2085

by Alejandro Volnié

  “What do you want to talk about today?”

  “I have given much thought to it but I cannot decide. May I stay permanently in the monastery and become one of you?”

  “If this is meant for you it will happen by itself. In this world we always receive what is meant for us, no matter what we do to avoid it. You should not worry at this point to make a decision that could be hasty. Take your time, and if you decide so, come back.”

  “I appreciate your invitation. I have something else to ask:”

  “Tell me.”

  “While I have been isolated in this place I have found that exercising my will does not represent a challenge at all. While meditating I have felt how my determination has increased every day. Is it this simple?”

  “Right now you are lying to yourself. You are self-deceiving by thinking that the way will be easy. Here you have not really interacted with anyone besides me. The true exercise comes from colliding against the material world. The real challenge is to maintain integrity and stick to one’s convictions when things do not happen easily, in overcoming obstacles without breaking your own ethic, and to love and forgive those we are against us. The immense effort required to achieve this is the true exercise that will strengthen your will. Only by failing you will get to grow. Most of those who are now in the monastery will go back to the outside world sooner or later to take the opportunity that their seclusion is denying them. They are not in this place hiding from the world. Some of them simply are getting ready, others are trying to heal their wounds, but all of them know they must go back to the road.”

  “How will I know when to fight and when to give up?”

  “There is as much love in forgiving as in punishing, but to decide at some time which one is the right way can be very difficult. You must ask if what you are pretending to do is actually fair, necessary and useful. Whatever does not meet these three conditions is not worth doing.”

  “Why have you cared this much about me when you could just have let me unattended for a few days?”

  “This is my way of showing my love. Besides, what I have received I received without having even asked for it, though it came when I needed it the most. In the same way, I guess now you are getting this in good time, while I am returning a little of the very much I have received. We all win.”

  “This is our last conversation and as I fear not getting to ask so many important things I just don’t know where to continue.”

  “The first thing is to stop fearing. The method is simple but the work may turn out hard. You have the elements already. The solutions will always come to you. It is the nature of the universe. Trust yourself. For every question that we ask, sooner or later there will be an answer.”

  After these words there was a short silence. What the monk had said made sense to him. Suddenly his need to ask had vanished.

  “I see that your time to think has come again,” went on the old man. “I will leave you alone to do so.”

  With these words as farewell, the wise man turned around to go away just as he had arrived a while ago, leaving his student deep in thought.

  33

  The stone steps, still wet from the rain that had fallen all night long, had become slippery, making the long descent to the entrance of the monastery become dangerous.

  Although the monk escorting him seemed to be used to the steep stairway and was going down easily, he instead was suffering to keep his balance going from one step to the next.

  The horn of the car waiting on the road rang again, a sign that the driver was falling into impatience.

  When the heavy door finally opened with its usual screeching, the man standing next to the vehicle approached, took his luggage and greeted him cheerfully.

  “Good morning. For a moment I thought you were not coming out.”

  “The way down is long,” he said apologetically. “What is the plan?”

  After having put the luggage in the trunk of the car, the young driver handed him a thick envelope filled with documents while saying:

  “My instructions are to deliver this package and take you to the bus station. I guess the contents of the envelope will answer your question.”

  He received the package and settled in the front seat next to the man, ready to examine the documents as the car started its way down the mountain.

  The majestic landscape that had greeted him days ago now was covered by a thick fog that did not let see beyond a few yards. The winding road had become even more dangerous as it was wet and covered with pebbles loosened from the mountainside during the night.

  Ignoring the risks of the journey, the passenger hurriedly opened the envelope. He had an urge to satisfy his curiosity.

  The bundle of papers came out at one time to become visible.

  The letter serving as a cover listed an inventory of the package’s contents besides giving the directions to his new home, a farm that was now his property as warranted by the certificate also included.

  He had been given a bank account with enough money to set in operation his newly acquired farm. He had also been supplied with the necessary identification documents, as if he had always been part of the population of this part of the globe.

  Finally, there was the information needed to get in contact with the refugee community established in the region where he was about to settle down.

  This payment, made in exchange for his services, had been really generous and would put him in a good position to start a new life, as if his past had never existed.

  Although owning a property was in some way a great thing, what he really craved for was to become a part of a community to which he could feel to belong, so that his life could regain some sense.

  The teachings of the monk were still churning in his head, trying to accommodate orderly to become useful. The concepts that at first had seemed clear to him would prove difficult to apply most of the times under the facts of real life. Either way, he had perfectly understood that true spiritual progress could only be based on the interaction with others. He was longing to develop lasting relationships.

  The bus station getting in sight made him hurriedly put in the envelope the papers he had been reviewing during the trip. The driver got out and went to the trunk to get his luggage. Once in his hands he came back to the front door and put it on the floor; then he turned to his passenger and said:

  “By the way, I almost forgot that I have something else for you.”

  “What is it?” he asked intrigued.

  He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small white envelope.

  “I did not deliver this message to you,” he warned him in a complicity tone. “See you soon.”

  He stared at the small envelope for a moment, uselessly trying to guess what it could be, until he finally dared to open it.

  Inside was a handwritten white card reading: “Thanks for the flower. Good luck in your new life.”

  His heart leapt with joy. This he was receiving was the only tangible memory he would keep from his adventure as an intelligence agent, and in addition, remembering the beautiful woman who had sent it would always cause him to feel enraptured.

  Now he was in excellent spirits. Smiling, he walked to the counter to buy a ticket to his new home.

  The three and a half hour trip ended up in a small town of no more than some 5,000 inhabitants.

  It was past two in the afternoon and he was hungry, so he we went to the small restaurant across the street just facing the door of the station.

  Lunch time was over and the place was empty except for the woman standing behind the bar.

  As he walked through the door he was greeted with a friendly voice.

  “Good afternoon. Sit wherever you like.”

  “The bar is OK,” he answered.

  “What brings you here?”

  “I have acquired a property in this area and I come to take possession,” he answered.

  “Great! And where is it?”


  “I don’t know yet. I was hoping you could help me find it. These are the instructions.”

  The woman took the paper that his customer was giving her to carefully examine it.

  “Do you have a car?” she asked at last.

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, you will need one. This property is a few miles away from the main road. There is no public transportation to get there.”

  “I guess I will have to buy a vehicle at once.”

  “I will give you a recommendation to the only car dealer around here. It will have to be a used model, because to buy a new one you must travel another hour on the bus.”

  “A used one will be fine, but first I need to eat.”

  The woman handed him the menu while saying:

  “The special of the day is the stew. It is very good.”

  Then he remembered that despite having spent several weeks in this part of the world he had not become familiar with the names of popular dishes. Not wanting to seem like a refugee he chose to take her advice.

  “The stew will be fine.”

  She went behind the kitchen door to return after a minute with the copiously served dish that she put in front of her only customer.

  “How I can get to this address?” he asked, now showing her a piece of paper with instructions for making contact with the refugee community.

  She took it in her hands as if she had already guessed. Then she asked:

  “Are you a refugee?”

  “Yes,” he replied flatly.

  “I will help you. My husband is a refugee too. He came almost ten years ago. We will take care of you.”

  “Thank you. Are there many of us around here?”

  “About one fifth of this place’s population, and if we count the families that most of them had started, possibly we are more than half the people around who sympathize with the cause. You will be alright among us.”

  “Glad to hear that. I will appreciate all the help you can give me.”

  “The car dealer is also a refugee. Tell him where you come from. I guess you will get a better deal.”

  “Thanks for the advice. I will.”

  An hour later he was closing the deal on his new vehicle with a firm handshake. Indeed, he had been treated kindly by the merchant. Gradually his confidence to be accepted by the community was increasing.

  His next stop would be at a grocery store; then he would go finding his property. He was planning to get there while there still were a few hours of light left, as he had no idea of the condition in which his new home would be.

  He drove his new acquisition along the strip until he found a small mart. He parked in front.

  It had been many years since the last time he had gone shopping. The feeling was strange to him, so it took him over an hour to walk the corridors, meticulously examining each article that would catch his attention. The products offered here and their packaging looked very different from what he was used to see.

  His efforts culminated with a cart half full containing what he was guessing to need. So he headed for the exit.

  The evening sky had covered with dark clouds and was threatening to unleash a storm, so he hurried on to the all-terrain vehicle parked across the street.

  He had just started the engine when a heavy downpour along with large hailstones began to fall, bouncing noisily on the car. Now he could not see beyond a few feet, so he was forced to wait until weather conditions improved to hit the trail.

  Fortunately, the sudden shower soon became a mere drizzle that would persist all along his way.

  As he was not acquainted with the region he had to follow exactly the instructions to locate his property, carefully watching the odometer in the dashboard. This method let him find the deflection from the main road without problems.

  The journey from the village to his farm took just under 30 minutes. Still under the rain, he finally came to the gate.

  His first impression turned out to be unpleasant. The rusty metal and the lattice hanging loosely from the hinges let him guess that the property had been uninhabited for a long time. The troubles he had had just to go inside made him realize that he would need a lot of help to put the gate back in good condition.

  He drove to the house, which was about 200 yards ahead, trying to guess the trail that vegetation had almost completely hidden and was causing the tires to bounce on unpredictable obstacles once and again.

  When he finally managed to reach the esplanade in front of the main entrance of the house he parked in front of the door and got out, ready to inspect the interior although by this time he had already guessed that the place would be uninhabitable.

  It was enough to set foot inside to find that his fears had been well founded. Beginning with the leaky roof and ending with boards of floor that threatened to break at the slightest push, nothing was in a good condition.

  The sparse furniture was dirty and shabby, the plumbing would not produce anything but noise, and all kinds of insects and vermin had nested in every corner. The shutters were hanging untidily and a lot of window glasses were missing.

  Darkness prevailed inside as plants had grown after the windows, making it even more unsafe to move along and inviting him to leave at once.

  He went out to tour the building, this time around the outside. His first impression was unchanged at all. Then he stood on the esplanade as far as possible and tried to visualize the house completely repaired.

  The possibilities of turning it into a beautiful place were many. Its architectural elements offered many options. With a little work and some talent it would end up being a beautiful home. The idea of having a construction project ahead made his optimism back.

  As the rain had finally stopped, he decided to use the short time of light still remaining to recognize the grounds of the farm, so he drove to the base of a nearby hill to climb to the top along a winding path. Once on top he looked around while holding in his hands a blueprint of the estate.

  The total area was 600 acres. When he was told that it would be a small farm, actually they were comparing it to some of the immense estates around. Whereas in this region high price vegetables were grown, the size of his property could be considered as large based on the potential value of its production.

  Fields looked in a similar condition than the house. It could easily be noticed that the hand of man had done nothing for them in recent years; however, this was an advantage in itself, as the land would be regenerated and ready to produce.

  The sun setting behind the horizon reminded him that he was in a place that will soon become inhospitable, so he happily started his way back to the car walking down the path that had already started to smell like only during summer nights.

  The mixture of scents and the feeling of being challenged were making him feel tremendously alive again; now his mood was bordering on euphoria, urging him to sing out loud, which he did all the way down and still was doing when he got in the car to start his way back.

  He knew that it would take several weeks to get the house ready to move in. At this time he needed an inexpensive place to stay. He was thinking of going to the recommended people in seek of advice. If his instinct was right, he would get the same warmth that so far the lady at the restaurant and the car dealer had demonstrated.

  It was after eight when he was knocking on the door of a house. There he was, hoping to find the woman who coordinated the support group for refugees.

  The door opened and a lady about 50 years old came out. She was slightly plump, had an affable expression and her little eyes gave off a glow when speaking.

  “Hello?” She greeted him.

  “Good evening. I am looking for Mrs. Garcia.”

  “It’s me. What can I do for you?”

  “I got your name; this is why I have come. I am a dissident. I just arrived a few hours ago. I intend to settle down here.”

  The woman’s face lit up as soon as she heard him. One could tell she was really glad to get one more refu
gee.

  “Come in. We are having dinner. Join us at the table while you tell us your story.”

  In the dining room were her husband and daughter, who was about 17. They greeted him friendly, and after a few minutes he was already sharing the table with the whole family.

  “It’s been several months that nobody comes around,” said the father. “It seems that it is becoming increasingly difficult to flee.”

  “So I have heard. I was not easy to me.”

  He told them about his trip, omitting the part of his intrusion as a spy, but mentioning that he had had to give some service to the local authorities and had been paid with the farm.

  “We will help you to settle,” finally said his hostess. “All of us who have come here have been helped by others, and it is our custom to pay for what we received by helping those who come behind. It will not be a problem getting people to work for you on the farm, and as for the repairs of the house, we all will do our share. We will have it ready very soon.”

  The words of the woman filled him with optimism. It seemed that they would really support him.

  He was informed that his property had been abandoned for more than 15 years and since then had been under the custody of the civilian authorities of the community because the previous owners had incurred in illicit activities and eventually had defected to the opposite side. Exactly the opposite of what he was doing.

  After dinner they guided him to a nearby guesthouse. Finally, they agreed to go with him the next day to inspect the property and determine what kind of help he should get.

  Now he was not only feeling well received, but protected, and if it were not for that feeling of loneliness that filled him occasionally, he could say that finally he was at peace with himself.

  Somehow, despite being at a point where it was still much to be done, he was confident that things would go well, with that kind of certainty that comes from deep inside and leaves no room for doubt.

  A few days after, the remodeling was in progress and the fields to be cultivated during the next season were showing the results of the agricultural machinery that had been working on them every day.