Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [10]
Upon receiving his ordination as a holy man, Kairaba Kunta Kinte had himself wandered for many moons alone, among places in Old Mali such as Keyla, Djeela, Kangaba, and Timbuktu, humbly prostrating himself before very great old holy men and imploring their blessings for his success, which they all freely gave. And Allah then guided the young holy man’s footsteps in a southerly direction, finally to The Gambia, where he stopped first in the village of Pakali N’Ding.
In a short while, the people of this village knew, by the quick results from his prayers, that this young holy man had upon him Allah’s special favor. Talking drums spread the news, and soon other villages tried to lure him away, sending messengers with offers of prime maidens for wives, and slaves and cattle and goats. And before long he did move, this time to the village of Jiffarong, but only because Allah had called him there, for the people of Jiffarong had little to offer him but their gratitude for his prayers. It was here that he heard of the village of Juffure, where people were sick and dying for lack of a big rain. And so at last he came to Juffure, said Grandma Yaisa, where for five days, ceaselessly, he had prayed until Allah sent down the big rain that saved the village.
Learning of Kunta’s grandfather’s great deed, the King of Barra himself, who ruled this part of The Gambia, personally presented a choice virgin for the young holy man’s first wife, and her name was Sireng. By Sireng, Kairaba Kunta Kinte begot two sons—and he named them Janneh and Saloum.
By now, Grandma Yaisa had sat up on her bamboo pallet. “It was then,” she said with shining eyes, “that he saw Yaisa, dancing the seoruba! My age was fifteen rains!” She smiled widely, showing her toothless gums. “He needed no king to choose his next wife!” She looked at Kunta. “It was from my belly that he begot your papa Omoro.”
That night, back in his mother’s hut, Kunta lay awake for a long time, thinking of the things Grandma Yaisa had told him. Many times, Kunta had heard about the grandfather holy man whose prayers had saved the village, and whom later Allah had taken back. But Kunta had never truly understood until now that this man was his father’s father, that Omoro had known him as he knew Omoro, that Grandma Yaisa was Omoro’s mother as Binta was his own. Some day, he too would find a woman such as Binta to bear him a son of his own. And that son, in turn ...
Turning over and closing his eyes, Kunta followed these deep thoughts slowly into sleep.
CHAPTER 6
Just before sundown for the next few days, after returning from the rice field, Binta would send Kunta to the village well for a calabash of fresh water, which she would use to boil a soup from whatever scraps she could find. Then she and Kunta would take some of the soup across the village to Grandma Yaisa. Binta moved more slowly than usual, it seemed to Kunta, and he noticed that her belly was very big and heavy.
While Grandma Yaisa protested weakly that she would soon feel well again, Binta would clean up the hut and arrange things. And they would leave Grandma Yaisa propped up on her bed, eating a bowl of soup along with some of Binta’s hungry-season bread, made from the yellow powder that covered the dry black beans of the wild locust tree.
Then one night, Kunta awakened to find himself being shaken roughly by his father. Binta was making low, moaning sounds on her bed, and also within the hut, moving quickly about, were Nyo Boto and Binta’s friend Jankay Touray. Omoro hurried across the village with Kunta, who, wondering what all of this was about, soon drifted back to sleep on his father’s bed.
In the morning, Omoro again awakened Kunta and said, “You have a new brother.” Scrambling sleepily onto his knees and rubbing his