Dona Nicanora's Hat Shop

by Dona Nicanora's Hat Shop (retail) (epub)

  ‘I don’t know,’ Nicanora said, not wishing to divulge her plans to keep the Gringito for as long as was necessary to make a successful bid for Don Bosco’s shop.

  ‘Well, I’m sure our good and honest mayor will be most delighted to be greeted by a chanting foreigner outside his office – that is, when he finally decides to grace us with his company again.’

  The chanting to which Don Bosco referred had been a recent addition to the Gringito’s daily repertoire of odd behaviour. It had started with short episodes of humming, during which time he sat under the eucalyptus tree cross-legged and with his eyes shut. Then one day Nena noticed, as she brought him his lunch bowl, that he seemed to be talking to himself and repeating the same words over and over again. After the humming and chanting episodes began, Nena also noticed a pungent smell wafting around the square as the Gringito sat smoking his cigarettes and burning little pieces of twig that he stuck into the ground around the eucalyptus tree.

  Although his behaviour in the plaza seemed to be becoming more and more bizarre, he was much the same as he had always been in Nicanora’s house, entertaining Nena, getting in everyone’s way and smiling hopelessly when anyone asked him a question. Exasperated by the continual jibes made by Don Bosco, Nicanora asked Nena to find out from the Gringito what all this business in the plaza was about.

  ‘Apparently he’s on a journey,’ Nena reported.

  ‘What do you mean “he’s on a journey”?’ Nicanora asked irritably.

  ‘That’s what he said. He’s on a personal journey.’

  ‘Well,’ retorted Nicanora. ‘If he’s on a journey, could you ask him if he could please move around a bit while he’s making it. This sitting under the eucalyptus tree all day is disturbing the children and upsetting Don Bosco, and heaven knows what the mayor will say when he gets back. I don’t want to have to deal with the consequences.’

  ‘All right,’ said Nena, who skipped off to the plaza to find the Gringito and suggest a more appropriate route for his personal travels.

  When Nena got to the square, she found that the Gringito was no longer sitting cross-legged under the tree, but was now standing on his head. Deciding that either the world had turned upside down or the Gringito had finally gone mad, she went home to tell her mother.

  Four

  Arturo sat in the plaza reflecting on life. It had become part of his daily routine over the past weeks. He was becoming quietly accustomed to his contemplative existence and he was struggling with guilt over the intoxicating sense of freedom he was enjoying away from his mother’s cloying affection and his father’s unbending disapproval. In truth, he was relishing the liberation of having, for the first time in his life, nobody to tell him what he should think and who he should be. Indeed, nobody seemed to care that he was there at all. He was confused by the mixed sense of loss and relief he felt away from the hold of Claudia’s charismatic charms, which in his youth had given him the strength to disobey his parents’ wishes, always with the hidden safety of knowing that he was meeting with Claudia’s approval. He sat gazing at the little square, a yearning growing in him to become a part of the life of the uncomplicated town: simply to be accepted for himself.

  As usual, a group of men were seated at a table outside the barber’s shop. They were eating watermelon and drinking beer, engaged in a lively debate. The only other sign of activity in the middle of the weekday afternoon was the gentle humming of the Gringito as he sat under the eucalyptus tree, and an emaciated dog who sidled up to the men only to be chased away with handfuls of watermelon pips. As yet, Arturo had not spoken to the men, beyond the exchange of a friendly nod and greeting, and they seemed to eye him with a wary suspicion. He felt a surge of warmth as he looked at them, trying to pluck up the courage to go over and make conversation. They were dressed just like the peasants he had seen every day of his life as they flooded into the city to sell their produce in the large central market, which, as a boy, his mother had forbidden him from visiting.

  ‘Don’t get too close to them,’ she would warn. ‘They are crawling with lice and carry all sorts of diseases on their clothes that will make your fingers and toes drop off. There was a good reason why they didn’t used to be allowed to ride on the buses,’ she would deliberate loudly within earshot of their maid Doña Julia. Even at the age of six, Arturo would feel his eyes and face burn with the humiliation that Doña Julia accepted in dignified silence. Arturo remembered with clarity the lecture his mother had delivered to him one day after he had begged her to be allowed to go to the market, shopping with Julia.

  ‘You are different from them,’ his mother told him. ‘It demeans you to be seen with them. Doña Julia should know that.’

  ‘But she looks after me,’ Arturo protested. ‘She’s kind to me.’

  ‘She may be kind to you,’ his mother replied. ‘But she is not to be trusted. Give these people half a chance and they will stab you in the back. You must understand, Arturo, they are not like us. They think and feel differently from us. They are ignorant peasants, always remember that.’ And Arturo always had remembered it, with an acute and profound shame.

  The campesinos sitting at the little table outside the barber’s were now drinking their beer in silence, staring at him. The emaciated dog had lost interest in the watermelon remains and had deserted the plaza to try his luck in the scrabble for pickings from the closing market. Arturo decided that now was the moment to break the deadlock. Apart from anything else he wanted to know whether anyone among them knew when the mayor would be returning. His resolve to start a conversation melted away under the steady gaze of the men as he approached. He felt awkward and over-dressed in the white city shirt and black trousers that Doña Julia had packed for him. He had worn them having set out that morning to try, yet again, to arrange a meeting with Ramon. As usual, when he had arrived at the town hall Ramon was nowhere to be seen. As he walked over to the men, one of them muttered something in an indistinguishable dialect and the others smiled and nodded in agreement. Suddenly, a small man with a balding head appeared in the doorway of the shop, holding a razor in one hand as he reached out to greet Arturo with the other.

  ‘At last,’ Don Bosco said, ‘and I’ve won the wager that today would be the day that you would finally talk to us. You owe me five hundred pesos each,’ he said, addressing the other men.

  ‘So, tell us, what brings you to these parts?’ Don Bosco continued, smiling amiably.

  Surprised at the question, Arturo was momentarily stuck for a reply. His first inclination was to tell the truth and say that his father had sent him in order to separate him from his unsuitable attachment to Claudia, or that Claudia had sent him to separate him from his unsuitable respect for his father. He decided it was easier to say that he understood that the mayor had asked for him because the town needed a doctor.

  ‘Indeed we do. Of course,’ said Don Bosco, ‘and I’m sure you’ll be very good for us all. You are, indeed, just what we need here, an educated man.’

  Arturo felt uncomfortable, uncertain whether or not Don Bosco was toying with him. ‘Actually,’ Arturo continued, ‘I was wondering if you knew where the mayor’s assistant is. He sent me a note yesterday and I need to make an appointment to see him. Do you know when the mayor will be returning?’

  The men looked at each other. ‘As far as I know the mayor left town on business a couple of months back. We’re hoping he isn’t lost in the forest,’ Don Bosco said with a look that suggested no such thing. ‘You’re not acquainted with our mayor?’ he continued.

  ‘No,’ Arturo replied. ‘I’ve never met him.’

  ‘Well,’ said Don Bosco, ‘that’s a pleasure awaiting you. Don Teofelo here will take you over to find Ramon in a moment. But first, why not join us in a quick beer?’

  ‘So, what were you thinking?’ Don Bosco asked as Arturo sat down, a chair having been placed for him at the table. ‘We’ve been watching you for some time now, sitting there in the afternoons staring at our plaza, and altho
ugh we all think it is a fine square ourselves – one of the best in the province by all accounts – we were asking ourselves whether it is interesting enough to warrant staring at for an hour. Don Teofelo here was wisely saying how the world that is so familiar to one man can look so different through the eyes of another. So I wonder, how does our little world look to you?’

  ‘Actually, I was thinking how beautiful it is here. Different, but quite beautiful,’ Arturo replied with sincerity.

  ‘Yes, and more besides that, I’ll wager,’ Don Bosco replied knowingly. ‘So you like what you see so far?’

  ‘The church is like no building I have ever seen before,’ said Arturo. ‘I’d love to see inside. I would give anything to be able to see the statue of the Virgin. Is she really in there?’

  ‘That is what we would all like to know,’ Don Bosco replied. The men looked at each other in silence. Don Teofelo cleared his throat nervously. After a pause Don Bosco continued. ‘Perhaps the doctor could help us settle our little dispute. Seeing you sitting there in the square got us to discussing how times change. We seldom see visitors these days, and suddenly we have two, you and that odd fellow over there,’ and Don Bosco nodded in the direction of the eucalyptus tree. One of the men who had left the table at the start of the introductions returned with a bottle of beer, which he gave to Arturo. Arturo, who seldom drank alcohol and never in the afternoons, accepted the beer gratefully.

  ‘Our mayor, it seems, has great plans for our town,’ Don Bosco said suddenly, ‘and you, doctor, I suppose, are part of those plans. Don Teofelo has his views on the subject. Teofelo is a clever man, you know. He went to work in the mines when he was a young man, before he came and settled back here.’

  ‘As you know, Bosco,’ Teofelo said, ‘I’m a modern man, I’m not against change like you people who have lived all your lives staring at this plaza and never seeing anything beyond its four corners.’ Don Bosco winked at Arturo again, indicating that he was taking the insult in good spirit.

  ‘Not all that “modern man” nonsense again,’ Don Alfredo mumbled as he took a gulp of his beer. ‘Having been in the mines makes you no more modern than the rest of us. I don’t see what is so modern about going here, there and everywhere. I’m sure the beer is the same wherever you go. And anyway, if you are so modern and we are not, then why did you come back?’

  ‘If it wasn’t for people like me, with a bit of experience of the outside world, this town would be dead on its feet,’ Don Teofelo retorted. ‘My only concern now is what the mayor is up to. I tell you, changes are afoot. I keep telling you this but you’re all too caught up in your little lives to listen.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you do something about it then?’ Don Arsenio added to the debate. ‘Especially as you’re so much better than we are.’

  ‘Now, now,’ Don Bosco said, opening another bottle of chilled beer to cool readily heated tempers. ‘But, Teofelo. We are not clear. What is your point?’ asked Don Bosco. ‘It seems to me you are confused. One minute you tell us how we are small-minded people who are stuck in our ways here and never open to change, and the next you tell us to beware because changes are afoot. I’m not sure you can have it both ways. I can’t see how the arrival of a doctor from the city is a sign of disaster for our town, can you, doctor?’

  Arturo was uncertain, but was spared the effort of answering as Don Teofelo cut in.

  ‘My point is quite simple, even for you. All I am saying is, things should be done in the right way, and we need to be careful. What is the mayor’s intention? That’s what I’m asking. He’s never shown any concern for the welfare of this town before. You people have a short memory. Don’t forget his family owned the estate that sucked the lifeblood out of our fathers and grandfathers. There are ways and means of going about things.’

  ‘Well, I have never understood why Bosco here would never stand for mayor,’ Don Alfredo said.

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Don Arsenio added in support of the suggestion.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure about that,’ Don Julio suddenly interjected. Everyone looked at him. ‘I mean, I’m not so sure about progress. You say, for example, that a bigger school with a well-qualified teacher from the city would be a good thing for our children. On the other hand, I’ve heard of this happening in other places. The children start to see the world in a different way and they begin to argue with their parents and the next thing you know they’re leaving in their droves, not just a few at a time. Eventually all you have left is a lot of old people sitting around on benches in the plaza discussing how sad the town is now that there are no young people left. So, doctor, the question I am asking myself is this. If we’ve managed for so long without you, are we really going to be better off having you here? I only ask this out of interest. I mean no disrespect.’

  ‘So, you would stop progress for our children because you’re afraid of becoming a lonely old man?’ Don Teofelo challenged him provocatively.

  ‘Don Julio is only saying that because he’s afraid of what a doctor might do to him,’ Don Bosco added. ‘He’s been suffering from toothache for the past two months and I’ve offered to pull his teeth out. He won’t have it, you know.’ Don Julio smiled sheepishly at the doctor, revealing a row of black stumps. Arturo suddenly wished that he had paid more attention to his emergency dentistry classes.

  ‘Well, I have never needed a doctor yet,’ Don Alfredo said. ‘The medicine man was good enough for my father and his father before him, so he’s good enough for me.’

  ‘Thank you, Alfredo,’ Don Bosco said with a hint of impatience in his voice. ‘I suppose the question we are posing to you, doctor, is this. Is your presence a good or a bad thing for our town? I suppose that is also what you are here to find out, is it not? You are most welcome and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.’ And with that, Don Bosco shook Arturo’s hand again and disappeared back into the barber’s.

  ‘I’ll take you to see Ramon now,’ Don Teofelo offered.

  Arturo stood up and shook hands with the other men. He then whispered quietly to Don Julio, ‘If you come up to the clinic I promise I can take your tooth out for you without it hurting at all. I have an injection I can give that will stop the pain, you won’t feel a thing.’ Arturo was surprised at the confidence with which he offered a service that he had only ever performed once in his life, and then with much bloodletting and a good deal of screaming.

  ‘That I will, doctor. It would be good to be free from the pain,’ said Don Julio, holding his face. ‘Thank you for your advice.’

  Don Teofelo led Arturo away in search of the elusive Ramon.

  Don Julio’s promise to let the doctor sort out his aching tooth developed into nothing more than the subject of daily banter.

  ‘And how is the tooth today, Don Julio?’ Arturo would ask as he passed the barber’s on his way to the market.

  ‘Still hurting, thank you, doctor,’ would come the reply.

  ‘Good, good. Make sure you visit me soon, I’m waiting for you up there.’

  The ritual came to an end one day when Don Julio proudly announced that the tooth was no more. The pain, so the story went, had become so unbearable that Don Julio had become completely delirious in the middle of the night and had tied a rope around his neck and started pacing the house in search of a suitable place from which to hang himself. His wife, hysterical with fear, had run to Don Bosco’s house, waking up the neighbours in the process, screaming that her husband was possessed by a devil, or maybe even two. With great presence of mind, Don Bosco had rushed to Don Julio’s house and yanked the offending tooth from his friend’s head, apparently without spilling so much as a drop of blood. The story had become a favourite at the barber’s shop, and Don Bosco was particularly fond of retelling the bit about how he had managed to restore health and sanity to his friend with the aid of nothing more than a good deal of common sense and a large pair of pliers.

  ‘And so, doctor,’ Don Bosco said to Arturo playfully, ‘the old ways sometimes are
the best, don’t you agree?’

  Arturo had almost forgotten about the mayor’s threatened visit until one morning Ramon arrived at the clinic. He appeared just after Ernesto had gone home for lunch and before Arturo was about to set out on his daily walk to the plaza. He stayed long enough to deliver a letter informing Arturo that the mayor had arrived back in town and would be making an official visit to the clinic in the next week. He also handed him a little batch of letters that had been delivered by donkey a few weeks previously from Rosas Pampas, including a letter from Arturo’s parents and a card from Doña Julia. Most disturbing of all was a note from Claudia written in a hurried scrawl implying that she was in serious trouble and warning Arturo that she would be leaving the city imminently.

  Five

  Arturo had first met Claudia at a family picnic party. They were both eight years old. Claudia had shown him that the world could be seen from another point of view entirely, and from the moment they met he had lived with the conviction that their fates were intertwined and that she was the person with whom he was destined to spend his life. His father had other ideas. Claudia was the daughter of a cousin of Arturo’s father, several times removed. Her father had been a known communist agitator, a writer of dubious fiction, a womaniser and a drunk. Arturo’s parents considered Claudia to be possessed with the same reckless spirit as her father. Although she was a frequent visitor to the house during Arturo’s childhood, she was tolerated only because her mother – having eventually separated from her ill-chosen husband – had become a prodigiously influential civil servant with the power to make or break a man’s career. Loretta Camacho was a force to be reckoned with. Under her protective matriarchal shadow, Claudia’s untamed spirit ran riot throughout the Aguilar household, taking Arturo with her.

  Arturo had been a timid child. Having no siblings, he was overanxious to please his father, and lived in constant fear of the wrath he would encounter whenever he fell short of his father’s expectations, which happened daily. In the presence of Claudia, he became filled with a confidence and a bravado that both terrified and excited him, and which departed with Claudia as soon as she left the house. Alone, he faced his father’s icy disapproval.