Land of Black Clay

by Jose Louzeiro

  “He’d do it well, too. He was one of the best linotypers at the Journal of Commerce.”

  We ate, talking about various things. Alice was opening up as never before.

  “I planned to be a teacher, but then thought I’d study nursing. I ended up not deciding on anything. I read a lot and, if my father had continued to be among us, I would have become a reporter myself.”

  “And your relation to me—what do you think?”

  “I’ll always like you, happen what may.”

  “Even if I stayed here, half washed-up—the reporter the big-time newspaper canned?”

  “What’s the big deal? The paper doesn’t want you, you find something else to do. Who knows—maybe this idea of writing a book will be your way?”

  “I like the way you show such confidence in me.”

  “And I, for the doubts that make you so sincere.”

  I was amused. From where did that woman derive so much zaniness?

  “Don’t you see me as an insecure, even boring guy?”

  “I haven’t had time to. For the time being, I like what I see. Let’s hope it’ll always be so.”

  We laughed. The waiter served our meals. I proposed a toast. Alice had ordered a guaraná soft drink, while I had a beer.

  “Could it happen that Soares will be able to prove those guys weren’t former military police?”

  “If so, it’ll be the first big setback for Judge Fernandes.”

  “How did Sister Genoveva wind up in the middle of all this?”

  “I don’t really know. I think the prosecutor discovered her.”

  “What if she’s wrong?”

  “I very much doubt it. Romão seems to me to be a stable person. He’s not the type to fall for the first story to come along.”

  The bar was located on a street behind the courthouse. The part in which we sat was an outdoor extension covered with cane fronds. At some point we noticed that people were passing by more frequently, appearing agitated. A man came into the bar and began to speak with a truck driver who was eating with two shirtless helpers.

  “Judge Fernandes tossed them growers right in the hoosegow. What a dude!”

  “What happened?” asked the driver, his mouth full.

  “The police just brought in ever’ big shot around and put them in the defendants’ box. There’s so many people in that courtroom it’s like the Pineapple Festival at the Alvorada Club.”

  “Could it be Judge Fernandes succeeded?” I wondered, while Alice eyed me nervously.

  We pushed our plates aside and I called the waiter and paid the bill. For a while I held Alice’s hand and she clung to me. One block before reaching Gentil Lins Street the tumult assumed serious proportions. Cars were stuck and a truck for transporting oxen blocked the road. In front of it I could see two police buses and numerous peasants, the cause of the bottleneck.

  “What’s going on?” I asked a wizened, red-haired elderly man.

  “Judge Fernandes ordered all the bigwigs rounded up. Now I want to see if they’re still going to have the nerve to persecute us.”

  I thanked him and continued in Alice’s company. We moved forward as best we could. To get to the courthouse door was a complicated task. A police officer tried to bar the way but I said I was Judge Fernandes’s assistant and Alice worked in the clerk’s office. I mentioned the names of Dona Inês and Dr. Jansen.

  Inside, the crush of people was even worse. The corridor was impassable. We forced our way through, I pulling Alice by the hand and she letting herself be guided. At certain locations there were heavily armed police; in the courtroom itself the security was much greater. The accused remained seated, now divided into rows. In the first remained Batista, Colonel Barros and Juarez Cordeiro. The second contained Wenceslau and Júlio Martinho and Luiz de Paula; the third held Aquino, Santos, and Carvalho. The people, who knew these great landowners, could not believe their eyes. Although the judge remained attentive to the proceedings, demanding silence time after time, it was difficult to ignore the murmuring that came from every corner. Dr. Jansen went up to Judge Fernandes and brought him a pill, which he took with a sip of water. The session, begun at nine o’clock in the morning, was continuing without any sign it could be interrupted. The prosecutor stood up and strolled before the jury box and an audience triple the normal size even though the courtroom was relatively small. By leave of court many chairs had been placed in the corners, and for anyone unable to get one, there was standing room.

  “I’ll take down whatever I can,” said Alice.

  “I’ll take pictures.”

  I left Alice. She stayed in a corner near the jury panel. From there she could observe all the events of the trial. Once again I squeezed in among people, and took the first photos. Judge Fernandes looked at me and smiled in satisfaction. Romão began to speak.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. This trial has become quite unusual because of the circumstances under which we are working. It happens that events have moved precipitously and we have been alerted to an event that could occur imminently. A meeting has taken place in the house of Mr. Aquino. Its objective is to throw into turmoil not only this trial but indeed the whole city of Sapé. In that house, located in the Penedo neighborhood, the executive committee of the Lowland Group and the Syndicate of Death met. And we know more: the leadership of that clandestine entity is now composed of defendants Carvalho, Azevedo, Martinho, Aquino, Castro and Agamenon. We still do not know the point at which these landowners formed the organization and what their ties are to the death squads that operate in the Jungle Zone—squads that have killed farmworkers for more than twenty years.

  “This morning, two ex-military policemen—Antônio Alexandre and Francisco Pedro da Silva—testified that they killed Teixeira. They described their actions in detail. They said how much they got from Batista; they spoke of their subsequent flight and persecution, for the objective was to eliminate them as well, to deep-six them as it were. These two men were brought to court by Sister Genoveva, whom all admire and respect. Yet still, ladies and gentlemen, the learned advocate Soares alleged that the witnesses did not convince him; he suggested Lieutenant Colonel Santíni be summoned to testify about the incident. As we all know, Colonel Santíni was commandant of the military police from 1960 to 1966 and therefore can confirm or deny whether the witnesses belonged to that agency.

  “I should inform you that the invitation to the colonel was extended and he has promised to appear here, in fact today. We also know that, in the last meeting of the partners of the Lowland Group, it was decided that some one hundred armed thugs would try to set off a panic in Sapé so that this trial would be interrupted and the courthouse razed. These gentlemen, however, did not count on the creativity of this court in having all defendants appear together, rather than in separate trials. As a result, present today are the main landowners of the Jungle Zone. I am certain that none of them would like to be burned to death. Besides having much to answer for before this court, they will certainly keep their roughnecks at a distance so that justice may be had without trauma or disruptions of order. We have already communicated with the state government asking for more police reinforcements to be sent, and we’ve made the same request of the Ministry of Justice in Brasília. Hence in accord with the oddities of this case, we are not following standard criminal procedure—this trial has been innovating in that area as well. We must keep in mind nevertheless that, when trying cases charging heinous crimes, practiced with the connivance of people who wield great economic power, you can’t be too careful. A parallel power has arisen, beginning with the Lowland Group, whose principal wing is the Syndicate of Death. This is the main theme of our work; this is why the nine defendants are here, those most liable for the killing of Teixeira, Fazendeiro, and Fuba. To this crime must be added disrespect for authority, the illegal use of weapons, sexual violence against women, land invasions, and aiding and abetting the obtaining of title to land under false pretenses. The men who are here consider the
mselves lord and master of the Jungle Zone; all others are slaves; they earn a starvation wage and often don’t even get the legal minimum. Workers who complain lose their jobs; if they go to union meetings, they are murdered, for one of the objectives of the Lowland Group is to block workers from organizing. That’s why they killed Teixeira and liquidated Fazendeiro and Fuba; that’s why Alves is marked for death and Almeida, president of the Sapé Rural Workers’ Union, was shot last year.

  “These land barons and the other members of the Lowland Group must understand that this country can properly function only insofar as it maintains juridical order and all other bases of power function in harmony toward the goal of the common good. We have no criticisms of those who enrich themselves by their own work. But we condemn those who thwart the poor and make them even more miserable, so that they can gain wealth illicitly. Nevertheless, we do not wish to ridicule anyone, nor do we seek publicity for its own sake. Our goal is peace in the Jungle Zone and by extension in the township of Sapé. This region does not belong to a criminal group; it is part of the state of Paraíba, one of the most promising in this country. That is what I have to say for now.”

  Judge Fernandes rapped his gavel several times. The audience remained seated.

  “Silence!” he ordered.

  His facial features looked rejuvenated; he seemed much better although he had had not so much as a snack. But his determination worried me, even though he was succeeding handsomely in holding the reins of a vast task. That business of anticipating events, of ordering that future defendants be sought now, was an unprecedented stroke and perhaps not a legal one. The words of Soares, who was becoming ever more agitated, remained to be heard.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, members of the jury. President Figueiredo speaks regularly of political openness, of this country’s return to democracy. But it seems to me that this court disregards his words. Thus it orders the illegal detention of honest and dutiful people, important members of our most important social class, even as the prosecutor continues to speak of rights and of legalities. In truth, however, we are flirting with arbitrariness. I do not recall ever having participated in a jury trial where the accused have not had their alleged guilt properly determined. Here it is different: suffice someone who does not like Colonel Barros or Júlio Martinho to so much as complain about them, and they become defendants. This is a juridical aberration and against it I protest vehemently….”

  “Learned counsel for the defense,” interrupted Judge Fernandes: “This court is not known for its authoritarianism, and we are not as reckless as you have just insinuated. But we have our methods and, faced with local conditions, we are following them. Please be certain of one thing: we brought these people here, in advance, because they must respond jointly and severally for innumerable crimes. If in your opinion the witnesses are insufficient as far as they go, please be assured the next ones will be better and will bring proof of the accuseds’ guilt under the law. Please proceed.”

  “I did not mean to imply that the court is authoritarian, Your Honor; I merely wished to emphasize that we are acting at the margins of the criminal law. We are, so to speak, putting the cart before the horse. What if, say, the witnesses have nothing to say about Mr. Aquino? If Colonel Santíni should fail to recognize Alexandre and Silva as former members of that valorous agency the military police? Those are the comments I wished to make, while we await the witnesses’ appearance.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Judge Fernandes, “we’ll take a half-hour recess. Let a snack be served to the defendants in the holding room.”

  I tried to stay near Alice as people filed out of the courtroom. The police regrouped around the nine defendants and waited for the room to empty. The prosecutor and Colares spoke with the judge. Dr. Jansen joined them. I pulled Alice along so we wouldn’t lose time. The room having cleared, the accused also were leaving in the guards’ company. I took some pictures as Martinho eyed me balefully.

  “Do you think Lieutenant Colonel Santíni will come?” asked Walfredo.

  “I think so,” said Judge Fernandes. “We’ve already done the hardest part. To bring together nine land barons in here is no joke. We’ve got to make hay while the sun shines.”

  The judge went into his chambers, and Dona Inês ordered a cheese sandwich and orange juice for him.

  “What effect do you think their testimony will have, Jorge Elias?” asked Judge Fernandes as we settled in.

  “Well, at first they’ll try to deny it. It’ll be up to us to reply in kind when they do. Should that happen, in a convincing manner, the defendants will be demoralized. For the time being they’ll be certain that the witnesses will not be able to affect them.”

  “That’s what I’m wondering about: proof capable of wiping out their morale.”

  “Does Sister Genoveva know any relatives of the military policemen?” I asked. “It’d be quite a task to track them down.”

  “Difficult. They came from Natal,” explained Colares.

  “The judge needs to eat and rest a bit, folks,” said Dr. Jansen. “I’m here to distract you so that his Honor can go the next round.”

  We laughed and got going. The corridor had emptied. Alice put her arm on my shoulder.

  “I feel happy. It’s the first time this has happened to me so completely—as though I had become lighter.”

  “Happiness or love?”

  “Both. Among other things my meeting you has been helping me to see that it’s good to be alive, to participate, to fight for what one wants, without that fight carrying me away to a sort of egocentrism. To search for my father is a true struggle, sure, but it’s on an individual level. It pertains to me and my relatives. And the peasants who died or disappeared for all this time? Who worried about them? Who denounced their killers? I think Judge Fernandes is a fantastic person.”

  “Be careful,” I joked. “I’m liable to get jealous.”

  We kissed. Once, then again. I felt my body cling to Alice’s. I felt like taking her to bed.

  “Know what I think. Maybe I can come up with a witness against the landowners.”

  I didn’t like Alice’s pondering that subject just at the moment we were embracing.

  “How?”

  “I’ll talk to uncle Dilermando. I’ll explain to him what’s going on, the spin the judge has been able to put on the case. Then I’ll ask him to come testify.”

  “Against whom?”

  “About the military police. He may know who they are.”

  “What if Soares should publicly announce that Dilermando and the gangster Azulão are one and the same?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t want to broach this subject, but you’ve made me. Dilermando has been lending a hand to Colonel Barros out at Alvorada Plantation. He’s considered a trustworthy henchman. I myself, when I arrived, went on the colonel’s blacklist and Azulão was put in charge of rubbing me out.”

  “It’s a lie!” exclaimed Alice, her face etched with fear.

  I grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. For the first time they seemed disoriented.

  “Learn to see things as they are. I’ve no reason to make this up, nor to hurt you. I love you truly, but you need to know the truth about your uncle.”

  Alice’s eyes filled with tears. She continued to look at me as if disbelieving what she’d heard.

  “It can’t be. No relative of ours has ever worked for that type of people.”

  I leaned her head against my shoulder and she began to cry silently. I ran my hand across her head, feeling her fine, soft hair.

  “I have an idea. You tell him that there’s only one path to rehabilitation: to prove in public that he let himself become a gangster because he was looking for his brother who’s said to be around here, a cabrocó.”

  “I’m afraid he’ll be offended.”

  “Why? You’ll be offering him a chance to clear his name.”

  “Maybe so,” said Alice sadly. “And I wh
o thought my uncle was sacrificing himself, vanishing for days looking for his brother.”

  “Don’t be too hasty to judge. Dilermando was fighting for what he wanted. To work as a gangster in the service of a powerful man like Colonel Barros must have seemed to him the best idea. It was only later that problems arose and the guy lost his way, letting himself get trapped. But according to the intelligence I’ve gathered, he was always on the right side. Father Juliano, for example, holds him in the highest esteem.”

  Alice brushed my face with both hands. My attraction to her continued. She drew close and kissed me.

  “Were it not for you, I don’t know what I’d do, faced with this problem. How could uncle Dilermando have gotten his neck in such a noose?”

  “The world’s a complicated place. What’s important is to not lose one’s vantage point. On that subject, the most extraordinary thing that’s been happening in this trial is Judge Fernandes’s single-mindedness. Few people are so determined. He knows how to maneuver, don’t forget—he can suddenly make a move capable of surprising that band of tricksters. To advance the arraignment of the defendants was a master stroke—he disarmed the gangster army and left the Lowland Group at an impasse.”

  “I think I’ve just thought of a good proposal for uncle Dilermando.”

  “What’s that?”

  Alice brushed her hands over my tousled hair.

  “He could begin by telling the truth: he’s Colonel Barros’s hireling. He earns a lot. He carried out this task and that. He got mixed up in all this because he wanted to find the whereabouts of his brother Elindo, who disappeared years ago from Recife. He learned he’d been brought to Sapé, where they threatened to turn him into a cabrocó. He’d tell everything just so—what he did and when he quit doing it. Too bad he talks so little. He seems either to be lazy about using words or to mistrust them.”

  At that moment, Alice’s face lit up as was liable to do at happy moments.

  “What is it?”

  “I think I’ve found the solution.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll be the witness. My uncle can stay at my side; I’ll speak for the two of us.”