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Trois Femmes puissantes

Author Marie Ndiaye
Translator Marie Tawk
Publish Year
ISBN 9789948234012
Price AED 85
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She could hear the bullets around her and the cries of pain and anxiety, not knowing if she was screaming like them or if it was her own pulse in her head drowning her in this constant wailing. She wanted to go upward too. She remembered that the boy told her that she must not stop for anything at all, to go upward before they reach the top of the fence, but the barbed wire was pulling at the skin of her hands and feet and she could hear her screams and feel the blood dripping on her arms and shoulders, saying to herself that she would never stop going upward, never, repeating the words without even understanding them. But her strength failed her and she lost her grip, falling backwards softly. She thought that the essence of Khadi Damba was that she was less than a wisp, a gift from the air, not touching the ground, floating forever, amazing, winged so as never to be crushed in the dazzling brightness of the frosty headlamp.
I am Khadi Damba, she thought the moment her head hit the ground, with her open eyes open wide, that she was slowly walking behind the barbed wire with two long gray wings. 
I am Khadi Damba, she thought in the brightness of this transfiguration, knowing that she was that bird and that the bird knew it.