what a battle! 3

“Oh it’s a cool house!” Amison says, Pascal has nodded. Right now, for me it’s the coolest ever, so peaceful! And Ziguinchor so welcoming, so nonchalant, so healing! After a good real meal and a deserved nap, we’re sitting low in front of Asper’s house where Amison will stay for the night. It’s evening time; I’m meeting Patrice Mendy who’s responsible to dispatch the luggage for Ziguinchor mine included. Many boys of my generation were named Patrice because of Patrice Lumumba. It’s 8:00 pm; Asper has called from the truck saying they are blocked at the bridge at the entry of the town. Pascal is laughing: “He knows how to pass quickly, I gave him the money for that, every thing is clean, that’s it! No refill!” The night is there; after a generous dish in Binta’s restaurant we’re finishing the evening in a trendy bar near the stadium. Good music, not too loud, but we have nothing to say. Amison, the strong man, have left in a cab with a mysterious shadow. We are the 3 of us Pascal, Patrice Mendy and I, 2 beers already. Pascal‘s phone is singing the Americo Gomes hit, “mtsis” “go back home”, it’s Asper on the phone, he has passed the checkpoint and he wants to unload the truck right now. It’s about 9:00 pm; “Ok as you wish” said Pascal, “go ahead but without me”. We could have done it tomorrow in daylight but… I’m proud to have shared this ride with Pascal; he is a modern samurai, a knight, he has panache. The equipment is about to stay all night long in a courtyard under the stars but we’re phlegmatic, confident. 10:00 pm; we’re killing the evening that hasn’t started actually, Rendezvous tomorrow at 8:00 at Asper’s.

Wednesday The 17th, 9:00 pm; we’re in front of Asper’s house, the truck is full up with the luggage for Guinea-Bissau. Pascal, Amison and Asper are following their way southbound, in the truck. I’m staying with Patrice Mendy; we’re waiting for a new truck that will transport the luggage all over Zig. Truck is there, we’re uploading again, my eyes are everywhere, my Wolof is fluent, action, truck is loaded, and we are in, heading to the red little house. Got there, I go down the truck; neighbors are there too, deliberately watching the scene. We have start to unload my stuff and carry it directly in the house, children of the neighborhood have join the party, I’m checking they ‘re not handling too heavy boxes, they smile, shouting my first name and forming a happy farandole. It’s done! It’s in the house! My birthday is a 17th, is it a new one? In the evening the liberating rain is pouring heavily in a stormed refreshing wind.

Aucun commentaire:

Enregistrer un commentaire