Chapter 17

Abstract

Around sunset, Omar placed a palm frond mat at the back of the spirit house and sat down to look at the darkening sky. Fluffy soft pink clouds swirled like so many feathers across the western horizon, but shafts of dark orange and red light cut through the swirl, bringing a touch of celestial violence to the peaceful end of daylight. Although Omar tried to ignore Maymouna’s biting comments, they stayed with him. Who was he kidding? He had been away for so many years and had adopted the French way of life. Could he take on the sorcerer’s burden in a matter of weeks? Did he not deserve the resentment of his mother’s co-wife and his younger brothers? And how could Abdoulaye not harbor the same resentment? For many years, Abdoulaye had tended to the family, sitting at Issaka Dia’s feet, watching him, learning from him. Abdoulaye had the cool temperament that a sorcerer needed. How could Abdoulaye be so kind to his interloping older brother? And what of Fati, Omar’s new lover? The more time Omar spent at “home,” the less he understood it.