After lunch, Grandmother chats with her daughter in the shade of the living room doorway. The baby plays at their feet on the cool tile floor. He yawns so wide his jaw almost falls off. He woke up at dawn because Grandfather had caused quite a commotion when he left, decked out in his hunting gear. He had taken his biggest rifle with him, and a military driver was waiting patiently for him next to a truck belching black, foul-smelling smoke. Two armed men stood behind the cab, in the open truck bed, talking to the cook, who had also woken up earlier than usual. The vehicle set off in a cloud of dust and a rumbling storm. There was no way to go back to sleep despite Mom's gentle insistence, with the whole household already bustling with activity. “Oh dear! Shall we go back to sleep now?” whispered the grandmother's gruff voice. Finally, a reasonable suggestion!
The haze of his nap faded. Snatches of conversation reached his young ears. “What a smell! Fifteen kilometers from here... the wind is changing... I wonder... is the little one still asleep?” Questioned, the young subject clung to the bars of his crib and the fine tulle that served as a mosquito net. A few vocalizations hastily bring a sympathetic female audience, including the cook's wife, a strong woman with comfortable hips. Her apron folds where the hands of a large brood of children, hers and others', cling with a comforting sense of security. She is the reassuring but formidable Maama.
Her powerful voice impresses even the lady of the house. A friendly argument about the length of the nap takes up the time it takes to get up and wash the little one. Maama thinks it has been too short and reprimands the mother, who should come and rock the child when he wakes up to get him back to sleep, rather than reading all the time! Grandmother takes the opportunity to offer a few more, less pleasant opinions. The sacred union of the two grandmothers makes the young woman sulky, despite her offspring's seductive smiles. The truck is back, without the grandfather! An orderly carries a basin to the kitchen. The child has escaped and is scrutinizing its contents. An index finger ventures towards the red, oozing substance that ripples when disturbed. Grandmother arrives and cries out in horror: “Don't touch that, it's disgusting!”
She explains herself to the surprised orderly. On the Major's orders, he has brought two pieces of meat cut from the slaughtered elephant, a steak (the one that makes waves) and a piece of trunk, more rigid, but bathed in the other's almost coagulated blood.
A heated discussion ensues between the venerable lady and her cook while the mother quietly retrieves her son. The soldier quickly disappears, leaving in the truck, kicking up dust from the vegetation along the dirt road.
In the evening, the master reads the newspaper, sitting in a bamboo armchair, polluting the evening atmosphere with the stubborn smoke from his pipe. He waits for the women to announce dinner. Alone at the family table, his grandson struggles with the spoon that is supposed to help him get the cottage cheese from the bowl to his greedy mouth.
A wet stream of saliva and milky substance runs down his chin, spreads across his bib, and ends up on the bowl. The undaunted cook places an overheated pot in the center of the rectangular table and returns to his stove. The steam escaping from the side of the lid intrigues the little boy because it hisses as it bursts out.
The grandfather observes the scene over his newspaper, gets up, grabs a fork and knife, and cuts off a small piece of meat, which he blows on to cool. With an engaging smile, he offers it to his grandson, who devours it with a wide, casein-white smile. The little jaws still have very few teeth, so he is forced to chew the bite, move it from left to right, then right to left, salivate profusely, and look questioningly at his tempter, who has returned to reading. The hypocrite pretends to be absorbed in an article! How it crunches! It's stringy as hell, too big to swallow, very salty, and horribly peppery. The little one has tears in his eyes! The sauce of the horn stew is dark brown and mixes in thin streams with the white layer that smears his round face. No technical help in sight, while the women chat in the kitchen with the busy servant.
Uncomfortable with the unexpected taste of this strong dish and exasperated by the excessive work it requires, the cherub puts his little hand in his mouth and extracts the unwanted lump, which now has an unspeakable appearance. He throws it on the floor with a vengeful gesture but loses the spoon in the movement. Attracted by the noise, all the women and a cat come out of the kitchen. The humans cry out in surprise at the sight, but the feline, after sniffing it cautiously, seizes the opportunity and swallows it in two bites. Such a delicate dish cannot be refused! The gourmet winks. The ancestor, whose feigned innocence fools no one, is thoroughly reprimanded. Mom takes her offspring for a second cleaning session, which will make him grumpy until bedtime. The cook laughs heartily and is rebuked by his mistress. Is it possible that this cat deliberately winked at the toddler before disappearing into the night in the garden?