The sky was truly resplendent blue today. Despite the barrier effect, we could see that only scattered clouds wandered far and wide, unable to block the scorching heat of the sun.
It was, all in all, a beautiful day despite the fact that they were in the middle of winter. This kind of day promised dreams of adventure and excitement in unknown places, the thrill of adventure and discovery. There was so much that her insatiable curiosity could devour to satiety, so much to learn while having fun. And was Jeanne taking advantage it? No. She had been sitting for almost 2 hours in the middle of a table full of old people, sheltered under a tarp, contemplating a most insignificant spectacle.
This is really not good. At this point, I'm going to start thinking it's better to die than to live such ennui.
And if there was one person who shouldn't have such thoughts, it was Jeanne. And the young girl inwardly mocked the thought, coming from that kind of dark humor that left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Being in the shade under a sunny sky seemed to her a constant metaphor of her life; it seemed to her that the light always taunted her from afar, without her ever being able to reach it. But Jeanne was never the type to give up on something she desired, even if it seemed out of reach.
Did she really desire the light? Or was she simply looking for warmth? Two things that could not coexist without the other, and two things that were simply incompatible for her.
Somewhere, in a world of dark energy, it seemed to her that an entity surrounded by a myriad of voices and faces stirred with amusement…
Jeanne immediately disturbed these melancholic thoughts and shook them off with a mixture of rage and vengeful humor.
Sorry for you, but we all know that today is not the day I will give up this life… There is still so much to discover… So, smile, idiot!
She was all alone on the path of darkness, her soul belonged to them, and her body would never again know the pleasant warmth of life. Jeanne knew it, and even so, smiled at this joke, trembling in this dark humor.
Smiling was her revenge, against the shadows that wanted to plunge her into the abyss; smiling was her only proof of being alive. So, she would smile at these sunny days that she would never feel again.
Jeanne then focused on the scene unfolding before her, even if it was, in itself, nothing very joyful.
Jeanne didn't really know how best to summarize the situation.
The Thiongane ceremony was an old tradition among the diambars, one of those that had endured over time, even if Jeanne suspected that it was not for pure and nostalgic reasons. It was specially made for the Thionganes to take office after their training, and is the only public military ceremony that exists in the country. It was a way for the people to admire their warriors and to see a demonstration of their strength; and it was a way for the Thionganes to hear some encouragement before a life of intense combat.
The Thiongane demonstration was mainly a sembou show where the warriors showed the extent of their talent in combat or in sembou techniques and spells. A barrier was placed in a circular perimeter to allow the population to watch without feeling the pressure that the difference in power can cause.
Except that over time the concept has been extended to such a degree that now all new recruits from the 4 main army corps have been introduced to it. The only thing the Thionganes kept from it was the location. Currently, all recruits from Keur Massar are distributed among one of the 3 Thiongane barracks in the area for this event. Over time, and due to multiple failures and deaths, the ceremony has lost its shine, and few people came to watch it. The reputation of the Thionganes had, it seemed, reached a point of no return. So the crowd that had gathered today was anything but a good sign, that was for sure.
Almost 20 minutes had passed since the beginning of the ceremony, and nothing could be said or done. The music could not mask the almost heavy and threatening atmosphere in the air. Keur Massar had suffered enough from the recent riots, both from the ndimbelanes and the population, and the relationship between them now rested on a fragile balance that could explode at any moment.
Jeanne clearly saw that the fear of a new riot was the concern of the ndimbelanes present; after all, although most of them were chosen ones, they were all restricted by the oath of the old order. They could not use force on civilians except in cases of disturbance that could alter public order or cause major problems; and even then, they were restricted in their force if the civilians were normal people.
I pity y'all, Jeanne thought, oaths are not easy.
The chosen ones accounted for roughly less than 1% of the total Senegalese population. Distributing them among the army corps and subjecting them to the various oaths inherent in each of them was barely a veiled attempt to control these superhuman forces. By accepting the oath, the diambar voluntarily chained himself as a sign of trust, and the population gave him its trust in return when he submitted.
And to override an oath, one had to be superior in one way or another to the contractor himself, and in this situation, the contractor was the country itself, and the multiple generations that had trodden it during the last 327 years. In principle, nothing was stronger than a nation.
Only in principle.
The ndimbelanes were therefore nothing less than normal people in this situation, and this until there was a threat that could disturb public order. And no one on either side felt like being the one to light the spark of conflict.
I feel like I'm looking at two porcelain dogs. What a shitty situation.
Jeanne's gaze lingered on the scene for a moment, scrutinizing the faces a little too tense for her taste. The vacant lot that served as a backyard had been fitted with tarpaulins in a rectangular structure covering most of the sandy area. ¾ of the field had been covered with tarpaulins to protect from the heat.
Across the width, there was the head table, composed of the 4 captains of the Keur Massar P.A. units; the captain of the ndimbelanes wore a dark blue military uniform striped with golden badges and medals. Slightly short-legged, with a smooth jaw and an impeccable shaved cut, he sat with the dignified posture of a high state official and his gaze was that of a proud and stern diambar. Yet Jeanne could see no combativeness, let alone an ounce of the strength he tried so hard to show in his gaze. And he contrasted drastically with his Thiongane colleague who had a more jovial air even if his slight smile was a little crooked, like a grimace.
The Thiongane captain had a classic dark green military ceremonial uniform; the number of medals on his chest was drastically lower than that of the ndimbelane captain. He was quite tall and his physiognomy was strange: he had a muscular build but he also gave the impression of having lost a lot of weight over the years. His face, moreover, was streaked with slight white marks testifying to a life of combat, sported hollow dimples and his lumberjack beard gave him a slightly neglected air despite the fact that it was impeccably trimmed. His shaved hair was streaked with white and gray, and Jeanne could not help but make a connection between his appearance and his age which contradicted each other. The Thiongane captain sat in a slightly relaxed manner while maintaining all the dignity of an officer, a glass of champagne in hand. And he smiled softly, the captain, he seemed to mock the atmosphere that reigned but his gaze seemed blurred by eternal shadows clinging to him, as if to attract his attention. Sitting right next to him, Jeanne was painfully aware of it.
Every time I see El Hadji again, the weight around him increases…
The young girl felt deeply annoyed by this fact; she would have liked to talk about it but she could not find the right words to convince the Thiongane captain. She had the impression that it was deliberate, that he was willingly inflicting such torture to himself.
Jeanne saw it from time to time, people who live only by regrets, who survive because they do not think they deserve death; people who seek to live a life of suffering, making death a deliverance. And Jeanne particularly hated this kind of life, because she saw no redemption in death.
There was no real redemption.
Jeanne had not refrained from telling him almost 3 years ago now. She remembered her accusatory tone, the painful emptiness in her heart as she cried out all her rage, all her pain and all her distress to someone who minimized her life so much, her precious life… And yet, Captain El Hadji's response had cut short her tirade.
_ If there is no redemption, then that's fine with me. I don't think I deserve it.
And his tone… was almost relieved, acknowledging. And even now Jeanne couldn't help but still feel angry thinking about it. Who would have thought he would probably be the closest person to her now…
Perhaps had he felt the young girl's gaze on him? Anyhow, the Thiongane captain had turned to Jeanne, an interrogative look on his face.
_ Can I help you?
_ No, it's nothing, don't worr…
Jeanne stopped for a moment before giving the captain a circumspect look.
_ Did… Did you just vousvoyer (talk formally with in french) me?
_ How could I not? El Hadji retorted, trying to hide his smile behind his glass, I couldn't address you otherwise, Esteemed Paddaan. You are now my hierarchical superior, and by far. It is an honor to receive you in my humble barracks.
Jeanne contemplated the captain for a long time, sincerely wondering if she should respond to her urgent desire to kill him. She pondered for a few seconds, her expression indecipherable, before opting for a different but equally lethal approach in her own way.
_ Yes, you are right, Captain Gueye – Jeanne particularly insisted on this point – I am your hierarchical superior now.
_ Yes, exactly, the captain agreed, a little troubled to see Jeanne playing along so easily.
_ So you must obey my orders?
_ Uh, that's not really how it works, Captain Gueye retorted, his smile slightly diminishing.
_ But you must still take into consideration the orders I give, especially if they are outside the scope of the Thiongane army corps.
_ … That's not wrong.
_ So, could I ask you to stop drinking so much during such a prestigious ceremony?
The captain's gaze blurred slightly before gently following the curve of his arm to stop at the champagne glass clutched in his hand. His gaze filled with confusion stopped on Jeanne once again, as if to judge whether she was joking or not, so the young girl decided to shatter all illusion.
_ Think about the image you project of the Thionganes, Captain, Jeanne continued, her tone dangerously sweet. It would be wise not to show yourself in such an unflattering light.
The captain stifled a slight chuckle, semi-amused, semi-cautious.
_ I understand your reasoning, esteemed Paddaan, but I must remind you that this amount of alcohol cannot affect me…
_ It's not the action that alcohol has on you that I'm questioning again, Jeanne cut in, playing with the officer's nerves, but the image you project again. Look, you're on your 3rd bottle. The head table will be empty at this stage.
Jeanne and Captain Gueye turned together to look at the 2 empty champagne bottles and the 3rd which was already 2/3 empty before looking at each other. Jeanne couldn't help but smile mockingly when the realization that he had no escape dawned on El Hadji's features. She could almost read the phrase: "Are you really serious?" floating in translucent letters just above his head.
To her left, Jeanne could feel the Loucar captain secretly chuckling, the trembling of his shoulders being the only indication of the fact. Next to him, dressed in a burgundy red uniform, the Ngallan captain of Keur Massar P. A. was only interested in his phone, teeth clenched, muttering into his beard. He had a neutral, almost ordinary appearance and enormous dark circles surrounded his drooping eyes.
He was easily forgettable, and yet he was much more remarkable than the man in the black military uniform sitting at the very end of the table on the right. Jeanne was perhaps the only one to pay so much attention to his presence, because she knew that, even if he didn't really show it, all his attention was fixed on her and only her. However, she decided to completely put this mood killer aside in a dark corner of her mind to focus on the Thiongane captain.
El Hadji sighed, then put down his glass with his slightly trembling hands.
_ Okay, okay, he capitulated, you win.
_ You're using 'tu' ( talk informally, with a familiar tone) with me now, Captain?
_ Okay, okay, I apologize. Jeez, the young lady is really in a bad mood…
Captain Gueye leaned gently back in his chair and raised his head to contemplate the top of the tent, the golden lights dancing on the surface.
_ Is it my fault?
The question cooled the little ardor Jeanne had. Her obsidian black pupils apathetically moved and analyzed the captain's slightly scarred profile for a long time.
_ … I wanted to come, did you forget? Jeanne replied, dropping the joke. I insisted on coming; take it as one way among others to show my support for your future promotion.
Captain Gueye burst out laughing.
_ It is not said that I will be the next commander…
_ And I tell you that you will have all my support, Jeanne repeated with annoyance, might as well take advantage of this rank now that I have it.
_ Ha ha, it's… reassuring, even if you don't have to. And besides, I wasn't really talking about the ceremony itself…
_ Hmmm? … Jeanne said, inwardly trying to distill her boredom.
_ Have they increased since last time?
Jeanne felt the good old ball in the pit of her stomach move uncomfortably inside her.
You really have a skill for needlessly annoying people, El Hadji. Did you need to bring up the subject?
Normally, Jeanne would have no trouble bluntly and dispassionately stating the most unpleasant and cruel truths. However, this truth particularly annoyed her, because it escaped her understanding. However, like everything else, her frustration slowly melted away to give only an impression, and Jeanne sighed.
_ Yeah, she replied, turning her attention back to the ceremony which finally seemed to be starting – she felt the ndimbelane captain stand up but didn't deign to turn her head – there are so many of them that I can't count them anymore.
Jeanne left a moment of silence as the music from the loudspeakers faded.
_ I pity these poor souls. Even in death, they seek responsibility and reason where there is none.