The crowd, which had been waiting since dawn, was now struggling to contain its restlessness: it was growing impatient, sighing, whistling; it now needed to see someone die. Abdel Karim could feel it. But he decided to let the drama continue, and the tension rise even further. Endings, to him, only reached the beauty of tragedy in such an atmosphere.
The waiting had begun early: after the Fajr prayer, long processions of shadows had formed—strange silhouettes suddenly filling the streets of Kalep, all converging toward the vast square of City Hall. There was something fascinating about that march; and this multitude moved forward, advanced, crept along—imposing, irresistible, slow—its movements like an ancient phalanx maneuvering. In a silence that held no poetry other than solemnity. A silence barely disturbed by the sound of slippers and sandals dragging over laterite or asphalt. Only from time to time did a voice—one could not tell whether it was a man’s or a woman’s—whisper:
“What time is it for?”
“For ten o’clock, in shaa Allah,” another voice would reply.
Then, silence would fall again.
The waiting had been long. Then Abdel Karim arrived in a car, followed by his men. He was a giant. Unlike his companions, he wore no turban: he moved forward with his face uncovered, offering his bald head to the intensity of the sun. He looked at the crowd, which, overexcited, was waiting for him to speak. He made a broad gesture with his hand, and silence became complete. His powerful voice rang out across the square:
“Audhu billahi mina-Shaitan-nir-Rajeem. By the will of God, may my words be pure and clothed in the light of truth and justice.”
“Amin,” came the murmur. The colossus continued:
“Salamu Aleikum, people of Kalep, I greet you. May the Lord shower you with His blessings for having all come out this morning. I will not be long. You know why I am here, and the time is near. I simply wished to remind you that whoever transgresses the fundamental Law of Allah, Subhanahu Wa Ta'ala, and of His Prophet, Mohamadu Rassululah…”