Chronicler Of The Winds

by Henning Mankell

  After discussing the pros and cons of getting a dog for Nelio, they decided it was worth trying. The next day they captured a brown dog by the harbour. The dog bit Nascimento on the hand, but they succeeded in tying a leash around his neck and dragged him back in triumph. Nelio was sitting in the shade of his tree when they appeared with the dog.

  'We want to give you a dog so you'll be in a better mood,' Pecado said. 'He doesn't have a name, and I'm afraid he'll have to be tamed. He bit Nascimento on the hand. But I'm sure he'll be good company.'

  Nelio stared at the dog, which was alternately barking and whining. He thought about the dogs that the bandits had killed when they burned the village.

  He took the leash that Alfredo Bomba was holding.

  'I thank you for catching a dog for me. I accept, and I will call him Rico. A stray dog is even poorer than we are, but I can still give him a good name. I will keep him until tomorrow. Then I'll let him go. But he will still be my dog. Tomorrow I will also be in a better mood. Now go away and leave me in peace.'

  That night the dog stood tied up outside the equestrian statue, barking. In the early dawn Nelio let him loose. He ran off at once, and Nelio never saw Rico again. That night, as he lay awake because of the dog's barking, he realised that he would have to do something about his bad mood. He couldn't continue to be the leader of the group if he was always impatient and angry. And yet he couldn't leave them because he had made a promise to Cosmos. And none of the others could take over the leadership.

  The only one he could imagine doing it was Deolinda, but that would never work. An albino who was also a girl could never be the leader of a group of wild street kids.

  The next day he called them together behind the petrol station.

  'I've had a lot to think about lately. And it was hard because you are always making such a commotion, but from now on everything will be different. I won't sit alone in the shade of my tree so often.'

  His words had the effect he had hoped for. He could see that they were relieved. To further emphasise that he was back to normal, he told them that they should all work extra hard and not take any unnecessary siestas. Tristeza would be allowed to use the money they earned to go to the shoe shop and choose a pair of trainers. And from now on Deolinda would get the same share as everybody else. And they would also buy her a new dress.

  'That we go around in rags is one thing,' Nelio said. 'But Deolinda is a girl. She should be properly dressed. But you have to wash well before you put on the new dress. And keep the old one. That's what you can wear when you climb around the rubbish heaps looking for food.'

  A few days later Tristeza, his head held high, went into a shoe shop, and when he came out he was wearing a pair of white trainers. The same afternoon they bought Deolinda a new dress that was red with white trim around the sleeves.

  'I thought all gloomy thoughts could be chased away,' Nelio said at last, as dawn drew near on the morning of the eighth day. 'But I was wrong. Because several days later something happened that made Deolinda disappear and never come back. And Alfredo Bomba started acting strangely.'

  Nelio fell silent, as if he had said too much.

  'Alfredo Bomba,' I said, trying to coax him to continue.

  Nelio looked at me for a long rime before he spoke again. With the red glow of the morning on his forehead, I could see that he was sweating. He was slipping once more into a fever.

  And then, just as I was starting to fear that he was asleep, he began speaking again.

  Alfredo Bomba started acting strangely. And then everything else happened, ending with you finding me and carrying me up here to the roof

  Then I knew that we had come to the end of the story. Now I was going to find out what had happened on that night down in the empty theatre. Maybe I would only have to wait one more night before I had the answers to the questions I had been pondering.

  Nelio lay there with his eyes shut. I had put a cup of water next to the mattress. I got up carefully to go down to the yard and wash. I also had to wash my clothes, which were starting to smell bad.

  Then Nelio began to speak again, without opening his eyes.

  'It's not easy to die,' he said. 'It's the only thing that no one can teach us.'

  He said nothing more. As I went down the winding stairs, I felt frightened. I could no longer push the thought aside; I could no longer fool myself with false hopes.

  Nelio was going to die on the roof. He had known it all along.

  I sat down in the dark of the stairs and wept. I don't cry very often. I couldn't even remember the last time it had happened. I am a man who laughs. But on that morning I sat in the dark stairway and cried, and I thought that it was all too late, and that a ten-year-old boy who is an old man is still only a child.

  A child should live, not die.

  I borrowed money from one of the girls at the bakery counter and then went over to one of the city's barraccas and drank tontonto. It didn't take long before I was quite drunk, and I fell asleep on the ground.

  When I woke up many hours later someone had stolen my shoes, and I had to walk barefoot back to the bakery.

  I remember that the day was very hot. The sea was dead calm.

  I stood at the pump in the backyard for a long time, washing myself.

  When Maria came walking towards the bakery I was out on the street waiting for her. I couldn't get enough of her smile. But all my thoughts were with Nelio, who was lying up there on the roof. No one had taught him how to act when he was about to die.

  Is there any greater loneliness? When a person realises that he has to die and there's no one to teach him how to do it?

  I thought about that great loneliness, and the feelings I had then have never since left me in peace.

  At midnight I followed Maria out to the street again. When she had taken a few steps, she turned and waved.

  Then I went back up to the roof.

  It was the eighth night.

  The Eighth Night

  When I went up to the roof and looked at Nelio, he was already dead.

  I stood there motionless, and something hard clamped around my heart.

  What I thought at that moment, I no longer remember. But I think it's true that when another person dies, the life you have inside you defends itself by mobilising all its forces to keep mortality at bay.

  In the presence of death, life always becomes very clear.

  But what I was thinking I can no longer recall.

  Then I saw that I was mistaken. He wasn't dead; he was still alive. Or if he had died for a brief moment, then he returned to life because I had called him. I had whispered his name: Nelio. And suddenly he moved, quite feebly, but there was a definite movement on the mattress. I knelt down beside him and put my face close to his mouth; I could feel that he was still breathing.

  But was he still there or was he about to leave? I must have been seized by panic because I started tugging and shaking him and calling out his name. If sleep and unconsciousness are the only experiences we have that teach us something about what death is, then he had already sunk very deep. I was shaking a body that felt already far away. Since he weighed so little, it was like shaking a bunch of feathers or an empty shell from which the spirit had departed.

  At last he came back to life, though reluctantly, and opened his eyes. He was very tired and also seemed lost and confused. I wasn't sure that he recognised me, and it was a long time before he seemed to be calm again. I gave him some water with Senhora Muwulene's herbs to drink.

  'I dreamed that I was dead,' Nelio said. 'When I tried to make my way back up to the surface, something was holding on to my legs. Then I managed to kick myself free. But I only did it because I wasn't finished with my story.'

  I changed his bandage. His whole chest was now inflamed. The dark edges of the infection had spread far down towards his groin and up to his shoulders. The stench was almost unbearable. I thought my efforts were pointless – the bullets were spreading their poison through his bo
dy more and more rapidly, and his resistance had finally succumbed.

  'I have to take you to the hospital,' I said.

  'I'm not finished with my story yet,' he replied.

  I said nothing more. I knew that he would never let me take him to the hospital. He would stay on the roof until he died.

  Nobody had any money to lend me. That month, like so many others, Dona Esmeralda was late in paying us our wages. To give Nelio something to eat I had boiled some eggs from the bakery and mashed them up in a cup. I had to feed it to him, and he ate very slowly. Afterwards I rearranged the blanket under his head. The night was muggy, without a breath of wind. Nelio looked up and gazed at the clear night sky with the glittering stars.

  Suddenly he said, 'Opixa murima orèra. Mweri wahòkhwa ori mutokwène, etheneri ehala yàraka.'

  I was surprised by his words. I remembered that I had once heard an old woman in my village say the same thing: 'The moon disappears after growing big, the stars continue to shine even though they are small.'

  I looked up at the sky. 'The moon will come back,' I said.

  'The stars have no memory,' Nelio said. 'For them, the moon is every night a stranger coming to visit and then leaving again. Among the stars, the moon is an eternal stranger.'

  The dogs were barking restlessly on that sultry night. Drums could be heard in the distance from the other side of the estuary. Fires blazed, and I thought I could see small, dwarf-like shadows moving to the rhythmic pounding of the drums.

  Nelio thought that Deolinda had come to stay, but he was mistaken. Since he slept in his statue at night, he wasn't at first aware of what was going on. It wasn't until Mandioca came and sat down next to him in the shade of his tree one day that he realised that everything was not as it should be. Mandioca was hesitant and embarrassed. He sat there twisting an onion between his fingers. It was unusual for Mandioca to seek out his company alone, so Nelio understood that Mandioca must have something important weighing on his mind.

  'What is it you want?' Nelio asked after waiting a suitable amount of time in silence.

  'Nothing,' replied Mandioca.

  More time would have to pass before Mandioca felt ready to start talking.

  'The shadow is still long,' Nelio said. 'I'll stay here until it's gone. Before then you must tell me what you want.'

  Mandioca dug into his pockets where his plants grew. He folded back his pockets so the sun could shine on the leaves. Earlier, to his astonishment, Nelio had seen that plants really could grow in Mandioca's pockets. It was as if Mandioca himself were a plant, a sapling whose arms were like spindly branches without leaves.

  'Something isn't right,' Mandioca said at last, when the shadow had already begun to narrow.

  'What you said just now doesn't mean anything,' Nelio said. 'Speak clearly if you want to talk to me. Stop mumbling.'

  'It's Nascimento,' said Mandioca.

  Nelio thought that Mandioca seemed to be in a wrestling match with his words.

  'What about Nascimento?'

  Silence again. Nelio sighed and continued to watch the shadow as it narrowed. A lizard darted between his feet and disappeared into a crevice between the cobblestones.

  'What about Nascimento?' he repeated.

  After the long, drawn-out preliminaries to the conversation, Mandioca's reply came surprisingly fast.

  'Nascimento wants to do xogo-xogo with the xidjana,' he said. 'But I don't think the xidjana wants to.'

  Nelio considered what he had heard for a moment before he asked his next question.

  'Did he say that?'

  'He already tried it.'

  'What happened?'

  'The xidjana didn't want to.'

  'Don't call her xidjana. We said we would use her real name.'

  'Deolinda didn't want to.'

  'When was this?'

  'Last night.'

  'What happened?'

  'Nascimento thought everybody was asleep. But I was awake. Nascimento pulled off the xidjana's blanket.'

  'Her name is Deolinda.'

  'Nascimento pulled off Deolinda's blanket.'

  'Then what happened?'

  'He pulled up her dress to see what she looked like underneath.'

  'Did he see anything? Doesn't Deolinda wear anything underneath?'

  'I don't know. She woke up.'

  'Then what happened?'

  'Nascimento wanted her to pull up her dress and show him what she looked like.'

  'Did she do it?'

  'She got mad and lay down to sleep again.'

  'What did Nascimento say?'

  'He said that the next night they would do xogo-xogo, whether she wanted to or not. Otherwise Nascimento would beat her.'

  And the next night is the night that's now on its way?'

  Mandioca nodded. The long conversation had taxed his strength. Nelio moved further into the shadow, which was now quite narrow, and thought about what he had heard.

  'If Deolinda doesn't want to do xogo-xogo with Nascimento, she'll know how to stop it from happening. She threw him to the ground once before.'

  Nelio considered the conversation to be over. But Mandioca didn't move.

  'Is there something else?'

  'Nascimento might not know that it's dangerous to do xogo-xogo with an albino.'

  'Why should it be dangerous?'

  'Everyone knows that you get stuck.'

  'Stuck?'

  'Nascimento is going to get stuck. He'll never be able to get out again. It's going to look very strange.'

  'That's just a story. It's not really true.'

  'Deolinda might not know that.'

  Nelio realised that Mandioca's real worry was whether Nascimento would get stuck or not.

  'Nothing's going to happen,' Nelio said. 'Now the shadow is gone. We don't need to talk about this any more.'

  But that night as Nelio lay sleeping in the horse's belly, he was jolted awake from disturbing dreams. He had seen Deolinda's face before him – it was contorted with terror or rage, and she had talked to him, but he couldn't understand what she said. Filled with foreboding, he pulled on his trousers and crept out through the hatch. Then he ran as fast as he could through the city. But when he reached the stairs where the group lay tangled up among cardboard boxes and blankets, Deolinda was gone.

  Mandioca was awake.

  'Where's Deolinda?' Nelio asked in a low voice so as not to wake up the others.

  'She's gone.'

  'I dreamed about her. What happened?'

  'Nascimento did xogo-xogo with her. Even though she didn't want to. But he didn't get stuck.'

  Nelio felt his fury rise. 'Where's Nascimento?'

  'He's sleeping in his box.'

  Nelio kicked at the cardboard box where Nascimento spent his nights in a ceaseless battle with his monsters. He lifted the lid and told Nascimento to come out. Gradually the others began to wake up too. As Nascimento clambered out of his box, Nelio saw that his face was scratched. This made him so angry that he was about to lose control. The marks on Nascimento's face were Deolinda's attempt to defend herself. Nelio yanked at Nascimento's shirt and pulled him clear of the box. The others sat around nervously. They had never seen Nelio so angry before.