Two Sides of Me

by Nora Sarel

  “Did you see? I got you a meeting with your mother tomorrow,” Liam bragged as usual.

  “It’s seems too easy,” Gadi replied, fearing his wish wouldn’t come true, then continued, “actually, in Brazil anything can happen.”

  “Even I am excited for tomorrow,” Liam declared.

  It was only Ido who complained, “What are we going to do until seven?”

  “Porto de Galinhas beach is a good place to clear our heads,” Liam suggested.

  “I think we should first go eat,” Ido said.

  “What are you talking about? It’s only ten thirty, eat, now?” they replied.

  “You really do have a serious dilemma, always looking what to argue about,” Omri interrupted sarcastically.

  “It’s also a way to pass the time,” they laughed.

  Gadi, who stood beside them, was still focused on what had happened in the church and what Father Carlos said. He imagined Nessia coming in every month to check whether she had received Dona Anna’s letters, and her disappointment when occasionally not receiving them. Why hadn’t she come to church the past few months? Why didn’t Father Carlos look for her? Maybe something had happened to her? Gadi couldn’t let these thoughts go and join his friends. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and snuggled into it. However, he then felt something soft hiding deep in his pocket. He reached in hesitantly to try and guess what was it that was hidden inside the black silk lining of his coat. When he couldn’t figure it out, he pulled it out and was astounded to find a handkerchief he had only seen as his grandmother’s. She was the only one who used these, how did it wind up in my pocket? The last time he had worn this coat was at the airport and hadn’t needed it since, Gadi recalled. Maybe that was when Grandma’s handkerchief fell into my pocket? By accident? On purpose? A pleasant smell of the soap bars in Grandma’s wardrobe spread slowly into his nostrils. The scent of her tears overwhelmed him. Oh, Grandma, how I miss you, he thought.

  The four friends stood in the middle of the street on top of the Olinda church hill. Around them the passers by bustled, every now and then hearing the bus doors creaking, opening and closing, unloading tourists rushing into the church. However, Gadi, in the midst of this commotion, sank deep into the handkerchief’s scent and sniffed it, as if it were only he and his grandma there.

  “Hey, Red, what are you dreaming about now?” Liam woke him up. Gadi quickly regained his composure, wiped his tears with the handkerchief and shoved it back into his pocket, hoping no one had noticed.

  “OK, I think we should go to one of Recife’s famous beaches. We deserve some rest,” Gadi tried taking part in the group.

  “This is the best beach in Pernambuco,” Liam declared when they arrived at Porto de Galinhas. They grabbed some chairs scattered across the beach and brought them closed to the water.

  “This is awesome,” Liam yelled and stretched out his arms and legs. Ido and Omri felt the same. Only Gadi was preoccupied with his thoughts.

  Floating in the blue turquoise sea were small wooden rafts with a white sail on a pole. They were crafted by local fishermen. This colorful scene soothed them. For a moment it seemed Gadi was recovering.

  “Let’s go sailing,” Ido suggested.

  “A great idea,” Omri replied and the four turned to one of the raft owners and asked to join him.

  “This raft is called jangada and is also used for fishing, but mostly for tourists,” Gadi explained, showing them once again his knowledge of Brazil.

  “You finally came back to us, that’s the way I like you,” Omri said, slightly concerned.

  However, the jangada owner didn’t give them time to speak and urged, “Vamos– come.”

  Ido, who was especially excited, lifted his hand holding the beer can and said, “Here’s to you, Capitan.”

  “Here’s to the boats coming,” Omri recited a poem they had learned at school, and immediately burst into laughter when he remembered their literature teacher and her dramatic classes.

  These moments were filled with joy and relaxation. The sun shone on their faces and they willingly enjoyed it, the waves rocked them and the raft owner sang to them in Portuguese a familiar Brazilian melody,

  Minha jangada vai sair p’ro mar

  Se Deus quiser quando eu voltar do mar

  Um peixe bom, eu vou trazer

  E a Deus do céu vamos agradecer

  Liam joined him enthusiastically, but in Hebrew, he sang about a floating dinghy, there all the sailors fell asleep. Gadi kept silent.

  “Sing, it takes us home,” Liam said. They listened to him and began singing energetically. Gadi closed his eyes that merged with the color of the sea, and although he tried, he couldn’t open them. His hallucinations sailed away with the jangada and their songs. I need to wake up, he thought. If I don’t, I’ll disappear into the great sea, like the small basket floating, a young child in it. “In the ark is little Moses, a soft and tiny baby…” Who were these fishermen peering over it and whispering one to another? Whose is the baby? Who lost a baby? Perhaps it belongs to that girl standing on the beach? “A tiny gray-eyed girl praying in the distance… she stood on the beach in the dark, an excited fishermen’s girl… accompany me, my distant star… do not leave me… someone is thinking of me….” The songs his friends were singing mingled with his hallucinations. He was drowsy with exhaustion, allowing him to sail away to other places.

  It was only Omri’s shout, “Hey, look, the sea has moved, our chairs are further away!” that brought him back to reality.

  “Nothing has moved, it’s just the low tide. What, don’t you know? Well, how could you? You only know the Mediterranean Sea,” Liam mocked him.

  “There is a rise every twelve hours followed by a fall. This phenomenon mostly happens in oceans,” Ido tried to explain and calmed Omri down. “That’s why our chairs are no longer on the shoreline but far away from the shore. Look, the floating kiosk on the raft, selling snacks and beers in the middle of the sea, is now right on the shore,” he added.

  They had just sat in their chairs when a slim, dark young boy stood in front of them and asked what they would like to order.

  “What’s good here?” Gadi asked Liam.

  “They specialize in sea food, how about we order a fish casserole?” Gadi suggested and all agreed. “Moqueca de peixe por favor.”

  The casserole placed on their table was overflowing with food. It had bright colors and smelled spicy and well-seasoned with the ocean’s scent. The white rice was spotted with red and gray dots of fish, and green parsley and cilantro leaves. The scent of garlic, onion, and coconut milk, mixed together, filled the open air. “I actually miss the smell of my grandma’s pastries,” Gadi said and they all laughed. The white sand their feet had dug into, looked more like a painting of a maiden with long golden hair, unlike the curly locks of the girls on the Porto de Galinhas beach. Vendors selling hammocks, seashells, paintings, fabrics and snacks passed by them one after the other, announcing their merchandise, every now and then stopping someone and trying to convince them to buy some. Liam bought a hammock after a long bargaining where he succeeded lowering the price significantly. Gadi bought a jewelry box decorated with seashells.

  “Who is it for?” Liam asked, “For Adi?”

  “No. For my mom. A souvenir from the part of Brazil she hasn’t seen. My parents haven’t been here,” he explained to them. “They have only been to Curitiba and Rio” Gadi didn’t bargain. This custom was strange to him, he felt he was stealing the vendors’ livelihood, some of which were young children sent to help support their families. “Hey, Red,” Liam called, and Gadi turned to him. He thought that Liam would probably say something like, “If you weren’t adopted you could have been a vendor on the beach…” however, he then noticed Liam wasn’t actually talking to him. He was calling at a vendor who had just passed and was selling shelled peanuts. Gadi had wanted
for some time to speak to Liam about his disrespectful behavior, but eventually didn’t. Liam was somewhat strange, he thought to himself. On the one hand he’s a friend I can count on, but on the other he’s rude and sometimes says hurtful things. I wonder if we’ll still be friends when we go back home?

  At eight thirty they rang the bell on the gate’s doorpost. They didn’t hear the ring but waited patiently for someone to open and let them in to see Father Carlos. The street was silent, the gate locked and no tourist walked around. The diamond stars studded in the dark night skies surrounding the hill of Olinda lit the church’s domes. A silent priest, wearing a brown robe, creaked open the metal gate, were it not for its squeak, they would not have noticed him emerging for the dark. He led them silently through the church hall and to the thick curtain, then all the way down the long sarcophagi hall and straight to Father Carlos, who had been waiting for them at the entrance of the room.

  “Shalom,” he proudly used again the only Hebrew word he knew.

  “Shalom,” they all replied.

  “How was your day?” he asked, however, observing Gadi’s expression he didn’t wait for their answer and went straight to the point. “Look, Bernardo, I’m very sorry, Nessia has moved to another city. Her children stayed behind in Recife but she left.”

  “When?”

  “About two months ago.”

  “Where did she go? Why?

  “I’m sorry. Her children say she left to work at Salvador de Bahia. But they aren’t sure if she’s there or not because she hasn’t called them yet. She also promised she would send them money, but she hasn’t sent any so far.”

  The realization he had siblings slowly seeped in.

  “How old are they?”

  “Grown up children. Three boys and a girl. The eldest is twenty years old and the youngest is ten.”

  “Do they look like me?”

  “Only the eldest has eyes like yours. Yes, he looks like you. All children are educados– well-behaved. The two eldest boys work and support the younger ones who are still in school.”

  Gadi hungrily hung on to every word. “She hasn’t called them in two months? Please give me their address,” Gadi begged.

  “I can’t help you, I can’t. I don’t think her children know about you and I don’t have the right to tell them about you without Nessia’s consent.”

  “Does she have a husband?”

  “Nessia doesn’t currently have a husband. She’s divorced.”

  “And she left her children behind?” Liam interfered.

  “You, again!” Omri reprimanded him, Liam apologized and fell silent.

  Gadi was crying. “Please, let me meet my siblings, I came all the way from Israel. I want to go back with something, I want to meet my siblings, please.”

  He took out his grandmother’s handkerchief and wiped the warm tears dripping down his cheeks. Ido and Omri cried too, and even Liam’s eyes had become teary.

  However, Father Carlos stood by his decision.

  They left the Carmo church discouraged and quietly paced to their ancient hostel.

  When they opened the door to their room, they sat on their beds and talked. Despite the hour and being tired from all that had occurred that day, no one was planning on sleeping that night.

  “I’m staying here until I meet my biological siblings,” Gadi said with equanimity. “You can move on to your next destination, I don’t want to ruin your trip. I don’t know how long it may take, I’ll wait until that woman has an address,” he said, his voice shaky.

  “We’re staying here for now. In any case, we were planning on staying here for the carnival in northeastern Brazil, and for a while after it.” Omri said.

  “No. I feel uncomfortable with you changing your plans for me.”

  “We’re not changing anything or doing you any favors. We’re staying because that was our plan,” Omri said decisively.

  “Liam, how about you?” Ido asked.

  “I’m staying. It works for me too.”

  CHAPTER 17

  During the following days they visited and toured all Recife’s and its surrounding towns’ sights. Although Gadi took part in these tours, he was unable to take in all the sights which impressed his friends. He kept searching for people whose eyes had a similar color as his. Whenever he found a ‘suspect’ he boldly asked them for their mother’s name. He made sure to explain why he was asking. Yet, none of the interviewees seemed to be angry, they all answered patiently.

  “You’ll see, I’ll find her eventually,” he said to his friends, who tried dissuading him from this habit, which had become an obsession.

  Since they didn’t have a tour guide, Liam took Gadi’s travel guide. “Come, learn something,” he said and began reading out loud, “Recife is one of the largest port cities in Brazil. It is located on an estuary where several creeks meet, over islands connected by many bridges, making the city’s nickname ‘America’s Venice.’ In the heart of the city’s historic and ancient quarter, called Recife Antigo, one can see ancient colonial buildings side by side with modern ones. This is where Recife’s ancient Jewish community resided, and where the first synagogue in the continent of America was established. Today it is home for the history of the Anusim- the Coerced Jews Museum.”

  “I’m dying to get there,” Gadi said.

  “If the Anusim interest you that much, why not?” Liam was quick to answer and pat his shoulder. He didn’t know a thing about Angela from Rio de Janeiro or Gadi’s Brazilian last name.

  One day, while strolling alone the Boa Viagem beach, among the bathing beach decorated with natural rocky reefs and tall buildings of the densely populated city, they saw capoeira dancers. They came closer and joined the tourists surrounding them, watching the hypnotic war dance. Shirtless capoeira dancers could be found on every street corner in Recife, dressed in wide white pants and colorful belts, dancing their special dance.

  “I don’t know why they call it a dance, it’s not really a dance as we know it,” Omri said.

  “So, what would you call it, acrobatics?” Ido asked.

  “Yes, it’s both acrobatics and gymnastics. They perform handstands, back flips and dance moves,” Omri replied.

  Ido wouldn’t let it go. “You just called it a dance, make up your mind, you keep contradicting yourself.”

  “Enough, we want to watch! Stop arguing, cut it out!” Liam yelled.

  Close to the capoeira dancers stood two musicians, one playing the berimbau, an instrument made of a sound box and a single string, while the other played the tambourine.

  “Their movements aren’t arbitrary, every move has a meaning,” Gadi showed his knowledge, “that is why it’s considered a dance. How else would you call it?”

  “Gadi the know-it-all knows nothing,” Liam mocked him, “If you don’t mind, it’s a slave dance. They wanted to prove that using only dance moves they could easily fight. That’s why it’s called a war dance, slaves from Africa brought it with them, and with time it became a Brazilian dance. By the way, there are plenty of capoeira classes in Israel,” Liam said and the argument was over.

  “How long have you been traveling the continent?” two Israeli backpackers, who were standing around the capoeira circle, asked them and then blurted out a few more questions so fast they seemed to have merged with the capoeira’s rhythm. “Where are you sleeping?” “How much does it cost?” “Where will you be during the carnival?” “Where have you been today?” Such encounters always instill a sense of national camaraderie.

  “How did they recognize we’re Israelis?” Gadi asked Omri. “We’re dressed like everybody else, look like everybody else.”

  “Israelis sniff each other out like well-trained hounds. Besides, only Israelis speak Hebrew,” he replied.

  “You should come with us tonight to the fort,” the tall one suggested, “they’r
e having a witch ceremony, like a voodoo ritual – they call it Macumba.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s trance dancing, it’s worth seeing.”

  “Sounds good, we’ll come,” Gadi promised.

  “No way, why would we go to a religious witch ceremony?” Ido suddenly interfered, “have you lost your mind? What will we do there?”

  “I feel like going. It’s probably like the Candomblé we saw in Rio on New Year’s Eve, remember?” Gadi insisted. “If you don’t want to, just don’t come. I’m going.”

  “So, what, you’re going alone?”

  “I’ll go with whoever wants to come.”

  “Ok, I’ll come too,” Ido came around.

  “Just don’t wear colorful clothes,” the two warned them, “you have to wear white.”

  “When we were in Rio people also wore white, apparently it’s customary in religious ceremonies.”

  In the evening, dozens of youths arrived at the Five Corner Fort – forte das cinco pontas. They began climbing up the stairs in impeccable order and disappeared into one of the rooms. “This fort was built during the Dutch rule in the seventeenth century to protect the city from the Portuguese,” Gadi whispered, not to disturb the silence.

  In complete darkness they climbed up to the fort’s second floor and leaned on the unchiselled stone wall. In one of the rooms’ entryways, under a torch, stood a large dark-skinned man, who was hard to see as he was swallowed by the darkness, only his eyes gleaming. He checked those entering the room.

  “No entry. We don’t let strangers in,” he said and gave them a threatening look.

  They wanted to give up and go back to their hostel, however Liam would not let it go, “Please, we won’t bother anyone.”

  His pleas were unsuccessful. “I told you, no means no. We only allow people from our community.”