Pape Moussa closed his eyes tightly, his jaw clenched. Daniel could tell that his reasoning didn't sit well with him, but he also seemed utterly exhausted by this particular debate.
After all, he knew he couldn't change Daniel's mindset so easily.
"You need to eat some dust from time to time; it'd do you good," Pape Moussa spat, stretching his hands as he walked, weary.
"You think I've never failed in my life or what?" Daniel scoffed, tilting his head to look at him with an amused expression.
"No, I think you've never hit a wall beyond your abilities," Pape Moussa replied, his gaze slightly pensive, looking up at the sky.
"I don't think that'd change anything."
"I'd like to see that."
"Hmm."
A new silence settled between the two boys. The paved road was starting to blend with sand and gravel, and the few buses passing by were becoming increasingly rare.
The group approached a leftward fork, and the sound of music made them realize they were getting closer to the event's location. More and more people were heading in the same direction, the crowd growing denser as they moved forward. In the back of his mind, Daniel wondered why. After all, the diambars' ceremony hadn't been that popular since the Yeumbeul incident. It usually drew only a small crowd.
But Daniel didn't dwell on it too much. He simply walked calmly with his friends, hoping to find Jojo where they were headed.
"So…" Moussa resumed without warning, "you're choosing the thionganes for the exam?"
Daniel's gaze darkened.
"…I don't want my mom to suffer because of me."
Pape Moussa's eyes widened slightly before softening with understanding.
"I get it," he said, glancing distractedly at Jérôme and Ousmane, who were playing with sticks they'd picked up by the roadside, waving them like fencers. "I don't want my mom and dad to be sad either."
Pape Moussa didn't add anything more, letting a heavy silence weigh on Daniel's heart, a pain that made him want to cry despite the strength he always tried to project. Fiercely pushing away that feeling, he tried instead to shift to another topic tied to their future, one that wouldn't make him feel like crying.
"Personally, I'd rather be a thiongane than a ndimbelane."
"Seriously?" Pape Moussa said, incredulous. "You'd rather fight djinns than work peacefully inside the barrier?"
"Peaceful? I'm not so sure about that anymore," Daniel muttered doubtfully. "It's a risky job now too. Haven't you heard about those criminal organizations made up of chosen ones that have gained power since the djinn attacks?"
"Of course I've heard," Pape Moussa replied darkly. "You're talking about Guudi."
Daniel nodded gravely. "Guudi" was a criminal organization of unidentified chosen ones that had been around for over 15 years. According to rumors, they had enough recruits to form an army of their own, with loyalists even infiltrating the military.
It was anything but a cheerful topic, but Daniel preferred fear over sadness, personally.
"Their leader is supposedly called 'the King of Shadows,'" Daniel recalled, a finger on his lips as he thought. "Some even believe he's the real king from the legends because of his strength."
"Some say he even defeated two Paddaans in his early days," Pape Moussa added. "But that's just a rumor the military never confirmed. The only thing certain is that Guudi attacked a Dakar base, and 29 diambars died."
The Paddaans were the country's elite forces, ten in total, each commanding 100 special soldiers. The idea that two of them were defeated by a single person was terrifying.
"And the second group, something like 'M'Bour yi'…"
"'M'Bour bi,'" Daniel corrected. "They're more recent. Unlike the first group, they don't claim to have the king with them but are waiting for his arrival by plunging the country into chaos."
"I've never understood their deal," Pape Moussa said.
"Normal, they're lunatics, especially if they're waiting for the definition of the apocalypse angel."
"That's the problem," Pape Moussa emphasized. "They're lunatics, and that makes them too unpredictable."
Daniel let out a grunt to express his feelings.
"Anyway, being a ndimbelane is a risk factor now," he concluded. "Not to mention, if I got assigned to Casamance, I wouldn't survive with the rebels. And I'm not even talking about the recent riots that shook the country!"
Casamance had become an unsafe zone due to small-scale guerrilla wars for Diola independence. Daniel was half-Diola himself, so he didn't have a strong opinion on the matter and preferred not to think about it too much. But it seemed the royalty of Atemit's descendants was being questioned.
As for the recent riots… that was a very long story.
"Hey, are you guys talking about the riots?" Ousmane asked, overhearing them from behind.
"Mind your own damn business," Pape Moussa shot back sharply. "You don't understand anything anyway."
"Of course I do!" the 10-year-old retorted fiercely. "It's because the ndimbelanes are all jerks working for the government, and they want to ensave us all…"
"That's what I'm saying, you don't get it."
"And it's 'enslave,'" Daniel corrected, rolling his eyes.
"And," Pape Moussa added with a serious look, "you'd better not say that out loud. Where we're going, it's full of those ndimbelane jerks, and it's best not to provoke them lately."
"Pfft, they won't do anything," Ousmane bragged with a goofy smile.
"Abdou!" Daniel shouted toward the sturdy, shaved-headed boy already at the fork with Saliou and Jérôme. "Come save your little brother from his stupidity."
"We won't have much time to worry about that now," Daniel concluded as the ceremony's music grew louder. "We're already here."
His thoughts lingered one last time on the friend he hadn't forgotten.
I hope we find you there, Jojo.