by Ondjaki
“it’s not like that, baby”
“well, i’m sure seeing a maka... a blonde maka is a different type of maka”
Nga Nelucha’s sister, a mulatta with pronounced, slightly droopy lips, arrived in the hallway just as they were about to enter their apartment
“my favourite brother-in-law!” she greeted him cheerfully
“my sister-in-law with the prettiest lips in Angola!” Edú hugged her as best he could, allowing for the fact that the swelling in his crotch always became an embarrassment in situations like this, “let me introduce you to this worldly girl who says that she doesn’t have makas in her heart”
Fató did not move, she gave the foreign woman a penetrating look, causing the journalist a level of discomfort that Nga Nelucha hadn’t succeeded in giving her
“let’s go inside and talk business, i don’t have all day,” she hurried into her sister’s apartment, “my apologies, young lady”
“bye-bye,” Edú murmured, excusing himself with a look at the astonished young woman
“thanks for everything,” her words bounced off the closed door
Little Daddy was nearby and, eager to help, he offered again to keep showing her the building, the young man answered her questions cheerfully, relating the building’s little secrets, such as how to enter without being noticed, how to leave without passing through the ground floor, and the whopping tales that got bigger and better with time
“some people say this building has its own free will... that things happen,” the journalist spoke in a muted voice, observing the strange, calm way in which the waters flowed incessantly from the walls of the first-floor hallways
“it’s up to each person to wait and see... lots of things happen right here, when i pass by, unusual thoughts enter my head”
“are you from here, from Luanda?”
“no, i’m from the south, i left because of the war”
“what was the war like?”
“the war’s something you don’t talk about, lady... were you yourself ever in a war?”
“only in photographs, my grandfather was in a war for many years”
“photographs? how’s that? you can see war in a photograph?”
“no... no you can’t...” the journalist lowered her eyes, “and who’s the elder-woman who lives here in the building?”
“she’s a lady who’s also from the south”
“do you speak to each other in your language?”
“i disremembered my language, maybe on the day i find my mother”
“where’s your mother?”
“i don’t know, i’m looking for her, in fact today i’m going on television, on the program that finds people”
“and do they really find them?”
“first you have to believe...”
Little Daddy smiled
his sodden body hoisted another pail of water.
in the chambers, behind Dona Creusa, who was given permission to attend, sat Advisor Santos Prancha and the Minister
the tax inspectors This Time and Next Time entered just as they were about to drink a toast, without knowing the reason for the celebration, they were pleased with the snacks and the quantity of champagne on offer
“long live Crystal-Clear Waters!” Dom Crystal-Clear said
“long live the precious liquid,” the Minister winked, “and the preciousness of liquids in general!”
“cheers!” the tax inspectors said together
Dona Creusa remained more distant and withdrawn, hoping to be offered a glass, something that nobody would have done had it not been for Crystal-Clear’s politeness
“don’t you drink, senhora?”
“it depends,” the Advisor interjected
“what do you mean it depends? it only depends on her thirst and her wishes, so,” speaking to her alone, “will you have some champagne?”
“thank you, Senhor Crystal-Clear”
“i’m glad, drinking is good luck”
“and it quenches thirst!” the Minister concluded
through the half-open door, the telephone rang in the secretary’s office, Dona Creusa went to answer
“who? yes... just a minute,” she went back into the chambers, “excuse me, Senhor Minister, the American is at reception”
“what American?” the Minister had completely forgotten
“the one with the ass... what’s his name, Dona Creusa?”
“Rambo... Rango...”
“Raago,” Crystal Clear corrected
“yes, him”
“so?” the Minister turned to Crystal-Clear
“so he should come up and join us, there’s still champagne left”
“tell Rambo to join us, Dona Creusa!” the Minister seemed to be sincerely delighted
the American entered carrying preliminary reports from the initial field visits
his mood of disquiet and the handwritten notes he put forward were worrying, confirming suspicions, the excavations—already underway—hadn’t been surveyed properly, the risks run by the drilling and the tremors it set off, did not meet, not even remotely, acceptable levels of international security
the danger extended, therefore, to the city’s buildings and inhabitants, which even included government edifices, the Assembly of the Republic, the Port of Luanda and the residence of the Comrade President of the Republic himself
Crystal-Clear grasped that the American was mentioning these cases to underline the alert he was issuing
“let’s proceed with calm, Senhor Raago! i believe there is a correct way to do these things, this was studied, it was planned”
“yes, but it wasn’t planned very well”
they hadn’t taken into consideration the recently discovered, and now correctly measured, natural gases, nor the location, which is to say, the exact depth at which the petroleum was found, the nervous American citizen explained, an initially controlled yet threatening scenario was now unravelling into a dangerous combination of apparently unavoidable risks
the tax inspectors served themselves more champagne, Santos Prancha, nervous, opened another bottle of whisky, the Minister answered his noisy cellphone
“gentlemen,” Crystal-Clear almost shouted, “we’re going to put this house in order!”
the tax inspectors stopped drinking, Dona Creusa withdrew, closing the door, Santos Prancha sipped very slowly from his warm whisky, the Minister immediately turned off his phone
“Senhor Raago, i’m going to say something important in Portuguese, but if you don’t understand, sir, tell me so that i can translate”
“okay,” Raago said, apprehensive
“there are no unavoidable risks in this country...” Crystal-Clear spoke so slowly he appeared to be articulating a biblical revelation, “did you understand my sentence?”
“okay, i got it”
“construction has already begun, thousands of tunnels and holes are being dug at this precise moment, the pipes have been purchased, the equipment hired, the machinery of modernity is already in action...”
“i understand”
“and the Comrade President himself signed all the dispatches relating to petrolem exploration in Luanda, all of these people, including those here in this room, are part of what’s called CIROL, you’re one of them, you’re a ‘ciroller,’ as people say”
“i understand”
“therefore, there are no unavoidable events, there are solutions, there is the future! are we in agreement?”
“yes, yes”
Crystal-Clear sat down, pensive, and looked out the window
right there, very close by, noisy excavations were also taking place, and then he smiled, like someone listening to a well-rehearsed orchestra
“now you can ask for your ice, Senhor Advisor,” C
rystal-Clear said
They called Dona Creusa on the phone and completed the ritual of bringing the ice, the tax inspectors drank more champagne, Raago was invited to put away his notes and revise his final report
“now let’s move on to something just as interesting, Senhor Raago, how about all this talk of an eclipse?”
“what about it?”
“Angola really is one of the best places to witness the phenomenon?”
“yes, it really is”
“this country is incredible,” the Minister said, filling his chest with air and his mouth with champagne, “another toast!”
“to the world’s best eclipse!” Santos Prancha brought his sweating body erect.
out in the street there were enormous announcements about the eclipse, they were already calling it, “The Most Angolan of All Eclipses,” the newspapers and radios talked of nothing else, not in terms of scientific explanation, or anything that might enlighten the most superstitious sectors of the population, but above all as a munificent event that could deliver financial and political gains, the Party itself was responsible for some of these placards, which concentrated on a vast gamut of activities it had organized around the distant phenomenon, dates and details, times and places, remained to be confirmed, but Kwanza Sul Province, for example, which after all lay so close to Luanda, was actually one of the best places in the world to witness “the event,” as it was called, among other curious titles that appeared in the headlines during those days
Luanda Brings its Sun Festival to the City of Sumbe, wrote one editorial
The Sun Unvisits Angola for a few hours, wrote another
Angola Greets the Sun, a neighbourhood billboard read
diners with good vantage points offered package deals for lovers, or for single people—“don’t let the sun extinguish your relationship”—that included special drinks with appropriate names—“blessed eclipse,” “half-light martini,” “sonic boom gin,” or even, in the case of traditional drinks, “sunless moonshine”
«this is going to be a party...» Odonato thought while he walked down Luanda’s potholed, raucous streets beneath a burning, pre-eclipse sun
gigantic placards had been hung from the Party’s offices, the T-shirts and sunglasses the Party had ordered from China were already available, and right next to the big screen, which remained lit even in daylight, could be read, The Eclipse is Fleeting but our Party Always Shines!
Odonato wore a light-coloured, long-sleeved shirt because recently, due to the effects of his growing transparency, the heat of the sun bothered him more than it used to, nor did he want to call attention to himself in the streets, he hid his hands in his pockets and avoided making eye contact
in spite of this, various people stopped for a few seconds to look at him, without having any particular reason for doing so, enticed by a firm premonition or an irresistible attraction, after all, the man possessed the least normal body in the world from the point of view of someone who saw him without knowing him, his veins were sharply visible, his bones were starting to stand out in their strange shapes and conjunctions, his skin tone was beginning to lose its vitality as it dissipated into a colour that, though difficult to describe, clearly departed from the normal human or even animal standards habitually used to describe skin colour
this man carried, hanging from his arm, a plastic bag prepared by Strong Maria, with several tender steaks well-done in red pepper and onion sauce, two fried eggs that danced as they bounced against his leg, a substantial quantity of French fries, and raw onions sliced into large rings
this was the detailed special order placed by the the policemen whom Odonato was going to meet, according to what he had learned, these policemen had custody of his elder child, who for years had been called Ciente-the-Grand, a thief well known for his glaring lack of talent and for being constantly pursued in his profession by unusual bad luck
“i’m here to see Agent Belo”
“Agent Belo?” a policeman just inside the station door queried, “is this personal, or is it corporate?”
“i think it’s personal”
the policeman looked at Odonato with distrust
“and that gastronomic fragrance?”
“it’s an order”
“for Agent Belo?”
“in person”
“then it’s a personal matter”
“where can i find him?”
“you see sometimes, comrade,” the policeman relaxed, “even a personal matter can be dealt with by many people, everything can be talked through”
“that’s true, but i was instructed to find Agent Belo, it’s about a detainee”
“we’ve got lots of detainees here, but they move through here fast”
“what do you mean?”
“the detainees are sent here to await judgment, but since judgment can take a long time, we send them on to another county”
“what county?”
“it depends on the detainee, the crime... and the rest”
“what rest?”
“what i was telling you about, comrade, it depends on the rest of the conversation, all matters can be dealt with, i heard that even the eclipse is being dealt with by the government”
“but the eclipse is a natural phenomenon”
“yes, but in any event”
“so where can i find Agent Belo?”
“well, in fact, as i stated at the outset, he’s not here, but he shouldn’t be long”
“ah, so you know where he went?”
“more or less”
“but you said you didn’t know”
“no, i just said that everything can be talked through, fortunately we’re already talking because your order smells delicious... there are times, comrade, when you might be able to find someone who’s better able to help you with the matter that brought you here than Agent Belo”
“you said he shouldn’t be long”
“that’s what i said, but i can’t swear to accuracy on another agent’s business, the truth is he’s not in the station, but i am”
“i came to look for my son, they told me he was imprisoned in this station”
“do you have his name, or a reference?”
“he’s known as Ciente-the-Grand”
“the grain?”
“the grand”
“lots of bad guys have been brought in here in the last few days”
“he’s wounded”
“just a flesh wound, or wounded bad?”
“wounded bad”
“that’s kinda strange... we don’t usually get the wounded ones”
“and at what time does Agent Belo arrive?”
“Pops,” the policeman acted as though he were telling him a secret, “i’m going to tell you where he is, but i don’t want his old man walking around with that heavy bag of food”
“how’s that?”
“the bag stays here and the old man goes to find the agent at the place i’m going to tell you about”
“then what do i give to Agent Belo?”
“you give him the news”
“what news?”
“that the Deputy Superintendent kept the bag”
“you’re the Deputy Superintendent?”
“no, i’m not, Pops, that’s why you’re gonna say it was the Deputy Superintendent, that way nobody hassles me”
“fine,” Odonato agreed, passing him the fragrant bag, “if i come back soon, will you still be here?”
“it depends on the schedule, it’s unpredictable”
“what do you mean?”
“i’m supposed to attend a lecture, right here in the neighbourhood, they’re going to talk about the ‘cirollers,’ the whole excavation maka and all that stuff, you see, i live in the sheds behind a house”
>
“so?”
“they’re saying that with the excavations, when they find petroleum, the property’s owner will also receive a share, but since i rent the sheds, i want to know what happens to me, because of this my rent’s already gone up, you live in a backyard too, Pops?”
“no, i live in an apartment building”
“wow... in an apartment building the division is even more complicated, if i were you, Pops, i’d move to a house, or even some sheds, it’s an ‘investment,’ as a friend of mine says”
“so where’s this house?”
“let me explain, Pops, because it’s in an alley, for anything you need to know, just ask for Granma Humps, everybody knows her”
“thanks”
“you’re welcome, Pops, just excuse me,” the policeman was thinking as he opened the bag, “there isn’t any mustard or ketchup here, is there?”
“no... it wasn’t included in the order”
after twists and turns and questions, to which people replied here with boredom there with a strange enthusiasm, Odonato succeeded in finding Granma Humps’s house
the door of the yard, made from wood that had long ago ceased to stand upright, was ajar, and through the crack escaped an odour of burnt charcoal, and of embers that had been visited often by mackerel shads
Granma Humps, seated in the colossal shade of her modest yard, made the sign of the cross and said something in an incomprehensible Kimbundu, focused on the man’s face without regarding his hands, which Odonato opened as though he were making a corporeal confession,
the man came to a stop after his first steps into the yard, and awaited the old woman’s verdict, a skinny dog—very skinny—fled into the house and the parrot started to talk until the elder-woman ordered it to be quiet
and only then did she smile
“those beasts, too...” she made a terse gesture, grabbed another stool and offered Odonato a spot, “you’d think they’d never seen anyone who was the least bit different”
Odonato walked slowly and, perhaps for the first time, became aware of the limitations his new appearance imposed on a social setting
he sat down without speaking a word, out of respect, since it fell to the old woman to speak first
“did you come to look for a girl?”