Secrets in the Fire

by Henning Mankell

  The cemetery was vast. Its rusted gates hung from cracked concrete posts. Just inside the gates there were small buildings with crosses on them, and inside these there were stone coffins stacked one on top of the other. On each tomb was carved the names of the families who kept their dead there. Sofia was horrified to see that poor people, who had nowhere else to live, had moved into the tombs. They slept and cooked their food between the coffins. It gave her the creeps to think one day that she herself might be so poor that she would be forced to live in a tomb.

  They walked further and arrived at long rows of white headstones. Many of them had faded and fallen apart. Lizards ran about amongst the dried flowers and broken crosses. The cemetery seemed endless. At last the headstones became fewer and they arrived at a wide field where plain wooden crosses were all that marked where the dead lay buried. Lydia stopped and looked around. Then they went on. It wasn’t until they reached the outskirts of the cemetery that they found what they were looking for.

  ‘Here it is,’ Lydia said and wiped the sweat from her face with her head-cloth.

  Sofia looked around, but she couldn’t see a grave.

  ‘Many people lie buried together,’ Lydia said. ‘People who were just as poor as we are. But I know this is the place.’

  They sat in the shade of a tall tree. Sofia tried to imagine that Maria was somewhere nearby, buried in the ground. At the same time she decided that the first money she earned would be spent buying Maria a cross. Not until then she would fully accept that this was where Maria had been buried.

  Lydia began to shake. A long howl broke from her. Sofia began rocking as well and, before long, she found herself wailing too.

  They sat together for several hours, mourning Maria.

  It wasn’t until the sun had sunk towards the horizon that Sofia suggested they think about going back. She had enough money for another truck.

  Lydia slept on the floor in Sofia’s room that night. Sofia had wanted to give her the bed, but Lydia stubbornly refused. She curled up on a straw mat beside the bed with Faustino pressed against her body. The next morning she left. José-Maria had promised her that she could ride on a truck back to the village. Sofia explained to her where to find the market where the trucks were.

  ‘Come home soon,’ Lydia said as they said goodbye outside Hermengarda’s house.

  Sofia still hadn’t mentioned Totio’s visit and his offer of the hut and sewing machine. She first needed to be sure that it wasn’t already too late. After that she could return to the village near Boane. But until then, she couldn’t tell Lydia.

  She waved to Lydia and watched her disappear around a street corner. Then she hurried to Fatima’s house where the birds and the fabric were waiting for her.

  Sofia never needed to ask Totio. He returned to the city himself to ask if she’d made up her mind.

  He came with Fernanda about a week after Lydia had visited Sofia. When Sofia answered that she would love to take over the sewing machine, big fat Fernanda danced with joy. Fatima’s birds were startled and flew in all directions.

  ‘We are going to celebrate this,’ she said and took Totio’s broken hat from him. ‘We are going to celebrate this by buying you a new hat.’

  Totio didn’t say anything. Sofia got the feeling that he would rather have kept wearing his old hat, broken and dirty though it was.

  They decided that Sofia would stay with Fatima for another month. Then she would return to the village.

  Sofia’s last day of work at Fatima’s was over. In her spare time, Sofia had embroidered a small tablecloth for Fatima. On a piece of blue fabric, which she imagined as a piece of the sky, she had embroidered the birds that flew around in their cages and around her head. She gave the tablecloth to Fatima when they parted. Sofia felt shy and kept her eyes lowered as she handed her the present. Fatima looked at it and exclaimed with pleasure.

  ‘How beautiful it is,’ she cried. ‘This will always remind me of the time you spent here.’

  Then she took the needle out of the sewing machine Sofia had worked with.

  ‘Take it with you,’ she said and gave it to Sofia. ‘Then you’ll remember Fatima and all her birds.’

  The next day, Doctor Raul and Dolores came to Hermengarda’s house to pick her up. Sofia promised Hermengarda she would come and visit her as often as she could.

  The rain had stopped on the day they left the city. Sofia sat in the back seat and she wound the window down to let the wind blow on her face. Now she was no longer afraid to return home.

  When they arrived, Lydia and Alfredo were standing outside the hut.

  For a brief moment, Sofia almost expected Maria to come running to meet her.

  Then she remembered that Maria only existed inside her.

  But she felt as if she’d finally come home.

  ** Means: What beautiful birds

  **Means: Yes

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SOFIA WAS UP before Lydia woke.

  She crawled carefully over Alfredo, fetched her legs from where they leaned against the wall, and went out past the straw mat hanging across the doorway.

  Outside it was still dark. Sofia strapped her legs on, first the left one, and then the right. She suddenly remembered she’d forgotten to bring the crutches from the hut. She got up, took hold of the hut wall and pulled the straw mat aside. She tried to be as quiet as possible, because she wanted to be gone before Lydia woke up. She fumbled around in the darkness for the crutches. Then she let the straw mat fall back in its place and headed off through the darkness. The first stripe of dawn was not yet visible in the sky. It had rained during the night. The road was still hard, which made the going easier for her. But when the wet season arrived, it would turn the roads into waterlogged mud. Sofia knew she would have difficulties getting around when that happened. The crutches would get stuck in the mud, and she could easily lose her balance.

  She got to the open space in front of the school, where she turned right. By then she could see the pink of morning in the eastern sky. Somewhere close by a cock crowed, and a goat bleated in reply.

  There was always a strong smell just after rain. She breathed in the fresh air. It reminded her of the village where she had lived with Maria and Muazena and Hapakatanda.

  She hadn’t forgotten the promise she and Maria had made each other. One day they would return to the village where Muazena’s and Hapakatanda’s spirits lived on and waited for them.

  Now she would have to return without Maria.

  But it would still feel as though Maria was with her.

  Totio was already up and sitting on the wooden bench beside the sewing machine when Sofia came hopping along on her crutches. Sofia felt a little uneasy. What if he had changed his mind?

  When she went up to him, he nodded and made room on the bench so she could sit down. Neither of them said a word. Sofia stole a glance at Totio. He seemed to be absorbed in his own thoughts. The sewing machine was covered by its brown wooden lid. From inside the hut came the penetrating sound of Fernanda snoring.

  ‘The day will always come when life changes,’ Totio said suddenly. ‘You know it’s going to happen, but it’s still a surprise.’

  He leant across the table and removed the wooden cover. Then he ran his hand over the black machine.

  ‘I’ve been using this machine for thirty-five years,’ he said. ‘How many kilometres of thread have run through the needle into trousers, dresses, shirts and caps, I don’t know. But the thread has run through my life. And now it’s over.’

  Sofia could tell that Totio was sad. She guessed it was probably difficult to grow old and not be able to work any more.

  But she didn’t ask if that was why he was sad. She didn’t say anything. The sun was already up.

  Totio bent down and picked up something that had been lying under the bench. He gave it to Sofia. It was a square piece of hard, white cardboard. Someone had written on it SEWING STUDIO. OWNER: SOFIA ALFACE.

  ‘When you arrive t
omorrow, the sign will be up,’ Totio said. ‘When you come, my sign will be gone. And we will be gone, Fernanda and I. The hut is yours. And the sewing machine. And all the customers.’

  Sofia felt her heart beat faster. She was sweating with excitement.

  So it really was true after all. She was going to take over the machine and the hut. Tomorrow.

  ‘Remember that satisfied customers will come back,’ Totio said. ‘Unhappy customers will come only once and then never return.’

  ‘There are so many things I still need to learn,’ Sofia said.

  ‘That goes for me too,’ Totio said. ‘You have never learnt everything.’

  The snoring from inside the hut had stopped by now. Soon Fernanda appeared. She yawned and knotted her capulana around her big body.

  ‘I think you should know it was Fernanda’s suggestion,’ Totio said. ‘When I realised my eyes weren’t able to see any more, I said I was going to sell the sewing machine. But Fernanda thought it better that you continue the work, and send us money from time to time.’

  Fernanda sat down on the bench. Sofia was squashed between her and Totio.

  ‘A sewing machine is for sewing,’ Fernanda said. ‘You shouldn’t sell it.’

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Sofia said with embarrassment.

  ‘You’re not going to thank us,’ Fernanda said. ‘You are going to sew.’

  Sofia stayed with Totio and Fernanda the whole day. She helped them pack. They were going to leave early the next day. First they would go up to the main road with their bags and baskets. Then they would catch a bus and travel for many days to distant Mueda, where they had lived before. During the day, many people from the village came to say goodbye. Totio talked the whole time about what a good seamstress Sofia was, saying they should come to her when they needed something made or mended.

  They said goodbye late in the afternoon.

  ‘I’ve spoken to a boy who is going to watch the sewing machine tonight,’ Totio said. ‘No one will steal it.’

  And that was it. Fernanda patted Sofia’s cheek, Totio took her hand in his. It was creased, but strong. He held her hand for a long time.

  Sofia hobbled home on her crutches. She was going to miss them a lot.

  After they’d eaten that night, Lydia stayed outside. Sofia realised there was something Lydia wanted to talk about. The fire was burning and Sofia looked into her mother’s face. Though Lydia was still young, she seemed tired and weary. It was as if she’d already grown old, although she should still have been able to bear many more children.

  ‘I don’t have many words,’ she said. ‘But I have many thoughts. When I saw you and Maria on that path I thought my life was over. Everything had been taken away from me, my husband, Hapakatanda, my village, my children. But you survived, and now you have your own home and a sewing machine. You have two new legs and people in the village speak of you with respect. I believe that both Hapakatanda and Maria are watching you. And they are just as proud as I am.’

  ‘Don’t forget Muazena,’ Sofia said.

  ‘She was a witch,’ Lydia said. ‘I was scared of her.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ Sofia said. ‘And neither was Maria.’

  ‘In any case, I wanted you to know that I’m proud of you,’ Lydia said. ‘Through you, I have been able to hold on to some of my happiness.’

  Sofia had never heard Lydia speak like this to her before. It felt both unusual and strange. But it made her happy.

  Lydia went to bed. Sofia had already packed her few belongings, so she remained by the fire. She soon heard that Lydia had fallen asleep.

  Sofia sat looking into the flames. This time she could see all the faces clearly. Hapakatanda was there. Sofia suddenly saw herself as a very small girl. She was being held high above the ground and Hapakatanda was showing her the sun. Muazena was there. Maria was there. Maybe it didn’t matter whether you were alive or dead. You still belonged to the same family.

  She understood, now, what the secrets of the fire were.

  It was there, in the fire, that she could meet all those who belonged to her – whether they were alive or dead, whether they lived close by or far away. Everything could be found in the fire.

  Sofia didn’t know how long she stayed sitting by the fire. But several times she laid on more wood to make the flames blaze. This was the last night that she would sit by this particular fire. She would be leaving early the following morning. And that evening, she would light her own fire for the first time.

  It was a big moment, an important moment.

  She looked at her legs, her friends. They had a long way to walk, through many days and through many cycles of the moon.

  Sofia got up early next morning. Lydia was already awake. They felt self-conscious as they said goodbye in front of the hut.

  ‘We’re living in the same village,’ Sofia said. ‘We won’t be far from each other.’

  ‘Even so, I feel in my heart that you are moving away from us,’ Lydia said. ‘I need time to get used to that.’

  She gave Sofia a basket of tomatoes as a going-away present.

  Sofia walked with a bundle on her head. It was difficult to keep it balanced, since she had to keep looking down to watch where to place the crutches. It took time, but it worked.

  When she arrived, the first thing she saw was a sign on the tree next to the hut. SEWING STUDIO. OWNER: SOFIA ALFACE.

  She had to take the bundle off her head to look at the sign properly. It shone in the sunlight.

  ‘Sofia Alface,’ she thought. ‘That’s me. No one else. Just me.’

  A boy was sitting next to the sewing machine. He came over to Sofia and helped her with the bundle. Sofia entered her new home. Fernanda had cleaned it, and everything was tidy and newly swept. Sofia sat on the squeaky bed and looked around. Apart from the bed, there were only two chairs and a rickety table. But the roof was intact and wouldn’t leak. And the straw walls wouldn’t need to be remade until next year.

  ‘This is Sofia Alface’s house,’ she thought. ‘The one who has taken over Totio’s sewing machine.’

  She went outside and sat down by the sewing machine. She lifted off the wooden cover. Then she found a reel of thread, fastened it to the spool and licked the end.

  She got the thread through the eye of the needle at her first try.

  She was ready. Now she could start working. Then she began to worry that no customers would come.

  But they came. And the first was José-Maria.

  When Sofia noticed him on the road she felt shy and didn’t know what to say. What if he thought she was far too young to be having her own sewing machine?

  But Jose-Maria behaved just as he usually did. He pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and nodded at her.

  ‘I have a pair of trousers that need mending,’ he said. ‘But I need them by tomorrow.’

  He gave her a parcel wrapped in newspaper. Sofia unwrapped it and spread out the black trousers. A seam had split. It would be easy to mend.

  ‘I can do it straight away,’ she said.

  ‘It’s all right, so long as they’re finished by tomorrow,’ José-Maria said. ‘Am I your first customer?’

  Sofia blushed and nodded.

  ‘I think this will go well for you, Sofia,’ he said. ‘But don’t forget that you have to continue school. At least until you can read and write and do sums. I’ll speak to Filomena. A couple of classes each day.’

  Sofia mended his pants as soon as he left. When she first started treadling the machine, she was afraid that it wouldn’t obey her. Would it miss Totio? But nothing went wrong. The thread ran and the needle pricked as they were supposed to. Later, when José-Maria’s trousers were ready, she couldn’t help patting the machine, just as she’d seen Totio do.

  The boy who’d been guarding the sewing machine during the night was sitting in the shade of a tree. He watched Sofia the whole time. Whenever she looked at him, he lowered his eyes.

  ‘Who are you?’ So
fia asked, when several hours had passed.

  ‘Fabiao,’ the boy said.

  ‘Why are you sitting here doing nothing?’ Sofia asked. ‘Why aren’t you at school? Why aren’t you watching the goats? Why are you just sitting down?’

  Fabiao shrugged.

  Sofia didn’t ask any more. A woman arrived who wanted her dress let out.

  ‘I’ve become so fat,’ she complained. ‘I can’t get into my clothes any more. Look at this dress. That’s how thin I once was.’

  Sofia compared the dress to the woman who stood in front of her. Suddenly she found it difficult not to laugh. She had to bite her tongue to keep the laughter down. The woman looked at her in confusion.

  ‘Can’t you answer?’ she asked angrily. ‘If it had been Totio, he would have started working on the dress straight away. I don’t understand how he could leave his sewing machine to a kid.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Sofia said.

  ‘If it doesn’t look good, I won’t pay,’ the woman said.

  ‘It’ll be good,’ Sofia replied. ‘It will be ready tomorrow.’

  ‘I’d like to see it before I believe it,’ the woman said and waddled away.

  Once Sofia was on her own again, she couldn’t help laughing. Then she began to work. The sun was already high in the sky. Sofia started letting out the dress. The boy under the tree had disappeared. Sofia worked for hour after hour. Even though her sweat ran, she barely gave herself a break for a drink of water. The village dozed in the afternoon heat, but Sofia worked on. The sewing machine whirred. The boy by the tree hadn’t returned. It was nearly dusk when Sofia realised that she would not only manage to let out the dress, but she would do it so well that even the strict Totio would approve of the result. She decided to finish the work early next morning, folded up the dress and stretched her back. She hadn’t eaten anything all day. She went into the hut and fetched some of the tomatoes she’d brought in the morning.

  When she came out again, the boy had come back. He was standing next to the sewing machine.