As they left Goudiry, she noticed large groups of people camped around cooking fires under trees along the highway. There were young children playing football or wrestling, goats weaving their way through the people, and men and women packing goods into wagons or on to donkeys and cows. There was well-ordered chaos and an underlying tension.
'They are seekers,' said the Nodder, Shakiso's embeds simultaneously translating and surprising her. His voice was treacle-dark, rich and deep. Like a continent.
'So many?' she asked. She said the words softly, and the translation was spoken via small speakers embedded in her rims.
'Yes. They seek freedom. They will make their crossing into the Maghreb soon.'
Seekers. People of no nation.