Excerpt from Woman of the Ashes by David Brookshaw, Mia Couto, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

So why have you just remembered this now?

Because that's how I want to die as well.

This was how she wanted her end to be: free of body, weightless, without a trace of her to bury. As if a painless death might erase all the pain in her life.

* * *

Every time a storm broke, our mother would rush out into the fields and stand there, her arms spread, in imitation of a withered tree. She was waiting for the fatal thunderbolt. Ash, dust, soot: that is what she yearned to become. Her desired fate was to be reduced to an invisible powder, light, so light that she would travel the world, carried on the wind. It was my grandmother's wish that justified my original name. This is what my mother wanted me to remember.

I like "Ash," I said. I don't know why, but it reminds me of angels.

I gave you that name to protect you. When we are dust, nothing can hurt us.

Men might well beat me, but no one would ever hurt me. This was the intention behind that baptism of mine.

She scratched at the ground with her hands; four rivers of sand cascaded from between her fingers. I stood dumbstruck, overwhelmed by the dust emanating from her hands.

Now go and get your father. He's jealous of us.

Jealous?

Of me for not giving him all my attention; of you because you were educated by the priests. You belong to a world he can never enter.

That's what men are like, she explained. They are scared when women talk, and even more scared when women are silent. I must understand this: My father was a good man. He was just scared of not being equal to other men.

Your father was angry when he left here. Learn one thing, my girl. The worst thing a woman can say to a man is that he ought to do something.

I'll go and get Father.

Don't forget the wine.

Don't worry, Mother. I've already hidden the bottles.

Quite the contrary, daughter. Take him a bottle!

Aren't you scared he'll beat you afterward?

What that stubborn old mule mustn't do is sleep in the bush. Bring him back here, sober or drunk. After that, we'll see what happens.

Then Mother returned to her sadness, like a domestic animal returning to its pen. She was already on her way when she spoke once more:

Ask him to take us back to live in Makomani, ask him to take us back to live by the sea. He listens to you. Ask him, Imani, for the love of God!

Excerpted from Woman of the Ashes by Mia Couto. Copyright © 2018 by Mia Couto. Excerpted by permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.