Xala by Ousmane Sembène Read Free Book Online

eagerly.
    â€˜I do know a marabout. But he is very expensive.’
    â€˜His price will be mine.’
    â€˜Let’s go then.’
    In the street the President said a few words to his chauffeur – a fat man with eyes reddened by chronic conjunctivitis who shook his head continuously – then took his place beside El Hadji in Modu’s Mercedes.

    At the same time as the President and El Hadji were driving in the Mercedes along the main road of the town towards the suburbs, Yay Bineta, the Badyen, was leaving the conjugal villa. She was in a mood of bitter disappointment. The man might be suffering physically from his xala but she was the moral victim. Her dreams had been shattered. ‘I know how to defend myself. So El Hadji’s wives want to get rid of us, do they? They want to humiliate us perhaps? I swear by my ancestors that within three months the co-wives will be repudiated and thrown away like worn-out rags. Or else they will kneel before my N’Gone like slaves,’ she promised herself. She went past the two-seater wedding present, perched high on its trailer with its white bow. She had the key and the licence for the car under her cloth. She did not trust the man’s intentions.
    She crossed the road and hailed a taxi.
    In order to understand this woman one needs to know her background. Yay Bineta had always been hounded by bad luck, ay gaaf . She had had two husbands, both now in their graves. The traditionalists held that she must have her fill of deaths: a third victim. So no man would marry her for fear of being this victim. This is a society in which very few women overcome this kind of reputation. She was seen as a devourer of men, the promise of an early death. Because of her ay gaaf, men kept out of her way, and married women of her age preferred to divorce rather than risk widowhood near her. Yay Bineta suffered deeply from her situation. She knew she was condemned to remain a widow for the rest of her life. In order to save
face and to preserve the balance of her mind her parents had gone so far as to ‘put her on offer’, as it were. But. no man would, take it up.
    The marriage of her brother’s daughter was her marriage.
    She exchanged the customary greetings and entered the single bed-sitting-room shared by her brother’s children and grandchildren. Babacar was seated on a mat reading the Koran. Mam Fatou hurried forward eagerly to welcome the Badyen. She wanted news of her daughter. Had she really kept herself a virgin? Mam Fatou had not slept a wink all night.
    â€˜Can I talk?’ asked the Badyen.
    â€˜Yes,’ said N’Gone’s mother, intrigued by the question.
    â€˜We have been insulted! El Hadji has not consummated the marriage.’
    â€˜What? What do you mean?’
    Babacar. stopped his reading.
    â€˜Just what I said. El Hadji has the xala .’
    The three of them looked at one another without speaking.
    â€˜Babacar, did you hear?’ said Mam Fatou breaking the silence.
    The old man had been so taken by surprise he could only nod his head up and down.
    â€˜What’s to be done?’ asked Mam Fatou.
    â€˜El Hadji has gone to find a healer,’ said Yay Bineta. ‘His wives are bad, worse than whooping-cough in an adult.’
    â€˜To be honest I wasn’t happy about this marriage from the start. It was too easy, too good to be true in these times,’ said Mam Fatou, looking at her husband.
    A heavy silence followed this remark.
    â€˜Say that again,’ shouted the Badyen, ready to, leap at her like a tigress. ‘You should have said so before it was too late, and openly. El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye didn’t force our hand.’
    The Badyen spoke harshly and glared angrily at her sister-in-law, her face hard.
    â€˜You misunderstand me. I am worried for our N’Gone,’ said the mother, anxious to avoid a quarrel with the Badyen.
    Yay Bineta’s dislike for her brother’s wife