M’ma Asana did not see but she felt him win the battle. She crossed the threshold outside and drew the door behind her. Issa led the way. They did not walk far, however. They just turned into a corner between two of the projecting pillars in the wall of the kraal. It was Issa who stood with his back to the wall. And this was as it should have been, for it was he who needed the comforting coolness of it for his backbone.

‘M’ma, is Fuseni well?’

‘Yes.’

‘M’ma, is Hawa well?’

‘Yes.’

‘M’ma please tell me, is Fuseni very well?’

‘A-ah, my son. For what are you troubling yourself so much?’ ‘Fuseni is a new baby who was born not more than ten days. How can I tell you he is very well? When a grown-up goes to live in other people’s village . . .’

‘M’ma.’

‘What is it?’

‘No. Please it is nothing.’

‘My son, I cannot understand you this evening. Yes, if you, a grown-up person, goes to live in another village, will you say after the first few days that you are perfectly well?’

‘No.’

‘Shall you not get yourself used to their food? Shall you not find first where you can get water for yourself and your sheep?’

‘Yes, M’ma.’

‘Then how is it you ask me if Fuseni is very well? The navel is healing very fast . . . and how would it not? Not a single navel of all that I have cut here got infected. Shall I now cut my grandson’s and then sit and see it rot? But it is his male that I can’t say. Mallam did it neat and proper and it must be alright. Your family is not noted for males that rot, is it now?’

‘No, M’ma.’

‘Then let your heart lie quiet in your breast. Fuseni is well but we cannot say how well yet.’

‘I have heard you, M’ma . . . M’ma . . .’

‘Yes, my son.’

‘M’ma, I am going South.’

‘Where did you say?’

‘South.’

‘How far?’

‘As far as the sea. M’ma I thought you would understand.’

‘Have I spoken yet?’

‘No, you have not.’

‘Then why did you say that?’

‘That was not well said.’

‘And what are you going to do there?’

‘Find some work.’

‘What work?’

‘I do not know.’

‘Yes, you know, you are going to cut grass.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘But my son, why must you travel that far just to cut grass? Is there not enough of it all round here? Around this kraal, your father’s and all the others in the village? Why do you not cut these?’

‘M’ma, you know it is not the same. If I did that here people will think I am mad. But over there, I have heard that not only do they like it but the government pays you to do it.’