by Maryse Conde
The fruit?
Ever since that day, questions and suspicions had begun to torment him. Thank God his Cathy was no longer on this earth to share his doubts and dread. She could lie in ignorance.
Because of this apprehension that was gnawing at his heart, First-Born no longer took care of himself and his smell trailed behind him like the smoke from a sugarcane train. His forehead was half-hidden by a fringe of greasy hair. His beard grew picky-haired around his mouth. He dressed sloppily in drab, worn-out clothes. Those who had known Razyé when he was Razyé shook their heads, sighing. What a come-down! He who said “Like father, like son” didn’t know what he was saying. Boys are sent to shame the memory of their fathers. First-Born ignored the children, cautiously entrenched behind the fence, who yelled out on seeing him: “Mi guiab’là dero, kayiman!”
He was absorbed by the thought of Anthuria. Such a lovely child could not be cursed.
About the Author
Maryse Condé is the author of Segu; I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem; Tree of Life; Crossing the Mangrove; and The Last of the African Kings among others. She is the recipient of the prestigious French award, Le Grand Prix, Litteraire de la Femme, and a Guggenheim Fellow. She is a professor of French Caribbean Literature at Columbia University. She and her husband, Richard Philcox, who masterfully translated Windward Heights, divide their time between New York City and Guadeloupe.
