Come on, get out!'

Adja Awa Astou glanced at her husband and shook her head. Her eyes were lifeless, they had a deep inscrutability that seemed like a total absence of reaction. But there was the strength of controlled inertia burning in them.

El Hadji could not sustain her look. He turned away. Then, as if he were addressing someone else, he pleaded with her:

‘Adja, either you get out or you return home. What will Oumi N'Doye think?'

Adja Awa Astou had not lowered her eyes. Etiquette? She struggled to keep her temper. Deep inside her like an angry sea, her resentment welled up. But since she was sincerely religious she controlled herself and tamed her fury, imploring Yalla to help her. Restraining the urge to speak out, she said:

‘El Hadji, I beg you to forgive me. You seem to forget that I am your
Awa
²
. I will not set foot in that house. I'll wait here.'

El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye knew his first wife's pride very well. As soon as she finished speaking her bearing became rigid again and she turned her face away from him. Her husband crossed the garden and pushed open the front door of the villa. He entered the sitting-room, full of expensive French furniture and artificial flowers. As soon as he appeared the youngest daughter, Mariem, flung her arms
joyfully round his neck. She was fifteen years old, big for her age, and wore a mini-skirt.

‘Shouldn't you be at school?' asked her father.

‘No, I've got permission to stay away today. I'm coming to the wedding with some of my friends from school. Father, can you give me some money?

‘All right. Where's your mother?'

Mischievously Mariem indicated where she was with her thumb. Her father gave her three bank-notes as he crossed the room.

Oumi N'Doye saw El Hadji in her mirror. She was securing her black wig with the aid of pins.

‘I'll be with you in a minute,' she said in French.

‘Who's with you in the Mercedes?'

‘Adja Awa. She's waiting in the car.'

‘Why doesn't she come in?' asked Oumi N‘Doye immediately, turning towards the man. ‘Mariem! Mariem!' she called.

Mariem arrived and stood with her hand on the door-knob.

‘Mother?'

‘Tell Adja Awa to come inside. She's in the car. Tell her I'm having my shower.'

Mariem went out.

‘Is she angry?'

‘Who?' asked El Hadji, sitting on the bed.

‘Adja Awa Astou.'

‘Not that I know of,' he replied, leafing through a woman's magazine.

‘She persuaded you to marry this third wife purely out of jealousy. Just because I'm younger than she is, the old cow.'

Had her shaft gone home? El Hadji did not react. She had spoken with heavy sarcasm, gritting her teeth. There was still no reply so she went on:

‘She's playing games now, your old woman. She's waiting outside just to see how I will take it, isn't she? Your old piece of dried fish-skin thinks I'm her rival. I bet you she'll gang up with that N'Gone to annoy me. But we'll see about that.'

‘Listen, Oumi, I don't want any quarrelling, here or at the wedding. If you don't want to come that's your affair. But please stop talking like that.'

‘What was I saying then? Now you're threatening me. If you don't want me at the wedding say so. That's what she said, didn't she? Your third, N'Gone, is no different from us.'

She stood facing the man, menace in her voice.

‘Believe me, I'm not going to your third's to pick a fight. You needn't worry.'

‘Get me something to drink. I'm very thirsty,' said El Hadji to change the subject.

‘There is no mineral water in the house.' (El Hadji only drank mineral water.) ‘Will you have tap water?' asked Oumi N'Doye in a mocking tone of voice and with an air of defiance that wrinkled the corners of her mouth.

El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye left the room. Outside he called his chauffeur Modu.

‘Sir?'

‘Bring me some mineral water.'

Beside the Mercedes Mariem was trying her best to cajole Adja Awa Astou from the car into the house.

‘Mariem, tell your mother I'd rather wait here.'

‘Mother Adja, you know how long my mother takes to get ready. She's having a shower,' said the child.

Defeated by Adja Awa Astou's smile Mariem returned in dejection to the house, followed by Modu carrying the portable ice-hamper.

 

 

As they came out of the front door Oumi N'Doye whispered to El Hadji:

‘Which of us is to sit in the back with you?'

Before El Hadji could reply she continued: ‘All three of us then. After all it isn't her
moomé
.'
³

Settling herself in the Mercedes Oumi N'Doye asked after the health of her co-wife's children. The conversation between the two women was distant and full of courtesy. Each complimented the other on her clothes.

‘So you don't want to come into my house?'

‘You mustn't misunderstand me. I was comfortable in the car. I
don't get out because I still have those attacks of dizziness,' said Adja Awa Astou by way of apology.

El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye, seated in the back between his two wives, let his mind wander, only half listening to what they were saying.

They could hear the band – playing modern music – from some way off. A crowd of youngsters were dancing among themselves on the pavement. Stewards stood guard on the entrance, examining the guests' invitations before letting them in. Couples were dancing on the cement floor of the courtyard. Under the verandah a
kora
-player with two women accompanists took advantage of breaks in the band's playing to show what he could do, singing at the top of his voice.

The third wife's villa, which was of recent construction, stood outside the more heavily populated residential area in a new suburb intended for people of means.

The Mercedes pulled up.

Walking two paces ahead of his wives El Hadji crossed the courtyard amid the acclamations of the guests and the frenzied playing of the band, which completely drowned the efforts of the kora-player.

Yay Bineta reached the wives before the bride and in her role of mistress of the house she welcomed them and escorted them to a room where all the most distinguished women guests were congregated. Urbane as ever the Badyen abounded in civilities towards the co-wives.

‘You will give a good example to the young ones, won't you? Good co-wives should be united.'

‘Don't worry, we are used to it. We are one family. The same blood flows in our children's veins,' parried Oumi N‘Doye, not giving Adja Awa Astou a chance to say anything. ‘I take Adja our senior as my example. I thank Yalla for putting me to the test so that in my turn I too can show that I am not jealous or selfish.'

‘Your presence here today speaks in your favour. All N'Dakaru knows you both. Your reputations are well established.'

The co-wives and Yay Bineta knew they were only playing to the gallery. They resorted to euphemism in preparation for the real hostilities which would come later. The Badyen left them and went to look for El Hadji in the bridal chamber. The room was decorated completely in white. A mattress laid on the floor in a corner, an upside-down mortar and a woodcutter's axe-handle were for the moment the only furnishings.

‘It is time for you to change, El Hadji,' the Badyen told the man.

‘Change? What for?'

‘You must put on a caftan without trousers and sit there on the mortar, with the axe-handle held between your feet, until your wife's arrival is announced.'

‘Yay Bineta, you don't really believe in all that! I have two wives already and I did not make a fool of myself with this hocus-pocus on their account. And I am not going to start today!'

‘You're not a European, although I can't help wondering. Your two wives are somehow too nice today; it troubles me. My little N'Gone is still innocent. She isn't old enough to cope with rivalry. Go and take your trousers off and sit down! I'll come back and tell you when your wife arrives.'

Being ordered about by a woman was not in the least to El Hadji's liking and he was sufficiently Westernized not to have any faith in all this superstition.

‘No!' he replied curtly and walked out, leaving the Badyen standing by herself.

Adja Awa Astou and Oumi N‘Doye had realized what the Badyen's game was when she had led their husband away. The same thought had occurred to both of them. Oumi N'Doye's courage abandoned her and she spoke what was on her mind:

‘What are we doing here in this house?'

Because of the noise Adja Awa Astou leaned over towards her. ‘What did you say?'

Oumi N'Doye looked around to make sure that no one was listening or watching them.

‘What are we doing here, you and I?'

‘We are waiting for our
weje
⁴
to arrive,' replied Adja, her eyes fixed on the base of the second wife's neck.

‘Are you, the
awa,
going to do nothing? You must be in favour of this third marriage then. You gave El Hadji your blessing, didn't you?'

Oumi N'Doye stuck out her chin. The light from the doorway lit up her face animated by jealousy. She pursed her lips.

‘You want us to leave?' asked Adja confidentially.

‘Yes, let's get away from here,' replied Oumi N'Doye, making to rise to her feet.

Adja Awa Astou held her by the knee, as if to rivet her to her seat. Oumi N'Doye followed her eyes. Standing in the doorway opposite Yay Bineta was watching them. Intuition told the Badyen that the co-wives were discussing her goddaughter. She moved off.

After a moment Adja Awa Astou went on:

‘It is Yay Bineta who is your rival. I have never entered the fray. I am incapable of fighting or rivalry. You know that yourself. When you were a young bride you never knew I existed. I have been the
awa
for nearly twenty years now, and how many years have you been his wife, my second?'

‘Seventeen years, I think.'

‘Do you know how many times we have met?'

‘To tell the truth I don't,' admitted Oumi N'Doye.

‘Seven times! During the fifteen or so years you have been the second wife that man, the same man, has left me every three days to spend three nights with you, going from your bedroom to mine. Have you ever thought about it?'

‘No,' said Oumi N'Doye.

‘And you have never been to see me!'

‘Yet you have come to see me several times. I really don't know why I have never visited you.'

‘Because you regarded me as your rival.'

The Badyen interrupted them. ‘You have eaten nothing! Come on, help yourselves. You must act as if you were at home.' She placed a tray of drinks beside them.

Adja Awa Astou drank. Before raising the glass to her mouth Oumi N'Doye dipped her little finger into the liquid and scattered a few drops on the floor. Scandalized, Yay Bineta hurried off.

‘The bride! The bride!'

The rest of the sentence was drowned in the general uproar that followed. A fanfare of car horns reverberated through the air. A thick-set woman with a shoe in her hand rushed towards the door. She was knocked over and fell to the floor. Her tight-fitting dress split, a long, horizontal tear which exposed her behind. She was helped back to her feet by a couple of women and roundly abused the male guests for their lack of manners and consideration for women.

Yay Bineta, the Badyen, pushed the crowd aside. In keeping with
their usual exhibitionism the President of the ‘Businessmen's Group' led El Hadji forward to meet his bride.