If you want really bad news, go and listen to a radio.’
‘I did,’ said Sophie, ‘but no one around here can tell me what it said.’
The crier scowled and moved on, beating his tam-tam. ‘RED SPECKLED COW!’ he yelled. ‘LAST SEEN ON WEDNESDAY MORNING GRAZING NEAR TONDIAKARA! IF YOU KNOW WHERE SHE IS, CONTACT YUSUF DIKKO!’
‘Thanks for your help,’ muttered Sophie.
‘Come on,’ said Gidaado behind her, ‘we’re late for the ceremony. HOOSH-KA!’ he yelled, twirling his staff in the air. Chobbal broke into a run and Sophie grabbed the wooden prongs on the front of the saddle just in time to avoid falling off.
‘Gidaado!’ shrieked Sophie. ‘You know it is forbidden for animals to run in the market.’
‘He’s trotting, not running,’ said Gidaado. ‘HOOSH-BARAKAAAA!’
Chobbal picked up his hooves and the huts and stalls on either side became a blur. The rushing wind tousled Sophie’s hair and blasted hotly against her eyeballs.
‘ Now he’s running!’ said Gidaado.
Chapter 2
Sophie screamed again. Galloping in the market was not like galloping in the desert. Not only was it forbidden, it was also terrifying. The streets of Gorom-Gorom’s central market swarmed with men and women. When they heard the sound of hooves behind them, they turned round to find a white camel bearing down upon them. Children fled, cyclists swerved and old men jumped aside with remarkable agility.
Just in front of them strolled a young woman carrying a plate of fried fish on her head. The baby on her back was crying so loudly that she did not hear the approaching camel hooves. Sophie closed her eyes and yanked the reins sharply to the right, sending Chobbal careering into a fruit stall. There was a yellow-green explosion as bananas, guavas and mangos scattered far and wide. Chobbal charged on through the debris and the stallholder jumped up and shook his fist at Sophie. ‘A hanyan!’ he roared after her, which was not a polite thing to say.
Gidaado whooped. ‘That was a near miss,’ he yelled.
‘You call that a miss ?’ said Sophie, wiping bits of over-ripe mango off her face.
As they neared the police post on the edge of town, a man in a smart khaki uniform stepped out into the road and waved at them to stop. Chobbal did not even break his stride.
‘Arrêtez! ’ shouted the policeman, reaching for the pistol in his holster.
‘Gidaado!’ screamed Sophie.
Gidaado peered round Sophie and waved his staff cheerily at the policeman. ‘UNCLE DEMBO!’ he bellowed. ‘WE’RE LATE FOR IBRAHIIM’S NAMING CEREMONY.’
The policeman’s stern face broke into a grin of recognition. ‘HURRY UP THEN, GIDA,’ he shouted in Fulfulde, ‘AND GIVE MY APOLOGIES TO IBRAHIIM! I AM ON DUTY ALL TODAY!’
On the outskirts of Gorom-Gorom a mobile phone mast was being erected, the first one in the whole province. A crowd of curious children stood at a safe distance and watched open-mouthed as workmen heaved on the mast’s tension cables.
The cattle market and the water tower flashed past and then the road came to an abrupt end. Chobbal galloped on eagerly into the sand. Looking back, Sophie saw the town’s enormous welcome sign written in French and Fulfulde:
BIENVENUE A GOROM-GOROM!
GOROM-GOROM WI’I BISMILLAHI!
Welcome to Gorom-Gorom, read Sophie, and she thought again of the sauterelles which were at that very moment on their way here. What could they be ? Gigantic carnivorous plants, perhaps. That would give her Dad something to study. He was in his fourth year of research here and still had not found anything truly spectacular. But, thought Sophie, one of the sauterelles would probably eat Dad alive before he could even set up his microscope.
Gidaado’s voice in Sophie’s ear interrupted these morbid thoughts. ‘See that big white rock?’ he shouted, pointing with his staff.
‘Yes,’ yelled Sophie.
‘That’s Tondiakara, where the magicians go at night to sacrifice chickens.’
‘Lovely!’
‘I did,’ said Sophie, ‘but no one around here can tell me what it said.’
The crier scowled and moved on, beating his tam-tam. ‘RED SPECKLED COW!’ he yelled. ‘LAST SEEN ON WEDNESDAY MORNING GRAZING NEAR TONDIAKARA! IF YOU KNOW WHERE SHE IS, CONTACT YUSUF DIKKO!’
‘Thanks for your help,’ muttered Sophie.
‘Come on,’ said Gidaado behind her, ‘we’re late for the ceremony. HOOSH-KA!’ he yelled, twirling his staff in the air. Chobbal broke into a run and Sophie grabbed the wooden prongs on the front of the saddle just in time to avoid falling off.
‘Gidaado!’ shrieked Sophie. ‘You know it is forbidden for animals to run in the market.’
‘He’s trotting, not running,’ said Gidaado. ‘HOOSH-BARAKAAAA!’
Chobbal picked up his hooves and the huts and stalls on either side became a blur. The rushing wind tousled Sophie’s hair and blasted hotly against her eyeballs.
‘ Now he’s running!’ said Gidaado.
Chapter 2
Sophie screamed again. Galloping in the market was not like galloping in the desert. Not only was it forbidden, it was also terrifying. The streets of Gorom-Gorom’s central market swarmed with men and women. When they heard the sound of hooves behind them, they turned round to find a white camel bearing down upon them. Children fled, cyclists swerved and old men jumped aside with remarkable agility.
Just in front of them strolled a young woman carrying a plate of fried fish on her head. The baby on her back was crying so loudly that she did not hear the approaching camel hooves. Sophie closed her eyes and yanked the reins sharply to the right, sending Chobbal careering into a fruit stall. There was a yellow-green explosion as bananas, guavas and mangos scattered far and wide. Chobbal charged on through the debris and the stallholder jumped up and shook his fist at Sophie. ‘A hanyan!’ he roared after her, which was not a polite thing to say.
Gidaado whooped. ‘That was a near miss,’ he yelled.
‘You call that a miss ?’ said Sophie, wiping bits of over-ripe mango off her face.
As they neared the police post on the edge of town, a man in a smart khaki uniform stepped out into the road and waved at them to stop. Chobbal did not even break his stride.
‘Arrêtez! ’ shouted the policeman, reaching for the pistol in his holster.
‘Gidaado!’ screamed Sophie.
Gidaado peered round Sophie and waved his staff cheerily at the policeman. ‘UNCLE DEMBO!’ he bellowed. ‘WE’RE LATE FOR IBRAHIIM’S NAMING CEREMONY.’
The policeman’s stern face broke into a grin of recognition. ‘HURRY UP THEN, GIDA,’ he shouted in Fulfulde, ‘AND GIVE MY APOLOGIES TO IBRAHIIM! I AM ON DUTY ALL TODAY!’
On the outskirts of Gorom-Gorom a mobile phone mast was being erected, the first one in the whole province. A crowd of curious children stood at a safe distance and watched open-mouthed as workmen heaved on the mast’s tension cables.
The cattle market and the water tower flashed past and then the road came to an abrupt end. Chobbal galloped on eagerly into the sand. Looking back, Sophie saw the town’s enormous welcome sign written in French and Fulfulde:
BIENVENUE A GOROM-GOROM!
GOROM-GOROM WI’I BISMILLAHI!
Welcome to Gorom-Gorom, read Sophie, and she thought again of the sauterelles which were at that very moment on their way here. What could they be ? Gigantic carnivorous plants, perhaps. That would give her Dad something to study. He was in his fourth year of research here and still had not found anything truly spectacular. But, thought Sophie, one of the sauterelles would probably eat Dad alive before he could even set up his microscope.
Gidaado’s voice in Sophie’s ear interrupted these morbid thoughts. ‘See that big white rock?’ he shouted, pointing with his staff.
‘Yes,’ yelled Sophie.
‘That’s Tondiakara, where the magicians go at night to sacrifice chickens.’
‘Lovely!’
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