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round, and took it in with a fine dose of the dust coming in through the window, cracked open because of the heat.
    â€œTo someone like you,” the Major started up again, “we’re all nuts, we’re ranting mad. You probably think we’re all fighting over nothing of great importance. You’ll say, ‘Look, your country is in ruins, and you keep fighting over nothing.’ Those of us who’ve stayed on and participated in warring against the invaders of our territories feel maligned. We feel belittled when those of you who left, who have comfortable jobs, and houses with running water and electricity, somewhere else, where there is peace, speak like that. Has it ever occurred to you that some of us carry our guns, as the good everywhere must bear arms, to fight and die for justice?”
    â€œBut what makes you think that I believe you’re fighting over nothing of great importance? I’ve said no such thing.”
    â€œI’ve met and heard many like you!”
    Jeebleh chose not to answer and looked away.
    The Major continued: “We’re fighting for a worthy cause, the recovery of our territory. We’re fighting against our oppressors, who’re morally evil, reprehensibly blameworthy, every one of them. I see StrongmanSouth as evil for wanting to impose his wicked will on our people.”
    Jeebleh knew a lot more than he was prepared to let on, knew that the Major’s armed movement was engaged in acts equally reprehensible as those of StrongmanSouth’s militia, knew too that, as part of its policy to gain total control of the region, it had “cleansed” its ancestral territory of those hailing from other regions. From what Jeebleh had read, the leaders of the movement to which the Major and the driver belonged condoned the killing of innocent people who belonged to other clan families with ancestral memories different from theirs. Jeebleh considered the acts of all these armed movements immoral. Even so, he doubted there was any point engaging the so-called leaders in debate.
    â€œWhy are you here, anyway?” the Major demanded.
    â€œJust visiting,” Jeebleh replied.
    â€œWho’re you visiting?”
    Jeebleh took his time before responding, because he didn’t like the Major’s aggressive tone. To calm himself, he studied the early hints of darkness coming at them in waves, and enjoyed this intimation of his first night in Somalia descending. His silence made the Major more impatient; he insisted on his question. “Are you visiting anyone in particular?”
    â€œI’m visiting my mother’s grave,” Jeebleh said quickly.
    But he felt ridiculous even to himself as soon as the words had left his lips. Granted, there was no gainsaying the fact that he had intended to call at his mother’s grave, but he had planned to achieve other things during his visit, including a good air-clearing session with Bile about their unfinished business. He saw the Major and the driver exchange knowing glances; both looked at Jeebleh and then back at each other.
    â€œDid your mother die recently?” the driver asked.
    â€œClose to nine years ago.”
    â€œShe died without you having seen her for years?”
    Jeebleh nodded.
    â€œAny idea where she’s buried?”
    â€œNone whatsoever.”
    â€œDuring the last few years,” the driver said, “a lot of terrible things have been done both to the memory of the living and to the spirit of the dead. I’m glad you’ve come on a visit to ennoble her memory, and honor it. Even though, if I permit myself to be cynical for a moment, your mother was fortunate to die when she did. This way she was spared many of the horrors of the civil war.”
    â€œHow will you find her grave?” asked the Major.
    â€œI am pinning my hopes on my mother’s housekeeper and caretaker, who will most probably know where she is buried,” Jeebleh said. But, he