II

The young woman known as Izubahil was washing clothes in the Niger with
the rest but slightly on the outskirts of the chattering group of women,
which was fitting since she was both a comparative stranger and as yet
unselected by any man to grace his household. Which, in a way, was
passingly strange since she was comely enough. Clad as the rest with
naught but a wrap of colored cloth about her hips, her face and figure
were openly to be seen. Her complexion was not quite so dark as most.
She came from up-river, so she said, the area of the Songhoi, but by the
looks of her there was more than average Arab or Berber blood in her
veins. Her lips and nose were thinner than those of her neighbors.

Yes, it was strange that no man had taken her, though it was said that
in her shyness she repulsed any advances made by either the young men,
or their wealthier elders who could afford more than one wife. She was a
nothing-woman, really, come out of the desert alone, and without
relatives to protect her interests, but still she repulsed the advances
of those who would honor her with a place in their house, or tent.

She had come out of the desert, it was known, with her handful of
possessions done up in a packet, and had quietly and unobtrusively taken
her place in the Negro community of Gao. Little better than a slave or
Gabibi serf, she made her meager living doing small tasks for the
better-off members of the community.

But she knew her place, was dutifully shy and quiet spoken, and in the
town or in the presence of men, wore her haik and veil. Yes, it was
passing strange that she found no man. On the face of it, she was
getting no younger, surely she must be into her twenties.

Up to their knees in the waters of the Niger, out beyond the point where
the dugout canoes were pulled up to the bank, their ends resting on the
shore, they pounded their laundry. Laughing, chattering, gossiping. Life
was perhaps poor, but still life was good.

Someone pretended to see a crocodile and there was a wild scampering for
the shore. And then high laughter when the jest was revealed. Actually,
all the time they had known it a jest, since it was their most popular
one--there were seldom crocodiles this far north in the Niger bend.

There was a stir as two men dressed in the clothes of the Rouma
approached the river bank. It was not forbidden, but good manners called
for males to refrain from this area while the woman bathed