Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [38]
Kunta found himself nearly trotting to keep the proper two paces behind Omoro. He saw that almost two of his quick, short steps were necessary for each long, smooth stride of his father. After about an hour of this, Kunta’s excitement had waned almost as much as his pace. His headbundle began to feel heavier and heavier, and he had a terrible thought: Suppose he grew so tired he couldn’t keep up? Fiercely, he told himself he would drop in his tracks before that would happen.
Here and there, as they passed, snuffling wild pigs would go rushing into the underbush, and partridges would whir up, and rabbits would bound for cover. But Kunta wouldn’t have paid an elephant much attention in his determination to keep up with Omoro. The mucles below Kunta’s knees were beginning to ache a little. His face was sweating, and so was his head; he could tell by the way his bundle began sliding off balance, a little bit one way or the other, and he kept having to put both his hands up there to readjust it.
Ahead, after a while, Kunta saw that they were approaching the travelers’ tree of some small village. He wondered what village it was; he was sure he would know its name if his father said it, but Omoro had neither spoken nor looked back ever since they left Juffure. A few minutes later, Kunta saw dashing out to meet them—as he himself had once done—some naked children of the first kafo. They were waving and hallooing, and when they got closer, he could see their eyes widen at the sight of one so young traveling with his father.
“Where are you going?” they chattered, scampering on either side of Kunta. “Is he your fa?” “Are you Mandinka?” “What’s your village?” Weary as he was, Kunta felt very mature and important, ignoring them just as his father was doing.
Near every travelers’ tree, the trail would fork, one leading on into the village and the other past it, so that a person with no business there could pass on by without being considered rude. As Omoro and Kunta took the fork that passed by this village, the little children exclaimed unhappily, but the grown-ups seated under the village baobab only threw glances at the travelers, for holding everyone’s attention was a griot whom Kunta could hear loudly orating about the greatness of Mandinkas. There would be many griots, praise singers, and musicians at the blessing of his uncles’ new village, Kunta thought.
The sweat began to run into Kunta’s eyes, making him blink to stop the stinging. Since they had begun walking, the sun had crossed only half the sky, but his legs already hurt so badly, and his headload had become so heavy, that he began to think he wasn’t going to make it. A feeling of panic was rising in him when Omoro suddenly stopped and swung his headload to the ground alongside a clear pool at the side of the trail. Kunta stood for a moment trying to control his unsteady legs. He clutched his headbundle to take it down, but it slipped from his fingers and fell with a bump. Mortified, he knew his father had heard—but Omoro was on his knees drinking from the spring, without a sign that his son was even there.
Kunta hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. Hobbling over to the water’s edge, he kneeled down to drink—but his legs refused the position. After trying again in vain, he finally lay down on his stomach, braced himself on his elbows, and managed to lower his mouth to the water.
“Just a little.” It was the first time his father had spoken since they left Juffure, and it shocked Kunta. “Swallow a little, wait, then a little more.” For some reason, he felt angry toward his father. “Yes, Fa,” he intended to say, but no sound came. He sipped some cool water and swallowed it. Making himself wait, he wanted to collapse. After sipping a little more, he sat up and rested beside the pool. The thought passed through his mind that manhood training must be something like this. And then, sitting upright, he drifted off to sleep.
When he awakened with a start—how long had it been?—Omoro was nowhere to be seen. Jumping up, Kunta saw the big headload under a nearby tree; so his