Strength to Say No by Mouhssine Rekha; Ennaimi Kalindi Read Free Book Online Page A

have trouble feeding! Is that the kind of future you want for your children?’
    I went off in the direction of my uncle’s house, taking the maze of paths among the dried-mud houses to cover my tracks. I pushed the little metal door, praying that it wouldn’t squeak as it usually did. I climbed the half-built stairs while avoiding meeting my uncle’s in-laws. I settled down on the big concrete terrace where I couldn’t be seen. From above I gazed at the well outside the house. One after the other the women went there to draw buckets of water. Some children filled used oil cans. In the distance the workers were digging in their fields. I envied the young boy who was digging near his father. He at least seemed to be master of his own destiny. Down below I saw my uncle’s mother-in-law. Her arms looked like chicken legs. She had only a thin layer of flesh on her bones, but in spite of that she worked the earth of the garden to plant some tomatoes. Since she was a widow she lived with my uncle, and to thank him for his hospitality she makes herself useful all day long. My uncle seized an incredible opportunity when he bought a large plot of land adjoining his house. In theory the well belongs to him, but he lets the villagers use it so that they won’t have to walk several kilometres to get water. His generosity is very much appreciated in Bararola.
    I hid away on the terrace as the sun went down. I wondered how long I would have to reject the marriage offers that were pouring in. I went to sleep, but my uncle woke me up to suggest coming to the room downstairs. For fear that I would fall over the side he helped me get down the stairs without a guardrail.
    The next day I went straight to school without going to our house. It was out of the question to meet my mother, who I imagined must be furious with me. When I got home afterschool a boy accompanied by his parents was in the house. My mother introduced them to me. I understood what was being plotted and when they asked me what I thought of the young man I didn’t answer.
    â€˜Are you sure she agrees?’ asked the boy’s mother.
    â€˜Yes, yes!’ replied my mother. ‘She is shy and reserved, but we spoke to her yesterday. She knows what she ought to do …’
    I hid out in a corner of the yard, my legs doubled up against my stomach.
    â€˜And how old is she?’ the mother asked.
    â€˜She’s coming up for ten. She is very gifted, you know. We’ve sent her to school so that she will be educated, and she’s top of the class. Her teachers are very proud of her. They say that she is much more intelligent than the other pupils.’
    â€˜Ah! Very good! Nowadays children should go to school. It’s very useful …’
    I wonder how this woman can know what is said or done in a school – especially as I suspect that her son has never set foot in one.
    â€˜I don’t know how to cook, and I don’t like children,’ I say in a cold and determined tone.
    â€˜Oh yes?’ replies the mother sharply. ‘But you are going to learn, I’m sure of it …’
    â€˜I don’t think so. I eat very little, and neither my older sister nor my mother has taught me.’
    â€˜She exaggerates. She lacks confidence in herself,’ my mother says, trying to reassure the other woman. ‘She has taken care of her brothers and sisters since she was quite small … I know what she’s worth. She’s very gifted.’
    â€˜Yes, she seems gifted, but my problem is that she’s too dark… You see? Compared with my son, who is lighter … How much is the dowry? I mean, bearing in mind this difference in skin colour?’
    I continued to listen to this discussion – or, rather, negotiation, I should say – that was all about me. I felt that Ma wanted a firm commitment on their part. That’s enough. I couldn’t bear this masquerade any longer. I got up