Yeah, and there came a time where they went to live in a countryside where me, as his uncle was the Foreman. Still kid almost seven, Marcelo could already ride on combine harvester. He remembers of those crops that went on up to where his sight reached. Soya, corn, wheat. Only those who have seen, know that the great sensation is to glance from a distance, contemplating that green, the wonderful sight, like there was not an end.
One day, he was on a soya combine harvester, when his uncle shouted of something from the other machine. Marcelo was beside to his father. At that moment he did not understand well. Later on he would get that.
He saw his father running and together with his uncle and another boy starting another running in the middle of the crops. His father got back without the glasses, his uncle all scratchy and the boy was bringing an animal that looked like a dog, dragged and dead. Then he came to know that it was a wolf. I mean, in Brazilian version of American wolves. It was called bush dog.
He longs those times.
Oh, how ungrateful we are with times of our lives. When kids, we want to grow up, when we grow up, we want to get back in those times when we were kids. But, if we can’t become kids anymore, we should at least remember of what has gone by. We don’t need to pay for this yet. Not yet! Maybe won’t be like this in future.
Jumping in time, making the watch pointer getting forward, we reached up to his school time.
First grade or Second, we don’t know exactly. But there he was, among other pupils, highlighting in reading and because of his stubbornness in which the school should let the students be in the library all day long.
He often stayed there, hidden, sitting on the floor, reading the Grimm tales, or then the Narizinho reigns. He might have been seven years old. It was this time he felt for the first time, the joy of love. But it was that innocent, sweet, naive love. Where the simple girl’s glance, would make the boys to be able to say that she was his girlfriend. At this time, he met Lucimara. He never forgot her, maybe because of the first kiss, we never forget. She had a tic. Her eyes never stopped blinking. They could maybe stop, but the impression that was left in him is that they never stopped. But this never took away his charm. Today when he closes his eyes, he still sees her. The two of them sitting on a wooden bench, hands in hands, talking ingenuously about the future. In a certain time he was much more daring and kissed her lips. The school Supervisor saw them, they finally were at the background and had to punish them. They studied together during two years. Those were moments of great caring and simplicity which only the children, in pure naiveté of sex could allow themselves. Then, one day she left. Her family moved to another town.
To avoid other boys to speak bullshits against him, Marcelo said that he had quit the courtship with the girls. Since his childhood he was always good at inventing stories. Stories, not lies. His face reddened and people used to find out. So this time, it was not different. He could not disguise the nostalgia.
But this was a time for new discoveries, for acting without elaborated thoughts. And when he woke up, could not miss her so much anymore. This doesn’t mean that he forgot her, seeing that until today he still remembers of her.
Soon, his Family also moved to another town. His father was a seller, and lived from one corner to another. And this made their lives become harder, of suffering and self-denial for his mother. She followed her husband, wherever he went. And with them they went with the fruits of this union. They were seven brothers. One had died on his birth. He was born before Marcelo’s. That’s why he always remained with the idea that he was not well accepted to be born. He could not explain this feeling, he could only feel that there was a grudge of his mother against him. Maybe as someone who was seen to have taken the place of the late brother. The was the third born, while he could have been the fourth. His parents were gone, and he never minded to find out that if he was right.
Well, one day, when he was eleven years old, he got the chance to go in a big town. A crony of his father, wanted to take him and his brother, the second one named Carlos, to live in big town, with this crony’s family. They would put them in a soccer school. The two boys were overjoyed with this news. This was all they dreamed.
Two
But this joy did not last long. His father man of small and unsuccessful business, but with heart full of emotions, said he could not feel well living away from his children. He said that they were still very young and so on. Things that made his crony to forget the boys. This was one of his first life’s defeat. But the like for football, was always present. This was every kid’s dreams those times. They had no project for the future at all. What was the twelve years old countryside boy’s project? And then this was the most fashionable play. At school the Physical Education was football or basketball. They exercised on an old football field of cement with rusty crossbar and with a basketball table all crooked. Football was the dream of a better future. Marcelo and his big brother were the best in the plays. At that time his brother was not so good at all. Marcelo was one of the most wanted to play football. He might have had twelve or thirteen years old. But, maybe influenced by the comics reading, he really didn’t know at all, he always preferred defending the weaker team. And even so, whenever they did not win, they could give hard work to the adversaries. He thinks that this kind of behavior made him make lots of friends, even at the rival football clubs. after the game, they always came to greet one another.
These football games were played on a football pitch in in the middle of a field who the boys themselves created. The force of the hoeing and scythes reduced the bushes into fields of meadow. Meanwhile even the older young men, helped them to set the bars. Many times these bars were not so straight, but this was not a problem at all. The pleasure of a football friend could take him away the perfectionism tendency. What mattered was to run after the ball, to give a good dribbling and then score a goal and then run to his friends to be hugged as the prize.
Once upon a time, they could even have a coach. An old man who liked the plays and decided to organize football club. Vila Pontal, this was the team name.
Their days were like of any twelve or thirteen years old boys who grows up in the countryside of this beautiful country. During the school days, he used to wake up early, had his breakfast and went to school. Right at school, he could already talk to his friends what they would be doing in the afternoon.
After lunch they left their homes and met at the field. Sometimes with a very hot sun, they could find a way to run away hiding from their parents up to a stall on the river bank to refresh themselves. They used to stay there a good deal of time, and when they got back they passed through a farm . sugar cane, watermelon or mango. They always came back from the field their meeting place, having with them in their hands some of these things. And right there with their teeth, they could peel the fruits. They sometimes arrived home with the lips cut, in attempt of barking the sugar cane.
In that place, they could live there about six years. Without it was the local that marked more his childhood, or teenage, whatever.
He continued to read everything, he could also borrow some magazines and many of naked women and took them away secretly at home. Then began to lose his innocence.
At this time he also played hide and seek. But this is different from other plays. Then could set a cottage covered with tree twigs and leaves of pine tree. Actually they used to be well done. There was a boy among them who was considered as the leader.
Enedino. Angry boy, and bold. He liked to hunt, to wade through the woods and he got back only at night fall. At that moment he could invent some wood revolvers with those television antenna, alligator type, and tied it with an elastic. He made like a catapult. The ammunitions were the sinamao balls. That hurt a good deal. They could divide themselves into two groups. The winner was the guy who could destroy the adversary’s communal hut. One day there could even be there a fire in ones of those huts. Many times they dragged themselves on the ground and in the woods, without
caring about the reptiles, through the colonial grass plantation to run away from the chasers.
And the running they had are uncountable. After that they passed through a cane field. They must have been seven kids. They came back through the stream all of them with their shorts wet through and without t-shirts. And the cane leaves may cut, I don’t know if you dear reader knew about that, they cut depending on how you hold them. In certain moment they heard a screaming. It was the planting owner. They got away running in the middle of the of cane field. Breaking the branches, stumbling, falling and standing up again to run at high speed.
As they arrived at the football pitch, they could see that they were all cut. Some had deep cuts. Mainly in the hands and legs. The worse was looking for an excuses to their worried parents. But the childish ingenuity doesn’t lose much to the adults. This was not a problem.
Marcelo was then in the phase of discovering the sexual desires. But he used to be very shy.
He met Sandra when he was at seventh grade.
Maybe eighth.
Definitely eighth grade of the primary old school. Sandra was a happy beautiful girl. Very beautiful. She had a cut black hair, with a small highlights falling over her eyes. She had also two wonderful dimples on her face when she smiled. A round face, where the cheeks got rosy when she’s touched to a delicate situation. She had already a body of a grown up woman, while he, just a small boy the way they used to call him. He was skinny, small, but very intelligent, maybe not so intelligent at all, but many people used to say that.
The first school year, he didn’t pay much attention on her. Her sister seemed to be more adequate to Marcelo. She was younger than Sandra, and she, two years older than him. That’s why the preference to the sister could be much more obvious. But things didn’t happen like that.
Sandra’s father was a dentist. The only one of the town. Maybe this is not so relevant to be told here, but the fact is that there was difference on their ways of living as we can see in this simple fact.
When he started studying the following year, he enrolled himself for the single course of the secondary school in the town. Teaching. Sandra was enrolled also in the same class. But he did not like the course. He complained about it at home. He used to say that he’d quit studying. He felt himself humiliated, put down by his fragile physical constitution, before some of his classroom fellows. He also feared the traineeship. Yes, many guys scared him saying horrors about the students’ behavior. They said that, soon he would be going for classes in a single room. This was the chaos for Marcelo.
He thought hard on that without stopping. What could he do to make grown up students to respect him? At that he was fourteen years old but he looked like as someone who was only eleven. This even created psychological barriers difficult to break now, but later, very late, when he lived alone for the first time, he broke off those barriers.
He heard from the second grade teaching students speaking about the difficulties in the classrooms for the student teachers and trembled. Soon he had to face another identical situation. His parents encouraged him to continue studying, but the real encouragement came from Sandra.
It was on a school day. He was working a group task by himself. Everyone had already gotten their pairs. As he had arrived late, because the water buff truck delayed on the ferry, (it came from Mato-grosso crossing the Paraná river) he was left alone. He did not complain. When the signal rang for the class change, he saw himself left alone in the classroom. The teacher of the following class could not come, so they could have a classless moment at that time. The teacher who was his friend, allowed him to give his work later.
He was there, alone submerged in his thoughts when she arrived:
‘And then? What happened to make you arrive late?’ he heard that voice of an angel, soft and refreshing as if it was a heavenly song in his ears.
‘The driver lost the first ferry, and we had to wait for the second one. So it was all a rush. I haven’t eaten anything since the lunch time. It gave me time only to arrive home to take a bath and then come running to school!’ he said controlling himself.
He could not believe that. Sandra was right in front of him more beautiful than never. With a smile crossing her lips. Her round face seemed to be more soft. He did not know what to say again, he stammered something. So she smiled again and sat down beside him. And then he felt for the first time the perfume of the desired body in him. Inebriated, he did not realize what they were talking about.
And then, he realized that he was telling her about his dilemma, if he would continue studying or not.
‘And what will you do if you stop? Will you continue to be a laborer forever?’
‘I don’t know!’ this is the problem! I like to study, but... you know... I am too small... I’ll look like more one student than a teacher.’
‘Well, don’t be stupid! All you need is what you have overflowing! The intelligence!’
‘You think that?’ he asked amazed by her word.
‘Of course! Just see teacher Ernesto’s case! Everyone mocks him, they call him daft and other names, but he is one of the best teachers of the school. Have you ever imagined how boring geography classes would be without him?’ ( and the same Ernesto was a very short guy who had a goatee like Mr. Visconde of Sabugosa).
‘Maybe you’re right!’ he said smiling. She thought he was smart. That something very sweet to hear about.
‘Of course I am right! Besides, I would miss you so much.’ That was just like a dream. Did he listen that well?
Timidly Marcelo smiled with his head down. Before standing up, she still held his hand, wishing him a good luck in his school work. Of course she gave him some tips. In fact they were the best students in the class, but they were not enemies. Thanks goodness.
The fact is that, after that he thought of her often. Deep down inside his heart, was not the like on the course which kept him at school. It was Sandra’s. The will, the desire, anxiety he had to see her. Whenever his eyes did not meet hers for one day, that looked just like he felt a hole in his chest. The weekends were just a torture for him.
Then, the Mondays, were the happiest days for him.
At this time he was already studying at night. By day he worked as a laborer collecting wools on the other side of Paranasão (the way people used to call the Paraná River), at Mato Grosso.
Later, he got a job on a bedding, which belonged to some believers.
His thoughts were divided between Sandra and studies. Did she really like him? Maybe she’d said that just by saying, for being very educated and kind. He must have been making fool of himself. But the truth was that he could not keep her out from his eyes. In the class, he always wished a glance or a smile a headed word from her. And when she went toward Marcelo, with a faint smile or words, that looked like as if happiness was something exclusive. Like a refreshing fine rain falling upon his head. However they never had an opportunity to talk for a while without anyone turning up and interrupt them.
Thus, the time rolled on and with the ruminating of those feelings which day after day, night after night devoured him. The inevitable blow was when one day a Sandra’s classroom friend came up all happy, shouting from four windsurfing corners that Sandra was dating a guy whose name was Daniel.
My God! How that it hurt! Only the one knows! That was like a burning spear piercing his chest. He did not how to react. His classroom mates began to laugh, played with her. He participated, timidly, as always. But the pain was so much that only the lovers hearts and not loved in return, can understand that. He looked at her and could see a red face, quite a shyness, another part happiness for what the friends said.
Marcelo had to find an excuse and ask to go home. That was the first time he’d slept at the open air. He could not stand at what was happening. That was not fair. Why? Then like a revolted with his chest burning, he walked around the small town. The moon was the witness on the soap opera scene where he played the lead role in, right before the Lima Duarte
character wade through the woods like an angry dog for the teacher’s love lived by Maitê Proença at the Motherland Savior. And he was only fourteen maybe fifteen. He did not think of anything. Snakes, birds or wild night beats, he did not care about anything. With his heart full of sorrow he suffered his second defeat.
This chapter about Sandra, it could even serve for a good book himself, but to reduce the impact and the wariness in the reader’s eyes, we jumped for some time after, maybe for a year, already at the third grade of teaching Education, when he was about to finish his studies. At this time had already overcome the fear of being rejected for his physical aspect, and he did his internship classes regularly. And he’d already lost the title of ‘the best student in the class’. He did not care about that anymore.
He had tried to forget about Sandra and date another girl. He might have been fifteen years old now. This girl who he was going out with, was the relative of the bedding owner where he once worked some time ago.
They evangelicals practitioners.
Seventh-day Adventists. He could even go to some of their church meetings. Although his family were catholic practitioners and he enroll himself to go to study at one seminary, he found no problem in that. This girl belonged also to a more well off family than his, and this could prejudice a little bit their relationship. Although he was with this girl, he could hardly forget Sandra.
And then, as I was saying, when he almost finished his studies, on September that year’s, Marcelo’s family, moved away from that town. They went to another city much further in the south, for about 180 kilometers from the town where Sandra lived. No matter how much hard he tried to disguise, he never forgot her. In fact he could not, because she’s been the apples of his eyes during every nights and sometimes even during the days, when they interned together in the same class. Yes, somebody knew already about his feelings for Sandra, for it’s a burden of suffering to carry them all by himself. He’d become someone’s friend in the class. His name was Jose. Jose Martins. He was short like him, however he was much more self-confident and this made him to become friends. Step by step he trusted him and he trusted Marcelo.
Ivair Antonio Gomes Page 5