Harmattan by Gavin Weston Read Free Book Online Page A

his teeth. ‘ Walayi! Not a wasted journey: see what a fine evening it is. God is good!’ He lifted something shiny from the floor of his pirogue and threw it onto the shore. It landed in the mud, with a splash, a few metres from my feet.
    I could see now that the object was a medium-sized Capitaine, freshly caught.
    Its head poked skywards from the stinking mud which thwarted its dying efforts to protest.‘It’s your supper, sisters,’ the fisherman called. ‘Take it home to your mother and have her cook it up with some peri-peri.’
    I waded through the mud and, with a loud, sucking noise, extracted the fish by its tail, holding it up to let the fisherman know that I had retrieved his gift. The creature gave a final, weak wriggle as life left it. ‘Thank you, Father!’ I shouted.
    ‘That is very kind of you.’ I stooped down to brush a small area of the water’s surface clear of its bubbly scum, and rinsed the Capitaine off.
    ‘Thank you, again!’ we called. As we left the river bank we could hear the younger man complaining to the older man. Like the trees, the giraffes, the giant crocodiles, the water itself, Egerou n-igereou’s fish stocks were disappearing dangerously fast and the younger fisherman was evidently not so happy to share its bounty.
    By the time we reached the great bend where we would turn off towards Wadata, an angry, orange sun was just beginning to kiss the river’s surface.
    The fish was slimy and had also begun to feel a little heavy in my hand. ‘Will you carry this fellow for a while, please, Miriam?’ I asked my friend.
    But Miriam was still sulking. ‘I’m not touching that!’ she said. ‘It stinks.’
    ‘But you’ll want your share, no doubt!’ I said, angrily.
    She continued walking and did not answer.
    I untied my headpiece and used it to wrap the Capitaine up in a bundle. This I then tied onto my waist, alongside my water gourd. ‘Now my favourite pagne will stink too!’ I called after Miriam, through the fading light.
    We knew the route home from the bend in the river very well – even in the darkness which had enveloped everything rapidly – and continued on without trepidation, our sandals slapping a steady rhythm. I was more concerned about my father than any mythical monsters. We were tired and hungry and, each time we stopped to rest for a moment or two, we soon began to feel cold. The fishy ooze on my thigh did not help my spirits. Above us, in an immense, blue-black sky, more vast even than the desert, the stars flashed as usual, like a thousand jewels. We padded over the cool, firm sand, until at last we caught sight of Wadata’s own twinkling array of wood fires and kerosene lamps in the distance.
    Miriam’s house was situated on the outskirts of our village and so we came to it first.
    Monsieur Kantao was sitting outside in his compound, spitting and chewing on kola nuts and waiting for his daughter. When he saw us at the entrance, he said nothing.
    Instead, he stood up, crossed the compound and took Miriam by the shoulders, staring at her all the while, as if to make sure that she really had returned home intact.
    Then he turned to me and simply pointed in the direction of my house.
    I knew that his intention was for me to leave immediately; Monsieur Kantao was a gentle man but he was clearly angry. I made to go, but then remembered our Capitaine .
    Quickly, I unwrapped the bundle at my side, and held the fish up, proudly, for him to see by the light of his lamp. ‘Half of this is for your household, Monsieur,’ I said. Without a word, he crossed the compound and disappeared behind the latrine, where a few scraps of kindling were stored. There was a brief rattling of metal implements, then Monsieur Kantao re-emerged, holding a machete in his right hand. As he walked back towards us, I was seized more by curiosity than fear.
    ‘Father?’ Miriam said, concern in her voice.
    Monsieur Kantao took the Capitaine from me and slapped it onto the rickety