Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [72]
A long moment passed, and then Omoro spoke again. “I think I’ll go by your mother’s house.” Kunta’s heart leaped. He knew it was his father’s way of saying that his permission was given, and he felt it best that he personally make his decision known to Binta.
Omoro wasn’t long in Binta’s hut. He had hardly left to return to his own when she burst out her door, hands pressed tightly to her shaking head. “Madi! Suwadu!” she shrieked, and they came rushing to her from among the other children.
Now other mothers came from their huts, and unmarried girls, all rushing behind Binta as she began hollering and pulling the two boys alongside her toward the well. Once there, all of the women crowded about her as she wept and moaned that now she had only two children left, that her others certainly would soon be lost to toubob.
A second-kafo girl, unable to contain the news of Kunta’s trip with Lamin, raced all the way out to where the boys of her kafo were grazing the goats. A short time later, back in the village, heads jerked around with smiles on their faces as a deliriously joyful boy came whooping into the village in a manner fit to wake the ancestors. Catching up with his mother just outside her hut, Lamin—though still a hand’s span shorter than her—bearhugged Binta, planted big kisses on her forehead and swept her whirling up off her feet as she shouted to be put down. Once back on the ground, she ran to pick up a nearby piece of wood and struck Lamin with it. She would have done it again, but he dashed away—feeling no pain—toward Kunta’s hut. He didn’t even knock as he burst inside. It was an unthinkable intrusion into a man’s house—but after a glimpse at his brother’s face, Kunta had to overlook it. Lamin just stood there, looking up into the face of his big brother. The boy’s mouth was trying to say something; indeed, his whole body was trembling, and Kunta had to catch himself to keep from grabbing and hugging Lamin in the rush of love he felt passing between them in that moment.
Kunta heard himself speaking, his tone almost gruff. “I see you’ve already heard. We’ll leave tomorrow after first prayer.”
Man or not, Kunta took care to walk nowhere near Binta as he made several quick calls to see friends about caring for his farm and filling in for him on sentry duty. Kunta could tell where Binta was from the sound of her wailing as she marched around the village holding Madi and Suwadu by the hand. “These two only I have left!” she cried, as loudly as she could. But like everyone else in Juffure, she knew that no matter what she felt or said or did, Omoro had spoken.
CHAPTER 30
At the travelers’ tree, Kunta prayed for their journey to be a safe one. So that it would be a prosperous one as well, he tied the chicken he had brought along to a lower branch by one of its legs, leaving it flapping and squawking there as he and Lamin set forth on the trail. Though he didn’t turn back to look, Kunta knew Lamin was trying very hard to keep pace with him, and to keep his headload balanced—and to keep Kunta from noticing either.
After an hour, the trail took them by a low, spreading tree strung thickly with beads. Kunta wanted to explain to Lamin how such a tree meant that living nearby were some of the few Mandinkas who were kafirs, pagan unbelievers who used snuff and smoked tobacco in pipes made of wood with earthen bowls, and also drank a beer they made of mead. But more important than that knowledge was for Lamin to learn the discipline of silent marching. By noontime, Kunta knew that Lamin’s feet and legs would be hurting him badly, and also his neck under the heavy headload. But it was only by keeping on despite pain that a boy could toughen his body and his spirit. At the same time, Kunta knew that Lamin must stop for rest before he collapsed, which would hurt his pride.
Taking the bypass trail to miss the first village they passed, they soon