Gifts

Начало книги

In writing this novel I have incurred many debts, the most important of which is owed to Marcel Mauss, author of The Gift, translated into English by I. Cunison. I am also indebted to many friends, including Paul Doornbos, Professor Mohamed Omar Beshir of Khartoum University, and Dr. Mechthild Reh: to whom my thanks.

In which Duniya sees the outlines of a story emerging from the mist surrounding her, as the outside world impinges on her space and thoughts.

Duniya had been awake for a while, conscious of the approaching dawn. She had dreamt of a restless butterfly; of a cat waiting attentively for the fretful insect’s shadow to stay still for an instant so as to pounce on it. Then the dark room lit up with the brightness of fireflies, agitated breaths of light, soft, quiet as foam. Faint from heat, Duniya watched the goings-on, supine. The butterfly flew here and there, movements mesmeric in its circling rainbow of colours. As if hypnotized, the cat’s eyes closed slowly, dramatically, and it fell asleep.

Читать дальше →