Palm Trees in the Snow

by Luz Gabás

  To convince Daniela she was wrong, Clarence had opened her heart and confessed her own romance with Iniko. Daniela had bombarded her with questions, wanting to compare the two relationships. She was especially interested to know if the cultural differences with Laha could become too much … Maybe Daniela had thought about changing Pasolobino for Malabo? Just in case, Clarence recounted all the difficulties she would have to face, one by one, in great detail. She wanted Daniela to think about what she was leaving behind and the problems she would face in adapting to a country like Guinea, assuming that she and Laha decided to settle there, even if only temporarily. How could she be happy under those conditions?

  It was very clear to Daniela, even if it seemed to Clarence she was only repeating Laha’s words, there was much to do in an emerging state, a country with new infrastructure and big plans for the future. To end, she had roundly stated, “I can’t be happy anywhere without Laha.”

  If things were moving that quickly, thought Clarence, Daniela could not really delay talking to Laha.

  She took a large swig from her glass.

  Both of them were in Pasolobino, and it was Saturday.

  Could she have told him yet?

  Spring took much longer in the highest part of the Pyrenees than anywhere else. The first green never arrived in Pasolobino before May. In April, there were no flowers, only fields shorn by the last snows. The only hint of the new season was the sun rising a little earlier and setting a little later.

  With Laha, it did not matter to Daniela whether it was cold or warm, whether the flowers began to adorn the meadows or not, or if the birds were livening things up with their trills. But the days and nights seemed so short.

  Laha had arrived on Thursday night, and by Saturday, they still had not sated each other. Daniela had not found the right moment to tell him they could be cousins. Neither of them wanted to think of anything other than being together. The following day, Laha would leave, and they did not know when they would see each other again. They had given each other until summer to make definitive decisions on how to approach their future. For the time being, they clung to their intimate moments as if it were the last time they could be together, as if some unexpected twist of destiny could threaten their happiness in each other’s arms.

  In the days before the return of life to the valley, time had stopped, and the expectant calm was altered only by the beating of their hearts. Daniela’s hand traveled over Laha’s chest, halting occasionally on his heart, waiting for it to slow. Laha turned his head, and Daniela raised hers to look at him. His forehead was beaded with sweat. Daniela thought he had the most beautiful face she had ever seen, with his special green eyes and caramel skin. Beside him, her skin appeared even whiter. She squeezed against his body as hard as she could and stayed in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth.

  “Can you imagine what our lives would have been like a hundred years ago?” Daniela asked in a sleepy voice.

  Laha laughed at the unexpected question.

  “Well … in Bioko, I would get up very early to hunt antelope in the jungle or fish in the sea in my canoe.” He freed himself from Daniela’s embrace and put his hands behind his head. “Or I would have a job on one of the cocoa plantations … In any case, my beautiful wife, Daniela, would stay in the house and look after the vegetable garden and the children.”

  Daniela lay beside him, bent her elbow, and cupped her head in her hand. “You’d probably have more wives.”

  “Probably.” He grinned slyly.

  Daniela gave him an affectionate pinch on the arm.

  “In Pasolobino, I would do the same. But meanwhile, my darling husband, Laha, as well as hunting and fishing, would be in charge of work in the fields and the animals. He would fix up the house and the sheds, prune trees and get firewood ready for the winter, milk the cows, open up paths in the snow, and would rest for a little while to regain strength and”—she put a lot of emphasis on the final words—“satisfy his only wife.”

  Laha burst out laughing. “This reminds me of a very old Bubi story, from the precolonial period.” He cleared his throat and began speaking slowly: “Many years ago, in a village called Bissappoo, lived a young married couple. Everything went fine at first, but as the days passed, the woman cooked and the man did not come to dinner, so she put the food in bowls and stored it in the dryer. When the husband returned, he went to bed without eating. This went on for days and days. Finally, the woman could not take it anymore and went to the wise old men of the village to denounce him. The men counted more than a thousand bowls, but did not make any decision, so the woman decided to go and find her husband. She went to the edge of the village and found him there, in the company of other men. Her husband called to her. She stopped and looked, but did not answer. He called to her again and asked, ‘What has he done to you, he who eats and doles out?’ The woman answered him, ‘Nothing, nothing. I am not the husband. You are the man. The food is in the dryer. It has been there for four days and is dry and with cobwebs. It is now dried out. It is now dried out.’”

  Daniela remained silent for a moment. Laha lay on his side to face her. He put his arms around her and drew her toward him.

  “I’ll never let your food go dry,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I think I’m happy to be living in this age,” she joked. “I don’t like the idea of cooking all the time.”

  Daniela got up on her knees and started to bite and caress all of Laha’s body, from his neck to his shoulder blades, down the middle of his back. She signaled him to turn over with a light touch so she could continue, although she now began at his feet and rose to his groin.

  Laha began to moan in pleasure and stretched out his hand to stroke Daniela’s soft hair, swaying like a fine curtain on his delicate skin.

  All of a sudden, he felt her stop.

  Laha opened his eyes and raised his head a few centimeters to look at her. Daniela remained still, looking at something very closely.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, wanting her to continue.

  “This mark here.” Daniela spoke in a whisper. “When I saw it before, I thought it was a scar, but now that I’m looking at it closely, it’s like a pattern.”

  Laha laughed. “It’s from scarifying, like a tattoo. My mother did it to me when I was very young. It’s a Bubi tradition. Many people make deep incisions, especially on the face, but in the colonial period, the tradition was dying out and my mother didn’t want to disfigure me.” He paused.

  “But … it’s … ,” sputtered Daniela. “It looks like … I saw one …”

  “Yes, it’s an elëbó, a small Bubi bell to protect me from the evil spirits. Do you remember? I gave your father one for Christmas.”

  Daniela had gone pale. Was not that instrument one of the clues that Clarence had told her about? Had not that man Simón told Clarence to look for an elëbó? She felt her chest tighten. She looked up. “My father has a tattoo exactly like it on his left armpit. Exactly the same.”

  Laha was stunned. “Well, after so many years in Bioko, he probably decided to get a scarification—”

  “It’s the same!” Daniela interrupted him. “Tell me, Laha, why did people get scarified?”

  Laha listed the reasons to her aloud. “Let me see … As an artistic expression, as a differentiating mark from other races, for therapeutic reasons to get rid of pain …”

  Daniela shook her head.

  “… to mark a person for some specific behavior, for love … The slaves also scarified themselves in one form or another to be able to recognize each other when in exile …”

  “To recognize themselves … ,” repeated Daniela in a low voice. She had a terrible premonition. She remembered the piece of photograph she had found on the floor in her father’s room. “Wait a minute.”

  She went out and soon returned with the photograph and gave it to Laha.

  “Do you know the woman and child?”

  Laha sprung out of the bed. “Where did
you get this?”

  “So you know them …”

  “The woman is my mother!” His voice trembled. “And the child she is holding is me.”

  “Your mother and you,” repeated Daniela, hanging her head.

  Laha went over to the chair where he had hung his trousers and took his wallet from the pocket. He opened it and took out a piece of a photo of a man leaning against a truck.

  Daniela did not have to look at the photo for long to grasp two things. First, the man in the photo was Kilian. And second, the piece fitted like a jigsaw with the one she had.

  She wanted to cry.

  Laha began getting dressed.

  “This can only mean one thing,” he said in a strange tone, as if the dream they had been living together had become a nightmare.

  When he finished getting dressed, he began walking from one side of the room to the other, possessed by a fury that Daniela had never seen in him before. He kept raising his hands to his head in despair.

  Just then he realized that Daniela was watching him in a mixture of confusion and sadness. She was still naked. On seeing her in front of him with no clothes on, a shiver went through his body, and he felt like screaming out.

  How could she not understand the seriousness of the situation?

  “Daniela, for the love of God!” he pleaded. “Get dressed.”

  Daniela went over to the wardrobe and took out some clothes. Her whole body was trembling.

  “There’s something I haven’t told you, Laha … ,” she finally allowed herself to say. “Up to a few minutes ago, Clarence and I suspected that Jacobo was your real father.”

  Laha came over to her and grabbed her by the arms so hard she let out a yelp.

  “The two of you thought we could be related and you hid it from me?” Laha shook her violently. His green eyes had become a harsh gray.

  “I wanted to tell you during this visit, but it was never the right moment,” she murmured, letting the tears roll down her cheeks. “I was worried about how you would react, of course, but I was convinced that even if we were cousins it wouldn’t change anything.”

  “But don’t you realize that you and I are … ?” he shouted.

  “I don’t want to … ,” she whispered between her teeth. “Don’t say it.”

  Laha was hurting her.

  And it was not his strong hands gripping her arms, but the terrible suspicion that what they had discovered was true. She would never be able to forgive her father! He should have warned them …

  She just wanted to cry, cling to Laha’s arms, feel his body next to hers, and wake up from the nightmare.

  “You’re hurting me, Laha,” she managed to say in a weak voice.

  Laha felt gutted. He had never reacted so violently before. Daniela’s arms were fragile. Daniela was fragile. For a moment, he had given in to his rage.

  Daniela did not speak. She just cried without making a sound. He had to calm down.

  He felt an urge to sweep her into the enormous bed.

  Whose did she say it was? Her great-grandparents, Kilian’s grandparents.

  His own great-grandparents!

  His head hurt. What was he supposed to do now?

  Daniela raised her head toward him.

  “Look at me, Laha. Please …”

  Laha did not meet her eyes. He squeezed her in his arms with the despair of someone who was hugging the person they most loved for the last time.

  “I have to go, Daniela. I have to go.”

  He went over to the wardrobe, took out his suitcase, and packed. Neither of them said anything. Outside, after weeks of calm, the north wind began to howl.

  Daniela remained sitting in the same position for a long time after she heard the sound of Laha’s car disappearing down the rear track. If she had scrubbed her skin with the thorn-filled branches of the hawthorn outside, she could not have felt a deeper pain.

  Only when her subconscious had accepted that Laha was so far away that there was not the slightest possibility of him turning around and coming back to her arms, only then did Daniela strip the sheets from the bed while screaming in anger.

  She took the sheets, went down to the kitchen, opened a bag, and put them in it.

  She would not throw the sheets away.

  She would burn them.

  She had to burn the threads that had absorbed the sweat of an incestuous passion.

  Still, despite the evidence, Daniela still refused to believe that Laha was her brother.

  “You’re looking beautiful tonight!” It was the first time Clarence had met Julia in the city. Julia was wearing a light chiffon patterned dress and elegant high heels. Nothing like the thick clothes she wore in Pasolobino. Since the party had started, they had not had a minute together.

  Julia smiled. That night, she was happy. She accepted a glass from the waiter and took a sip.

  “Today is all memories …” Her eyes shone. “Manuel would have enjoyed it a lot.”

  “Even my mother looks to be having a good time,” joked Clarence to dispel the woman’s sadness about Manuel. “She doesn’t have many opportunities to get out to parties like this.”

  “Yes.” Julia sighed. “It’s just like the Santa Isabel casino.”

  The music began to play. Jacobo was the first on the dance floor. Carmen followed his lead with the precision acquired after years of dancing with the same partner.

  Julia watched them. She wondered if they had had a happy marriage and felt a pinch of nostalgia for what could have been but never was. If Jacobo had not been so stupid, she would be in Carmen’s place now. She took another sip. It was ridiculous to have those thoughts at her age. Jacobo had probably ended up making the right choice. Carmen seemed to be a loving and sensible woman capable of tempering Jacobo’s mercurial character. Julia might not have succeeded in that.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen my parents looking so well,” said Clarence. “In that suit, my father looks twenty years younger.”

  “Your father was very handsome, Clarence,” said Julia. “You can’t imagine.”

  Clarence had promised herself not to mention Laha’s paternity. She understood that it was a special night, and she did not want to ruin it. Nevertheless, Julia’s comment brought an image to mind.

  “Knowing Laha, I think I have a fair idea …” She noticed that Julia frowned. She added, “I’m not at all surprised that Daniela has fallen in love with him.”

  “What did you say?” Julia went completely red. Her hand went to her chest as if she could not breathe.

  Clarence got a fright.

  “What’s the matter, Julia? Are you not feeling well?” She looked around her for help, but the woman caught her by the wrist.

  “But that’s not possible,” murmured Julia.

  “They’re not the only cousins in the world to have fallen in love.”

  “I need to sit down, please, Clarence.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if I got a doctor?” She took Julia over to a comfortable chair away from the racket.

  “Tell me, Clarence. Do your father and uncle know?”

  “I think my mother is the only one who suspects something.”

  Julia buried her face in her hands and began to sob. “Oh, Clarence … You have to know. I thought you were going in the right direction. I’m afraid there has been a terrible mistake.” Julia looked at Clarence with her eyes filled with tears. “I should have told you before.”

  Clarence had a terrible feeling. She looked down at her knuckles, white from clenching her fists.

  “Laha’s real father is Kilian. Your uncle sent money regularly to take care of him. At first, he did it through my husband and the doctors from the humanitarian organizations. When Manuel stopped traveling to the island, it was Lorenzo Garuz who passed on the money. He gave it to an intermediary so Bisila was not associated with any white man. I should have told you. I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “I was always referring to Dad! The day you were in ou
r house with Ascensión, you told me that Dad had also suffered …”

  “I was referring to what happened to Mosi! Oh my God!” Julia got up and quickly walked away.

  Clarence remained sitting with her face in her hands, crestfallen. Minutes later, she retired to her room, saying that something she had had at dinner had not agreed with her. She called her cousin, both the home phone and the cell, but got no answer.

  She lay on her bed and broke down crying with all her might.

  Not even the journey from Malabo had felt so long and painful as the journey from Madrid to Pasolobino on Easter Sunday. Clarence had to make a real effort to make sure her parents and uncle did not suspect that she was suffering from more than just indigestion.

  While the others unloaded the car, she ran to Daniela’s room.

  Daniela was sitting in a corner, surrounded by dozens of tissues, with her knees in her chest and her hair tossed over her face. In her right hand, she held a piece of paper. She raised her head to look at Clarence with her beautiful eyes swollen.

  She had not found anything to prove it was not true, that it was a mix-up, an inexplicable and damned twist of fate.

  “He’s gone,” Daniela repeated over and over again between sobs.

  Clarence sat down beside her and gently put her arm around her shoulders.

  “How could he abandon him? What was he thinking?”

  Daniela raised the piece of paper she was holding in her hand. She could barely contain her rage when she added, “Laha has the same scarified elëbó that Dad has on his left armpit. Do you want to know where Laha has his? My God! I’m embarrassed even to think about it!” She rubbed her temples as thick tears started to roll down her cheeks again. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to face him … No. You’ll have to do it. You’ll talk to them, Clarence. Today. Right now.”

  “I’ll try.”