Chapter 16

Abstract

That Thursday morning passed like most days in Issaka Dia’s compound. Just as the sun peeked over the rim of the eastern sky, Abdoulaye and Omar built a small fire. They then filled a large teapot with water and put it atop the fire. After the water hissed, boiled vigorously, and then bubbled out from the teapot’s lid, they poured it over mounds of Nescafé, powdered milk, and sugar that they had shaped in the bottom of their plastic mugs. Coffee mugs in hand, they repaired to long red leather pillows that had been placed on two straw mats situated at the end of Abdoulaye’s house. Reclining on their pillows, they looked out toward the bush and sipped their coffee, saying little to one another. In short order, Abdoulaye’s daughter, thin as a blade of desert grass and perhaps ten years old, brought them a pot of rice and sauce—the previous evening’s dinner that had been reheated. Another young girl, shorter and thinner than Abdoulaye’s daughter, walked toward them, a tin platter balanced upon her head.