Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [63]
CHAPTER 26
“Aiee! Aiee!” The women’s happy shrieks rang out, and the people were rushing from their huts, laughing, dancing, and clapping their hands as Kunta’s kafo—and those who had turned fifteen and become fourth kafo while they were away at the jujuo—strode in through the village gate at the break of dawn. The new men walked slowly, with what they hoped was dignity, and they didn’t speak or smile—at first. When he saw his mother running toward him, Kunta felt like dashing to meet her, and he couldn’t stop his face from lighting up, but he made himself continue walking at the same measured pace. Then Binta was upon him—arms around his neck, hands carressing his cheeks, tears welling in her eyes, murmuring his name. Kunta permitted this only briefly before he drew away, being now a man; but he made it seem as if he did so only to get a better look at the yowling bundle cradled snugly in the sling across her back. Reaching inside, he lifted the baby out with both hands.
“So this is my brother Madi!” he shouted happily, holding him high in the air.
Binta beamed at his side as he walked toward her hut with the baby in his arms—making faces and cooing and squeezing the plump little cheeks. But Kunta wasn’t so taken with his little brother that he failed to notice the herd of naked children that followed close behind them with eyes as wide as their mouths. Two or three were at his knees, and others darted in and out among Binta and the other women, who were all exclaiming over how strong and healthy Kunta looked, how manly he’d become. He pretended not to hear, but it was music to his ears.
Kunta wondered where Omoro was, and where Lamin was—remembering abruptly that his little brother would be away grazing the goats. He had sat down inside Binta’s hut before he noticed that one of the bigger first-kafo children had followed them inside and now stood staring at him and clinging to Binta’s skirt. “Hello, Kunta,” said the little boy. It was Suwadu! Kunta couldn’t believe it. When he had left for manhood training, Suwadu was just something underfoot, too small to take notice of except when he was annoying Kunta with his eternal whining. Now, within the space of four moons, he seemed to have grown taller, and he was beginning to talk; he had become a person. Giving the baby back to Binta, he picked up Suwadu and swung him high up to the roof of Binta’s hut, until his little brother yelped with delight.
When he finished visiting with Suwadu, who ran outside to see some of the other new men, the hut fell silent. Brimming over with joy and pride, Binta felt no need to speak. Kunta did. He wanted to tell her how much he had missed her and how it gladdened him to be home. But he couldn’t find the words. And he knew it wasn’t the sort of thing a man should say to a woman—even to his mother.
“Where is my father?” he asked finally.
“He’s cutting thatch grass for your hut,” said Binta. In his excitement, Kunta had nearly forgotten that, as a man, he would now have his own private hut. He walked outside and hurried to the place where his father had always told him one could cut the best quality of roofing thatch.
Omoro saw him coming, and Kunta’s heart raced as he saw his father begin walking to meet him. They shook hands in the manner of men, each looking deeply into the other’s eyes, seeing the other for the first time as man to man. Kunta felt almost weak with emotion, and they were silent for a moment. Then Omoro said, as if he were commenting on the weather, that he had acquired for Kunta a hut whose previous owner had married and built a new house. Would he like to inspect the hut now? Kunta