Read Online Xala by Ousmane Sembène - Free Book Online

more, you know.’ Adja Awa Astou looked round at the objects hung on the walls. ‘Your father is very busy at the moment,’ replied her mother picking up a book. Holding the book in her hands gave her courage. But she still hesitated to speak. Good wife though she was, amenable, and an excellent mother, she could not hide her unhappiness. The question which had been on her mind for so long came tumbling out:
    â€˜What are people saying?’
    Rama looked at her mother. She was embarrassed but choosing her words carefully she said slowly:
    â€˜They are talking about father’s xala .’
    Adja Awa Astou drew in her chin, her eyes fixed on the book. There was a long silence. ‘So everyone knows about it,’ she said, speaking to herself. Slowly she raised her head and looked at her daughter:
    â€˜What should I do?’ she said, her voice full of entreaty.
    Rama remained silent. Her own feelings were divided. She was deeply opposed to polygamy. She knew what it was that kept her mother in that state: it was for their sakes, the children’s. She excused this weakness but was unable to say so.

    Two or three days previously Rama had gone as usual to meet her flancé, Pathé, at the hospital. Pathé had finished his studies in psychiatry a year earlier and was now practising. It was the end of the day. A male nurse went up to Pathé:
    â€˜Doctor, the registrar wants you. It’s urgent.’
    Pathé set off down the passage. At the entrance to the waiting-room he came face to face with El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye. The two men knew one another.
    â€˜Nothing serious, I hope?’ inquired Pathé reacting in a purely professional manner.

    â€˜No, nothing,’ El Hadji replied hastily. Then: ‘Doctor, I don’t see you at Adja’s villa any more. I hope you haven’t quarrelled with Rama.’
    The doctor smiled. He looked so young his superiors all marvelled at his precocity.
    â€˜No, I’ve been busy.’
    â€˜That’s a relief. We’ll see you soon then.’
    Pathé opened the registrar’s door.
    â€˜Did you see him?’ asked the registrar, tidying his table.
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜El Hadji Abdou Kader Beye.’
    â€˜Yes. Has he made a donation to the hospital?’
    â€˜No such luck. He came about something quite different: his third wife.’
    â€˜Pregnant already?’
    â€˜Alas, no. You must be joking. He hasn’t been able to manage an erection for nights now. He thinks someone has made him impotent, so he came for a pick-me-up. Those were his words.’
    They laughed.
    â€˜It’s purely psychological,’ said Pathé.
    â€˜Perhaps. He was all right before his wedding night. But on the night itself he couldn’t consummate the marriage. He is convinced that it’s a xala. You know what that is?’
    â€˜I’ve heard of it.’
    â€˜Well then, you have a case of xala .’
    â€˜What can I do? It wasn’t me he came to consult. If you think science is powerless...’
    â€˜Don’t speak too quickly, Pathé. Science is never powerless. There are many fields still to be explored. Besides we are in Africa, where you can’t explain or resolve everything in biochemical terms. Among our own people it’s the irrational that holds sway. Why not see what you can find out about his visits to the marabouts.’
    â€˜I’m not very intimate with him. I see his daughter of course.’
    â€˜There you are! You have a foot in the camp. That’s all, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
    Outside Pathé chewed over his anger. A host of ideas raged in his head. Should he talk to Rama?’
    â€˜Lovely man, I’m here, here for you, even though you’re late,’ she
said to Pathé, who had changed into terylene trousers and an African shirt with short sleeves and embroidery round the neck.
    â€˜I’m sorry I’m