The Sin: (A Novel)

CONTENTS

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

To my mother AWA Koné,

a woman so sweet, humble and tolerant.

Any resemblance to real persons living or dead

is purely coincidental.

PREFACE

It’s very young, precisely at the age of twenty-two that I started writing my first manuscript. I began to realize that this was perhaps not a coincidence when my high school friends nicknamed me the future writer.

Maybe not because I was only a brilliant student in literature, but also because I am the nephew of the famous writer Amadou Koné.

I honestly think my writing career was born thanks to the influence of my uncle Amadou Koné. Also, it fascinated me every time we would visit Ayamé.

When I started reading the works of my uncle at the age of eighteen, I inwardly thought that I had to follow in his footsteps. I was not only influenced by the charisma of the personality Amadou Koné, but also the quality, richness of his works as Les Frasques d’Ebinto/ The escapades of Ebinto/, Le Respect Des Morts/ Respect for the dead/, until the threshold of the unreal, Links, Ivorian Earth…

My work, THE SIN, written in a simple and insightful style, wants a universal story. It depicts with firmness human beings difficulties and the world they are faced to. I mentioned prostitution, the high cost of living, insecurity, corruption, global warming, poverty, anarchy…

Finally, I would modestly be seen not only as a political writer, but also as a pessimistic writer. That is to say, an author who portrayed emphatically the most miserable aspects of social life.

Seydou Koné.

CHAPTER 1

Lying on his bed, listening to the crackling Bamba drops of water that fell upon the roof of his room. The rain became more and more violent. Outside, it reigned supreme. All students had fled the yard of the internship to take refuge in their respective dormitories. As it continued to rain heavily, Bamba took off his khaki school to plunge into a deep sleep.

Baro Yacou, the roommate of Bamba, was someone unconscious.

Indeed, away from his parents and living in boarding Abadoukro, Baro Yacou was never early at school; he was truant. So he was become a night owl who did not sleep almost nightly. While his fellow boarding cared for their final examination year are seriously engaged in school, Baro Yacou took the maximum pleasure to visit in the late hours bandjidromes/bistros where people drink palm wine/, brothels located in the city of Abadoukro at very late hours.

In a few months, he became the student the best known and most spectacular of all the boarding for its nightlife.

Suddenly awakened by the sound of his clock, Bamba headed for the shower to make his ablutions. It was five thirty in the morning. Bamba was certainly a student worker, but also a devout Muslim. Every day, it was the five prayers regularly. During his free time, he read the Holy Quran extensively. He does not drink alcohol and hated cigarettes.

Stopped on the prayer mat, we heard Allah Akbar constantly out of his mouth. He carried on as and genuflections in accordance with the Surat and ardent faith.

Bamba rushed to the showers boarding. These five showers were all occupied. He had to queue. In other words, he had to put in place, and wait his turn before going to wash.

In the row, it ranked tenth. Unlike the others, he was less concerned because he had during nine o’clock in the morning.

Tired to stop the majority of students left the place, taking care to be replaced by their different network and to avoid unnecessary disputes.

Voices were raised gradually as time went on. Sometimes you hear voices of distress Comrades, hurry up a bit! I have class at half past seven. I might be late to school or Please, we are many. Hurry up, for God’s sake!

Bamba had just completed his toilet. He put his school clothes. As the school was removed from the boarding school, he took the usual way by walking slowly. Bamba did not like the neighborhood Sokoura. He was strange in the city of Abadoukro.

Unlike other modern areas of the city, was a precarious Sokoura neighborhood. There, was almost nothing. No street was paved. Water issues exasperated residents. Also too much misery of people had it forced many of them to make connections anarchic power to give light at night, the dirty streets of the slum.

What shocked the most was the multitude of mud houses. Almost all the houses were built Sokoura with earth and straw. The few brick houses belonged to affluent locals.

Bamba could not understand a neighborhood, even very poor, does not have infrastructure. That is to say, paved roads, a hospital, a cinema…

He went out of his neighborhood.

He now walked on the main floor of Abadoukro. It was probably one of the few paved roads leading to the town located twenty kilometers Abadoukro.

Bamba crossed the wide road with caution. He went down in a shallow. Before reaching the fine bridge. Bamba was always amazed every time he passed on the concrete bridge. At the height of about fifteen meters, the concrete bridge dominated the coastal river Beho which flows through the cities Abadoukro and Adayou.

Bamba, walking on the bridge of fifty meters with insurance, said that this bridge was built to join the neighborhoods Sokoura and Panan Panan. The young student was finishing meters of walking.

Because of that there were serious in studies and especially the rigor of faculty, Cathedral High School was a school of excellence in the past. Maintained, excellence and rigor had given way to cheating, licentiousness and prostitution of some students and schoolgirls.

Bamba vigorously entered inside the school. The classes were packed with students. By far-off, the teachers could be seen in different classrooms, trying to transmit knowledge to students. Without slender Bamba headed the third form of secondary school. The room was half full. Conscientious, some students reread their different lessons before the arrival of the teacher. By cons, and other mostly girls liked to disparage their friends.

Mr. Amsan entered the classroom. He was the French teacher. By way of respect, the students stood up and then sat down.

Mr. Amsan was a man approaching the forties. He was humble and respectful. It was also a brilliant teacher of French, perhaps the most brilliant of all the teachers of French Cathedral High School.

What impressed most Bamba is that teacher; Mr. Amsan refused the advances made to him by his high school students. In other words, he was one of the few teachers who refused to have sexual contact with schoolgirls. He wanted at all costs to uphold, preserve his authority.

The course began and focused on a text Ivorian prolific writer Amadou Koné.

Mr. Amsan told often to his students that he had to literature teacher Amadou Koné. He never tired in the presence of his students to decipher life, school and university career of one of the great African writers, Amadou Koné.

In the process, a student raised his right hand and began to question Mr. Amsan:

Sir, please, why are you so dealing with Amadou Kone?

- It’s simple, my students. First, this great man taught me literature at the National University of Cote d’Ivoire. Secondly, there must be a model for all African youth.

Sir, that is to say what, exactly?

- I think you are very talented, my student. You can ask me very understandable questions.

I said Amadou Kone should be a model for all African youth. Know that wrote The Ebinto escapades before the age of seventeen. He earned his doctorate in modern letters before the age of thirty. Briefly, I want to tell you that you could succeed, prove yourself and take your studies seriously, persevere in all that you do…

The ringing of the school rang suddenly; It was time! The schoolyard suddenly became deafening. Situated right behind the classrooms, the pergola full of people. There, pieces of bread, cakes and juices were uprooted by the students. As usual, comic vendors were constantly around their products to attract more hesitant.

Sitting under a tree, not far from the small market Bamba scroll saw in his head all the advice given by Mr. Amsan. Bamba him, had perhaps not the same intellectual capacity Amadou Koné. But one thing reassured him: he knew he was going to get a place in the sun or have a decent job in the near future.

It was Saturday night and was falling slowly Sokoura. It was exactly eighteen hours. The boarding school, once quiet, turned into an anthill all weekend.

Everywhere we hear good music from Côte d’Ivoire, mainly music Zouglou/a kind of dance in cote d ivoire/.

Chubby, charming and seductive girls boarding wearing provocative clothing to attract men in hot corners Abadoukro. The boarding school was full of beautiful girls comparable to angels.

Sitting at his doorstep, Bamba watching the actions of his comrades. Sometimes, he did not hesitate to ask questions Kyrielles: where his comrades went every Saturday? What were they doing out of the boarding every weekend?

Very seductive, Baro Yacou was superbly dressed that night. Indeed, he was dressed in black trousers and a beautiful blue shirt. He wore a pair of black shoes. Baro Yacou was his neighbor Bamba very strange and bizarre. It never interested in the necessities of life, that is to say, sex and alcohol. However, he spent hours studying his lessons. And when he was not studying, he indulged in one of his passions: reading.

1. Zouglou: urban dance born in the halls of Ivory Coast by a group of students.

That Saturday, twenty-two hours, the internship was like a cemetery as it was peaceful.

Sitting in bed, Bamba read a novel with passion of his favorite author, Amadou Koné. What impressed with this author, it was his simplistic style, especially the quotations in his works.

Tired and lay in bed, Bamba was awakened by the sound of the door. There was someone who typed. When he looked at his watch, it was exactly three o’clock in the morning. He walked to the door and opened it. It was Kangah Sarah.

- Neighbor, I’m sorry to bother you. I return to the city. I…