The man got up, enraged. He had on the weirdest underpants. He rushed Dad and couldn’t find him. He rushed again and stunned him with a flurry of solid punches. They slogged it out for ten minutes. Dad kept hitting him, but he wouldn’t fall. The man caught Dad with an upper cut and rocked his head.

‘Punch his chest, Black Tyger!’ Ade screamed.

Dad paid no attention. His exhaustion had returned. He puffed, he weaved, his punches had no power. Theman began thelongarcofafearfulswingingpunchwhen the wind blew, shaking the tent, and the lights suddenly went out. They came back on again and the man stood disorientated, hand in the air. Dad, calling on his own name, charging his Own spirit, released one of the most destructive punches I’ve ever seen and sent the man flying right through the tent. Tables, plates, and fried meat, crashed around him. Dad stood, weaving, bobbing, waiting. We all waited for the man to get up. He didn’t. The prostitutes tried to resuscitate him, but he couldn’t move. They couldn’t carry him either. We heard them saying something about him being too heavy. His inert form remained outside the tent, in an outer darkness. We never saw him again.

Sami rushed into the middle of the arena and declared Dad the winner of the contest. The inhabitants of the area, who had been outside looking in, surrounded Dad. The beggar girl, me, and Ade kept touching him, wiping the great flow of sweat from his body. Overcome with the horror of his victory, and with fatigue, Dad sank to the ground. We tried to revive him, but we couldn’t. No one else came to help us.

While all this was happening the blind old man had found his way from the forest and back into the tent. He was raving about wizards and bony demon children. He ran one way, then another. His helpers tried to restrain him but he threw them off. His rage was frightful.

We tried to get Dad to stand up. He was out cold. The beggar girl got the other beggars to comeand help. WhileweweretryingtoreviveDadtheblindoldmankept pursuing me round the tent. No one could control him. I ran under the tables. I threw things at him, but he pressed on, he followed me with nightmarish persistence. I ran back to Dad, tried to wake him, but the old man came at me like a demonic sleepwalker, his hands stretched out in front of him. Then suddenly he turned away from me and with the quick movement of a snake striking an unsuspecting prey, he grabbed hold of Ade and wouldn’t let go.

‘Ah ha, so it’s you, theflyingwizard!’ heshouted triumphantly.

Ade screamed. I clubbed the old man. His helpers rained knocks on me. I threw bones and sticks at them. Then the old man, tightening his grip on Ade’s arm said, in a screeching ugly voice:

‘Let me see with your eyes!’

Thestrangest thinghappened. Adebegan to twist, to jerk, contortingin spasms. His eyes swam around their sockets till only the whites were visible. He opened his mouth, his tonguehungout, and hegasped, and madechokingnoises.Peopletriedto free Ade from the old man’s grip. I jumped on his back and he shouted.

‘Get off my back!’

‘Leave my friend alone,’ I said.

‘You’re too heavy, you spirit-child!’ he cried.

I bounced on his back, his bones digging into me. I hooked my arms round his neck and tried to strangle him, but he kept tossing. I attempted to scratch his eyes, but he bit me and threw me off with the strength of five men and I heard his neck creak and was sent flying and when I landed amongst broken tables and the mess of fruits and bean-cakes, everything had cleared. The old man stood, swaying. Ade jerked in a weird epileptic fit. The crowd had mostly gone. Madame Koto was nowhere around. Theloudspeakers hadbeenpackedaway.Theprostitutessatonfoldingchairs,glaring at us. The old man picked up his yellow glasses and played on his harmonica. His helpers led him away. I got up. The beggars, Sami and his protectors, people from the area, and Helen lifted Dad up on their shoulders as if he were a king fallen in battle and carried him out into the night. I helped Ade up. He stood, twitching, his mouth feverish. His fit had receded and he walked as if his legs were made of rubber. As we left the devastated tent the prostitutes abused us. I heard the blind old man’s dissonant harmonica in front of us in the dark. We were at the rear of the procession that bore Dad on their shoulders. He faced the stars. And, as we went the sound of the flapping tent made me look back.

The wind had risen. I realised that the party had blocked the road. The cars were leaving. The trees creaked their limbs. The anti-music of the harmonica faded into the wind, blowing eerie harmonies over the bushes. The wind’s counterpoints whistled along the electric cables. The bright yellow and blue bulbs kept going on and off. Then they stayed on. Ade said, in the voice of a cat:

‘Somethingis happening.’

The wind stopped. It swelled again. Then I saw the tent tilt sideways, and lift up in the air. It rose, it turned on its side, and the wind hurled it over the houses, its voluminous cloth flapping, its form billowing, and it blew over, turning on rooftops, and the sky cracked, two lights flashed, and rain swept down. The rain poured down, the earth swam in mud, dogs barked, the smell of burning rubber filled the air, and we heardabriefrendingcry fromMadameKoto’splace.Thenallthelightswentout.

NINE

THE DARKNESS WAS full of voices. The beggars and Sami carried Dad to the house. When we got to our room Mum was in a frenzy. They laid Dad out on the bed and covered him with a white cloth. The people were gone, but I could hear them singing low heroic melodies down the street. Dad’s mouth was twisted. There was a white scar down the side of his face. His eyes had disappeared beneath his bruises. His lips were like swollen flowers. He was in a far worse condition than in all of his fights put together. He didn’t move. He didn’t even seem to breathe. Mum kept wailing. The beggar girl lit three more candles. Sami sat on Dad’s chair. The beggars sat on the floor. I made Ade lie down on my mat. Apart from Mum, everyone was silent.

Mum rushed out, boiled water, came back, and applied warm compresses to Dad’s face. It never occurred to her that his bruises needed something cold. The beggar girl stroked his feet. No one else moved. After a while Mum rested. She looked round at all of us.

‘Get up from my husband’s chair!’ she shouted at Sami. He jumped up as if a snake had bitten him. He stood near the window. Then he came to me and whispered: ‘When he has recovered, call me. I have all the money. I will get him the best herbalist.’ Then, as if he had been caught stealing, he crept out of the room. ‘And all of you, go!’ Mum screamed, at everyone else. The beggars shuffled. The beggar girl got up, touched me on the head, making my flesh bristle, and led the others out of the room. They left silently. Ade lay down on the mat, his eyes swimming. Occasionally he twitched. He had a wan smile on his lips. I leant over him.

‘I am going to die soon,’ he said.‘Why do you say that?’‘My timehascome.My friendsarecallingme.’‘Whatfriends?’‘In the other world,’ he said. We were silent.‘And what areyou two whisperingabout, eh?’ Mumasked.‘Nothing.’‘What happened to him?’‘He’s not well.’‘What about his father?’‘I don’t know.’‘God save me,’ Mum cried.The candles went out. Mum shut the door and searched for the matches.‘This life! No rest. None. A woman suffers, a woman sweats, with no rest, no happiness.My husband,inthreefights.Godknowswhatallthisisdoingtohisbrain. This lifeis too much for me. I amgoingto hangmyself oneof thesedays,’ Mumsaid. ‘Don’t do that, Mum,’ I said. ‘Shut up,’ she said. I was silent. Deep in me old songs began to stir. Old voices from the world of spirits. Songs of seductive purity, with music perfect like light and diamonds. Ade twitched. The floor began to shake. I could hear his bones rattling. Mum lit a candle. Shesat on Dad’s chair, rockingback and forth, her eyes fixed, her faceunforgiving. I feltsad.Adesmiledstrangely again,sinkingdeeperintohisweirdepilepticecstasy.I leant over him.