Dave Eggers - What Is The What

I was running to my father's shop, through the market's thick Saturday crowd. On Saturday the trucks arrived from over the river, and the marketplace doubled with traders and activity. The shoppers came from all over the region; Marial Bai's market was one of the largest within a hundred miles, and so drew far-flung commerce. When I reached my father's store, running as usual at my top speed, I almost collided with the great, unblemished white tunic of Sadiq Aziz.

— Where have you been today? my father said.-Say hello to Sadiq.

Sadiq's hand descended onto the crown of my head, and he let it rest there. Sadiq was of the Baggara, an Arab tribe that lived on the other side of the Ghazal. The Arabs were seen during market days and during the dry season, when they came down to graze their cattle. There had been centuries of tension between the Dinka and the Baggara, largely over grazing lands. The Baggara needed the more fertile southern soil to graze their cattle when the earth of the north cracked with drought. Arrangements were generally made between chiefs, and cooperation had been managed historically through alliances and payments of cattle and other goods. There was balance. During the cattle season, and often on market days, there were Baggara and other Arabs everywhere in Marial Bai. They moved freely among the Dinka, speaking a jumbled mix of Dinka and Arabic, often staying in Dinka homes. There were very good relations between the majority of their people and ours. In many areas there was intermarriage, there was cooperation and mutual respect.

My father was popular among the Baggara and other Arab businessmen; he was known to go out of his way, sometimes comically so, to court and please the Arab traders. He knew that his own success was due in large part to his access to the merchandise in which the northerners specialized, and so he was ever eager that the Arabs knew they were welcome in his shops and homes. Sadiq Aziz, a tall man with large eyes and arms twisted with bone and ropy muscle, was my father's favorite trading partner. Sadiq had an eye for unusual things, could find the most exceptional goods: mechanized farm tools, sewing machines, fishing nets, athletic shoes manufactured in China. More important, Sadiq usually brought something for me.

— Hello, uncle, I said. It is customary to call an older man uncle , as a term of familiarity and respect. If the man is older than one's father, he is called father .

Sadiq raised his eyebrows conspiratorially and retrieved something from his bag. He tossed it in the air to me and I caught it before I knew what it was. I opened my hands upon some kind of gem. It looked like glass, but inside were radial stripes, yellow and black, like the eye of a cat. It was so beautiful. My eyes watered as I stood, staring at it. I was afraid to blink.

— It's made to look like a gem, Sadiq admitted, — but it's made of glass. He winked at my father.

— It's like a star! I said.

— Say that in Arabic, Sadiq said.

Sadiq knew I had been learning basic Arabic in school, and he often tested me. I tried to answer.-Biga ze gamar, I stammered.

— Very good! Sadiq said, smiling.-You're the smartest of Deng's sons! I can say that because the rest of them are not here at present. Now say Allah Akhbar . My father laughed.-Sadiq. Please.

— You believe God is great, don't you, Deng?

— Of course I do, my father said.-But please.

Sadiq stared at my father for a long moment and then brightened.

— I'm sorry. I was only joking.

He reached for my father's hand and held it loosely.

— So, he asked.-Can I put Achak on the horse now? Both men looked down to me.

— Of course, my father said.-Achak, would you like that?

My mother had said Sadiq knew intuitively what a boy likes and wants, because each time he visited, he brought me gifts, and, as long as my mother was not close enough to disapprove, for she did disapprove, he lifted me onto the high saddle of his horse, tied just outside the shop.

— There you are, little horseman. I looked down at the men.

— He looks very natural up there, Deng.

— I think he looks very afraid, Sadiq.

Though the two men laughed, I barely heard them.

Atop the saddle, my first thought was of power. I was taller than my father, taller than Sadiq, and certainly taller than any boys my age. On the horse I felt fully grown and adopted an imperious look. I could see over the fences of our neighbors and could see as far as the school and could spot a lizard at eye level, scuttling across our rooftop. I was enormous, I was the combination of myself and the animal I could control. My grand thoughts were interrupted by the teeth of the horse, which had found my leg.

— Sadiq! my father yelled. He lunged, grabbed me and removed me from the saddle.-What the hell's wrong with that animal?

Sadiq stammered.-She never does that, he said, seeming genuinely puzzled.-I'm so sorry. Are you okay, Achak?

I looked up and nodded, hiding my trembling hands. Sadiq assessed me.

— That's my fierce boy! Sadiq said, again resting his hand on my head.

— I knew this was a bad idea, my father said.-The Dinka are not horse people. I stared into the eyes of the horse. I hated that accursed animal.

— Plenty of Dinka have ridden horses, Deng. Wouldn't it be good if Achak here could learn? It would only make him more appealing in the eyes of the girls. Wouldn't it, Achak?

This made my father laugh, breaking the tension.-I don't think he needs help in that area, my father said.

They both roared now, looking down at me. I continued to stare at the horse, and found, to my mild surprise, my anger already gone.

I ate with the men that night, a dozen or so merchants at my father's compound, all of them circled near the fire. I knew a few of the men from the shops but many were new to me. There were other Baggara among the guests, but I stayed close to Sadiq, my foot resting on his leather sandal. The conversation had concerned the price of maize, and raids of cattle by certain Baggara groups north of Marial Bai. It was generally agreed that the regional courts, on which sat representatives of the Baggara, the Dinka, and the government in Khartoum, would settle the matter. For a time, the men ate and drank, and then a Dinka man across from my father, a large wide-grinning man younger than the rest, spoke.

— Deng, you don't worry about this business of the insurrection?

He said this with a brilliant smile; it seemed to be his default expression.

— No, no, my father said.-Not this time. I was part of the last rebellion, as some of you know. But this new one, I don't know.

There were murmurs of approval from the rest of the men, who seemed eager to have the matter settled. But the grinning man persisted.

— But they're in Ethiopia now, Deng. It seems like something is brewing. Again he smiled.

— No, no, my father said. He waved the back of his hand at the young man, but it seemed more theatrical than convincing.

— They have the support of the Ethiopians, the grinning man added.

This seemed to surprise my father. It was not often that I saw my father learning something before my eyes. Sadiq threw a piece from his stew to one of the goats on the perimeter of the compound and then addressed the young man.

— You think, what, twenty deserters from the Sudanese army are going to come back and make Sudan a Communist nation? That's madness. The government of Sudan would crush Ethiopia. And they'll crush any little insurrection.

— I don't dispute that the deserters would lose, the young man said.-But I don't see a great love of Khartoum in Dinkaland. They could gain some support.

— Never, said Sadiq.

— Not this time, my father added.-We know the cost of that. Of civil war. We do that again and we'll never recover. That would be the end.