One afternoon a bread truck came through our part of the village. It was one of the white trucks with loaves of bread painted on the sides like I’d photographed parked outside the Basse ice cream parlor. Adama forgot about braiding my hair in order to dash over and beg for bread. The truck had stopped up the road from us and I could see people walking over from all directions to buy bread.
When the truck started moving again, passing us and then stopping across from the alkalo’s compound, Cherno told me he wanted to sit on the ground. “If they see I am not well, they will give me bread.”
He attempted to get out of the chair.
“Careful, Cherno! Don’t fall!”
“If I fall, they will give me bread.”
“But if you fall, your whole body will hurt.”
Disappointed by this logic, he slumped back in the chair.
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