Hers is the joy of an animal reuniting with its own kindred, and Cambara assumes her body into that of a tigress, keen-eyed, fast of pace. She takes the first few strides with incredible agility and speed, silently moving toward the front row. Kiin, in the meanwhile, is almost on top of her, holding her back, whispering to her that she is disturbing the audience. Kiin says to Cambara, “Later, later. Take hold of yourself and calm down. There is time yet; there is time yet.”
Disregarding, Cambara moves impulsively toward the woman in the front row, not in the least clear in her mind what she will do when she finally gets to her: whether she will embrace her, welcome her, tell her how happy she is that she has made it to the opening night. But Cambara can’t go farther, because the aisle is blocked off, with rows and rows of spectators having placed their chairs in a haphazard manner.
Several members of the audience request that she take a seat. Of course, they have no idea who she is, or why she is behaving this way, but it is obvious to them that she is disturbing their enjoyment, creating a racket and moving about as though she is mad. At least one of them believes that she is insane.
Eventually, Kiin leads her out of the hall, down the stone stairway, where they sit and she serves Cambara a hot drink. “I just wanted to say hello to her, tell her how pleased I am that she is at the opening of my first play ever.”
At the end of the performance, which is universally described as a success, Cambara and her mother meet, and the two of them spend their first night together on the family property, joyous to sleep there and talk until the small hours of dawn.
A few days later, Arda gives a private party for everyone who has been sweet to or supportive of her daughter. Then Bile has a private audience with Arda, but no one gets to hear what the two have said to each other.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is a work of fiction, set against the background of events that took place in Mogadiscio. The characters in the novel and the incidents narrated in it are, however, products of my imagination. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
In writing Knots, I have incurred many debts, some with people whom I am, sadly, unable to acknowledge, because I no longer recall their names or have never known them, and others with acquaintances and friends I met in Somalia, whose names I have decided not to mention out of consideration for their safety. I owe immeasurable gratitude to all of these people for helping me get a grip on certain aspects of the civil war in that country. I have made judicious analyses of what I learned during my research trips to Mogadiscio, and I remain responsible for the spin I have put on what they told me.
In addition, I would like to give a nod of thanks to my very good Milanese friends Edoardo Lugarini, Daniela Bertocchi, and Chiara (my godchild) for lending me their second home in the hamlet of San Sebastiano in Piedmont; to Jean-Christophe Belliard; to my hosts at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales in Paris, namely Michel Agier, Eloi Ficquet, and Maria Benedicta Basto; and to Clemens Zobel. Paris, in the spring, is very inspiring: Merci!
Among the many texts I have read, consulted, and borrowed from are Carlo Collodi’s Pinocchio, in the translation of Nicolas J. Perella, who also wrote the introduction and notes (The Adventures of Pinocchio, University of California Press, 1986); Daniel McNeill’s The Face: A Guided Tour (Hamish Hamilton, 1998); Martha Roth’s Arousaclass="underline" Bodies & Pleasures (Milkweed, 1998); Fatima Mernissi, The Veil and the Male Elite (Addison-Wesley, 1991); Peter Junge’s Arte da Africa: Obras-Primas do Museu Etnologico de Berlim (the catalogue for an exhibition held in Rio di Janeiro in 2003–2004); and David C. Lohff’s Cyclopedia of Dreams (Running Press, 2000); and Robert Green’s The 48 Laws of Power (Viking, 1998). My special gratitude to Ama Ata Aidoo for sending me, in electronic format, her The Eagle and the Chickens (Baobab Books, Harare, Zimbabwe); and to Christopher Gregorowski for his “retelling” of an African tale Fly, Eagle, Fly, illustrated by Nick Daly and with an introduction by Desmond Tutu (Tafelberg, 2000; the tale, in its written form, is attributed to James Kwegyir Aggrey, aka Aggrey of Africa). And finally, thanks to Our Dialogue, at http://www.ourdialogue.com/vl.htm.