11
At the first premonition of dawn, Aypi’s ghost floated down from above and into the winding, dishevelled streets. As the sun rose in the sky to the height of a spear, the village, as it always did, came to life. Like sturgeon in shallow water, people went back and forth leaving wakes behind them.
Mered Badaly, smoking his after-breakfast pipe, was walking along the street when Aypi flew up to him and rasped in his ear:
“Men are dishonourable cowards! They play a crooked game and repress their wives!”
Mered Badaly started and peered around, then cleaned his ear out with his thumb. She wanted to speak and be heard, so she cried mockingly into the old fellow’s ear, “Woman: the head! Man: the feet!”
He stopped short and looked around again. “What in the world?” he said to himself. “If
