Baraka Ngona's house has no roof anymore. The beams are on the ground in the yard, three long and two short. The wall behind is black up to the height of a man.

The door is propped against the frame. It is not hung. To go in you move it aside and put it back.

Inside, in the corner on the right, there are three stones. They are grey, flat on top, blackened underneath. They stand one beside the other against the wall.

Baraka arrives at half past six. He has a jute sack and a tin can. In the can there are embers from the camp, covered with ash. The can is warm.

He sets the sack down. He opens the can. He looks inside. He puts the lid back.

The people of Bule have been at Plaine Savo for nine months. The site is five kilometres away. You can see the hill from here.

On the fifth day eleven came back. They sleep in six houses. The others have no walls.

The water is at the spring at the bottom of the slope. It is four hundred metres and the climb back is steep. At the spring there are two yellow jerrycans and a black one. The black one leaks at the bottom and they keep it for mud.

In the yard of the house next door there is a hoe with no handle. There is also half a chair. The rest of the chair is nowhere to be seen.

At ten to seven two women pass in front of the gate with branches on their heads. They do not stop. They go towards the six houses.

At seven the white truck passes on the road. It goes slowly. It raises red dust as high as the windows that are not there.

Baraka picks up a stone. He moves it twenty centimetres towards the door. The stone scrapes the cement. The sound is long.

He puts the stone back where it was.

Dieudonné comes in, moving the door. Yesterday evening he said in front of everyone that no fires are to be made in the yards. He said one week. He said they read the smoke too.

Dieudonné looks at the corner with the three stones. He looks at the can. He says nothing. He goes out.

At eight Baraka digs a hole inside the house, against the black wall. The hole is a hand-span deep. He puts three sticks in it. He takes the embers. He tips them out. He blows.

The smoke rises and stops. There is no roof but the wall holds it. The smoke comes out low on the yard side and frays half a metre from the ground.

Baraka puts the pot on the sticks. Inside there is water and cassava. The water does not boil.

He takes the pot off. He puts it out with earth.

At Plaine Savo the smoke is seen only if it rises. If it rises, it is seen from the hill. From the hill it is seen by whoever stayed, and whoever stayed is Furaha with the three children, and Furaha looks at the hill every morning, and every morning the hill says nothing.

Baraka goes out into the yard. He walks to the road and comes back. It is thirty paces.

At ten past nine he takes the first stone. He carries it into the yard. He sets it down four metres from the door, on the old cement of the old hearth, where the cement is paler.

He takes the second. He sets it down. The two stones are a hand's breadth apart.

He takes the third. On the road the white truck passes the other way. The engine covers the scrape of the stone on the cement. Then the truck goes and the noise ends.

The third stone is in place. The three stones make a circle.

Baraka brings the sticks. He brings the can. He tips the embers into the circle. He blows twice.

The smoke rises straight. There is no wind.

He puts the pot on the three stones.

Dieudonné comes from the far end of the yard. He stops three metres away. He looks at the pot. He looks at the smoke.

"I told you yesterday."

Baraka adds a stick.

Dieudonné stays. Then he sits down on the long beam, sideways, his hands on his knees. He does not call anyone.

The water boils at a quarter to ten. Baraka puts in the cassava. He covers it.

The smoke goes up all morning. At eleven the column is as tall as a tree. At two it can still be seen.

At three a foot patrol passes. Four men with blue helmets. They walk on the road, they do not come in. One looks at the smoke. Then they look ahead and go.

That day no one comes.

At night Baraka sleeps in the house, under the sky. The embers stay in the circle in the yard, covered with ash.

The next morning, at twenty past seven, people can be seen on the road. There are nine of them. They walk in file. Two are carrying a rolled mattress.

Furaha is the third. The children are behind her. The smallest has a cut plastic bottle in his hand.

They come into the yard. Furaha stops in front of the circle of stones. She puts her hand over it, open, a hand's breadth from the ash.

Baraka brings the water. He fills the pot. He puts it on the three stones.

Dieudonné comes with two sticks and lays them on the ground near the fire.

Baraka takes a stick. He puts it in. The smoke starts again.