Xala (12 page)

The dim light crudely accentuated their features. The floor gave off a warm smell. Through the two facing doors the sky was full of stars. They could hear whispering outside. Someone came to take them to Sereen Mada. They crossed three enclosures before they reached him. He was waiting for them, seated on a mat on the ground. A paraffin lamp, standing a little way behind him, lit up his clothes from the back. Sereen Mada himself merged with the darkness.

‘Bismilax.'

He invited them to sit down on a mat facing him.

Modu, familiar with the correct etiquette, had removed his shoes and with both hands devoutly shook and kissed Sereen Mada's hand. El Hadji ostentatiously imitated him. After a lengthy exchange of courtesies Sereen Mada apologised unctuously. An urgent affair had required his presence. As soon as he had returned he had gone to ‘visit' them. They were asleep. Sleep is good for the body. A pity it makes us forget Yalla. He himself no longer slept.

He addressed Modu:

‘Are the intentions healthy that have guided your step to this humble concession?'

‘Healthy intentions only, master. Seated here before you is my employer. He is also more than a friend. He has been suffering from a
xala
for weeks, months. This
xala
alone brings us to you. We have come humbly as your followers to beg for your benevolent assistance.'

Modu gave details about the life of his ‘more-than-a-friend', as if he were the client. El Hadji grunted confirmation of what his employee said.

‘This kind of curse is very complicated. Very complicated. You must realize that knowledge of such things is like a well. Wells don't all have the same depth and their water does not have the same taste. This sort of curse is my speciality. But only Yalla can do anything about it. I shall try but you must pray with me. Let us beg for Yalla's gentle intercession.'

When he had finished speaking he called one of his disciples, who emerged from the dark, near the main hut. The master whispered something to him. The lad went out. Addressing the patient Sereen Mada told him what his fee would be and said that a heifer would be needed for the sacrifice. The fee was agreed. El Hadji had no cash on him. Sereen Mada knew what a cheque was. By the light of the lamp El Hadji wrote one out for him. El Hadji's fellow businessmen settled with him in the same manner. The disciple returned with a cloth, which Sereen Mada said he had obtained from the Holy One who lived a long, long way from there, near the foothills of the Atlas mountains. He instructed El Hadji to remove all his clothes, including his greegrees. After a moment's hesitation El Hadji undressed. ‘Fortunately it is dark,' he thought. The marabout made him lie on his back and covered him up to the neck with the cloth. Crouching near the prostrate man's head he said his beads.

El Hadji listened to the clicking of the beads as they fell at regular intervals onto one another. He looked up at the curved roof. Suddenly he felt as if he were on edge. A long-forgotten sensation made him break into bursts of shivering. It was as if sap was rising violently inside his body, running through its fibres and filling it right to his burning head. It went on coming in waves. Then he had the impression that he was being emptied. Slowly he relaxed and a liquid flowed through his veins towards his legs. All his being now became concentrated in the region of his loins. It caused an effervescence which startled him. Shakily his penis rose by degrees until it was stiff. Lifting
his head and craning his neck, he looked down at it where it was covered by the cloth.

‘Modu! Modu! Look!' he cried, overcome with astonishment.

‘
Alhamdoullilah
!' exclaimed Modu with immense satisfaction, as if it was he himself who was being cured.

Sereen Mada passed the palm of his hand over El Hadji's scalp and face. His soft hand smelt strongly of musk.

‘Move your ears,' ordered Sereen Mada.

El Hadji obeyed. He was overjoyed. He discovered he had ears. His whole body was tingling with life.

‘It is over. The curse is broken,' said Sereen Mada.

El Hadji dressed. He was full of gratitude for the master.

‘I have your cheque. What I have taken away I can restore equally quickly,' said Sereen Mada, returning to his original place.

El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye, talking volubly, promised heaven and earth. He swore that his bank account had sufficient funds to meet the cheque.

The night had grown older.

El Hadji was in a hurry to get back to Dakar. His virility was restored and he was thinking of his third wife. A messenger was sent to wake the cart-driver, who came with his ancient horse. On the return journey a euphoric El Hadji chatted with the driver. His blood was hot.

It was day when they reached Dakar. Seeing two policemen, Modu slowed down the car.

He shared the joyous, good-natured mood of his employer who, cheered by his cure, told him without inhibition of his weeks and months of misery. Happy and jovial, and with plenty of exaggeration, he described the ill-effects of the
xala
. He was regenerated, brimming with vigour. He could barely contain his desire. As they drove through the town he admired the buildings, the people in the streets, the bright colours.

‘At which villa shall I drop you, boss? At which port of call?' teased Modu.

The ‘at which villa' had taken him by surprise, interrupting the
warm flow of his inner excitement. In effect, he had three villas and three wives, but where was his real
home
? At the houses of the three wives he was merely ‘passing through.' Three nights each! He had nowhere a corner of his own into which he could withdraw and be alone. With each of his wives everything began and ended with the bed. Was he having second thoughts? Were these profound reflections? Whatever it was it left him with an after-taste of regret.

‘At which villa?' he repeated to himself. At Adja Awa Astou's? There was nothing simple about that woman's simplicity. She was deeply religious and lived according to the teachings of her Muslim faith, accomplishing her conjugal duties with wifely obedience.

Oumi N'Doye's? A volcano! She would get every advantage she could from an unexpected visit, seeing it as a mark of preference, and would demand more such visits.

N‘Gone's? In her case he had an insult to get off his chest. That Badyen woman had flouted him too much. The whole family was living on him like jiggers. How had that third marriage come about? A spark of lucidity flashed through his mind. ‘N'Gone is certainly attractive. But what really had drawn him to her? Was it the demon of middle-age? Was he nothing but a pleasure-seeker?'

He could find no answer. But he was sure now that he had never had any real feeling for her. Narcissism? He took stock and congratulated himself on having faced the danger and overcome it. He made his decision: he would finish with all this virginity hocus-pocus. It was proving too expansive.

‘To the third's place!'

‘At last!' sighed Modu, putting his foot on the accelerator.

The Badyen was the first to see him get out of the Mercedes, his suit crumpled, his hair ruffled, his face dirty, his shoes – like the car – covered in dust. A rapid but thorough inspection told her that the man had recovered his virility.

‘
Alhamdoullilah
!' she cried, putting on a face to suit the occasion. ‘I knew you would “free” yourself! How did you do it? Which of your wives was it?'

‘
Alhamdoullilah
!' he replied, reaching the verandah in a single energetic bound.

Yay Bineta, the Badyen, followed close at his heels.

‘El Hadji, listen! N'Gone started her period last night,' she said, entering the bedroom with him. She kept the door ajar.

The room was lit by a bright light, down to the feet of the dressed tailor's dummy. The furnishings were exactly as they had been. N'Gone woke up.

‘What did you say?' exclaimed the man, staring at the Badyen.

‘I said N'Gone was not available at the moment. She started her period last night. N‘Gone, you tell him.'

‘It is true. It started yesterday. It's given me a stomach-ache,' N'Gone explained in French.

El Hadji refused to believe them. Rearing like a stallion he confronted the Badyen in a silent duel. The latent repulsion he felt for the woman and which he had always kept in check welled up violently. His aversion was evident in the hardness of his look. It was this woman who had instigated this third marriage, he told himself. It was she too who had prevented him from having N‘Gone before they were married. If N'Gone had always managed to slip through his fingers, it was because she, the Badyen, was there in the shadows, advising and prompting her. El Hadji cursed himself for having been such a weak fool.

‘Do you want to see her linen?' asked the Badyen, knowing very well that the man would not go so far as to insist on seeing this piece of cloth.

El Hadji looked with severity at each of the two women in turn. ‘It is someone close to you.' With this thought in his mind he hurried out.

Yay Bineta ran after him.

‘El Hadji, believe us! It is true! Listen, I must speak to you.'

In the car he ordered his chauffeur:

‘To Oumi N'Doye's.'

He could no longer hear what the Badyen was saying.

At his second wife's villa his arrival did not seem to cause surprise. Oumi N‘Doye dragged him off to ‘her' room. They spent the whole day and night in bed, to the woman's great satisfaction.

The next morning, shaved, wearing a ‘Prince of Wales' suit, and his black shoes well polished, El Hadji breakfasted with appetite: the
juice of two oranges, eggs and ham, white coffee, bread and butter. The maid placed the bottle of mineral water on the table and withdrew. Oumi N'Doye was overjoyed to see her husband's knife and fork at work. She was in a seventh heaven, thrilled with these pleasures brought to her outside her own
moomé.

‘Shall I tell you something, El Hadji?' she said, her head gently resting on one hand, her elbows on the table.

El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye looked at his wife with an air of self-assurance. He wiped his lips with dabs of his serviette and said:

‘I am listening.'

‘I had heard you had the
xala
.'

El Hadji did hot reply immediately. With a confident gesture he poured himself a glass of mineral water, looking at his wife.

‘Who did you hear it from, that I had this
xala
?'

‘People.'

‘What people?'

‘In the neighbourhood.'

‘What do you think, wife?'

‘Oh!' she cried, her mouth round, her eyes lowered with just a hint of modesty. Then raising her head: ‘People have evil tongues. Why don't you stay and rest here today? You work too hard. Your hair is going white.'

‘I am going to the office,' he said, rising.

‘You will come back this evening? Just for a minute?'

‘Oumi, it is not your
aye.
'

And he left her.

 

 

The faithful Modu was at the wheel. The Mercedes had not been cleaned.

‘I'm sorry, boss, about. the car...'

‘Take me to the office, then you can see to it.'

Comfortably ensconced in the right-hand corner behind the driver, El Hadji contemplated the future with optimism and assurance. He was preoccupied with the question of divorcing his third wife, N'Gone. He felt vindictive and was determined to satisfy his urge for revenge. Calculating the expense occasioned by the wedding he decided his only course of action was to get her pregnant and then
repudiate her. The suspicion that the
xala
had been caused by the Badyen had become a certainty. That family had damaged his male honour. The whole town knew about his affliction. Happily he had regained his form.

The car-washer, standing on the edge of the pavement with a pail of water at his feet, watched Modu manoeuvre to park the car. Rama had parked her Fiat in front. She too watched the chauffeur's manoeuvring.