Descent into Night

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Descent into Night Page 14

by Edem Awumey


  46

  Kimi Blue has stopped listening to him. The first bird of the morning is making its song heard. After calling the ambulance, she asks Ito Baraka the question that has been burning her lips. She wants to know about Koli Lem. “How did Koli lose his eyes?”

  “Starting in the second week of his detention, they sat him in a chair.”

  “To torture him?”

  “Yes. In a chair facing the sun.”

  “Didn’t he close his eyes?”

  “He had to keep them open.”

  “Why?”

  “To look at the sun.”

  “That’s horrible. And what if he closed them?”

  “If he closed his eyes, the guard standing behind him would grab him by the hair, pull his head back, and open his eyelids with his fingers.”

  “He could have looked to the side or somewhere else.”

  “The sky was filled with that cruel light. And when he resisted, another soldier would crush Koli’s toes with his boots.”

  “So he kept looking at the sun.”

  “For three long weeks.”

  “All day long?”

  “Yes. Until all the lights went out.”

  “Was he sad?”

  “A little.”

  “A little?”

  “Just a little. Because everything around was ugly anyway. There was nothing beautiful to look at, except the curves of the whore who came once a month to offer her ass to the corporals.”

  “It’s true, you said that woman wasn’t ugly.”

  “Right.”

  “Nice breasts?”

  “Yes. Once she arrived at the camp in a transparent top. In the evening, in our cell, I . . . ”

  “ . . . pleasured yourself.”

  “And on cold nights, I’d go at it again. You had to hang on, one way or another.”

  “You had books.”

  “You’re getting on my nerves, Kimi Blue.”

  “Okay, I’ll stop. Should we get ready? The ambulance will be here soon.”

  “No. We’re not going to the hospital. We’re going to sleep, to play-act at spending a normal night. And just as I’ve been doing for three months, I’m going to bury my head between your breasts until dawn. Like an old fool who in spite of everything still clings to life.”

  Aylmer (Quebec), Lomé, Cape Town, June 2011–April 2013

  EDEM AWUMEY was born in Lomé, Togo. He is the author of three previous novels, Port-Melo (2006), which won the prestigious Grand prix littéraire d’Afrique noire; Les pieds sales (2009), which was a finalist for the Prix Goncourt in France; and Rose déluge (2011). The English translation of Les pieds sales, Dirty Feet (2011), was selected for the Dublin Impac Award. In 2006 Awumey was selected to be a literary protégé to the renowned Moroccan writer Tahar Ben Jelloun. Edem Awumey currently lives in Gatineau, Quebec.

 

 

 


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