by Nora Sarel
“Half an hour is a lot for one hall.”
“Ok, let’s ask this man approaching us,” Bernardo agreed.
“Excuse me, sir, we’re looked for a senador named Francisco de Oliveira.”
“Look for his for his name on the doors,” he replied and disappeared.
“Is this senador Francisco de Oliveira’s room?” they asked when they opened the door with a sign indicating they had found what they have been looking for.
About 10 secretaries lifted their eyes. “What do you need him for?” one of them asked.
“We have some business with him,” Bernardo replied.
“Have you scheduled a meeting?”
“No… no…” they mumbled.
“So, you won’t be able to see him today, sorry. What does this concern?” she kept questioning them, yet they fell silent.
“Come on, answer already,” she scolded them, and then softened and asked, “Are you twins?”
“No, just brothers,” Gadi said.
“Are you Brazilians?”
“Of course,” Bernardo said sternly.
“Ok, it’s just that when he spoke, he sounded foreign,” she pointed at Gadi. “Anyway, Francisco de Oliveira went home for the weekend. He’ll be back on Monday. He has a meeting at ten AM, you can meet after lunch. Does he know you? What are your names?”
“Bernardo de Oliveira.”
“You both have the same name? how strange.” She cleared her throat.
“We…” Gadi wanted to explain, however, Bernardo pulled his arm and Gadi took the hint.
“OK, I’ll let him know you dropped by. Come back on Monday. The exit is this way.”
They stood defeated on the path leading to the congress. This attempt was unsuccessful, but they were hopeful for the next.
“Where will we stay for the weekend? We’re stuck at Leo and Orit’s?” Bernardo expressed his dissatisfaction.
“I have a suggestion, let’s take a trip around the area. In the evening we’ll look at the ‘Lonely Planet’ guide.”
With their heads down, they walked across the government offices avenue, passed the cathedral, until they reached the central park. It seemed empty, only two well-equipped bicycle riders leaving it. They turned right. A large crystal displayed on a tower top, drew their attention. The more they came closer to it the more it shone, they could only see its halo.
“What’s that gem there?” Bernardo asked one of the young people about to enter the weird pyramid-shaped building, on which the gem was displayed.
“It’s a spiritual church, the crystal sends good vibes to whomever enters its gates and purifies them of all evil. It’s a real experience,” he replied in detail.
“Just what we need, Come, let’s go inside, maybe it will make us feel better,” Gadi suggested.
“Come after me and do as I do,” the young man invited them, as he followed the line of worshipers. They walked on circles traced on the floor in two opposite and symbolic colors, white and black, right under the huge crystal dangling inside, spreading light at all those who entered. When they paced, first on the black circles symbolizing evil, their heads were down. When they reached the middle, they walked back on the white circles, feeling pure as if they have been cleansed. Their heads were held up high, facing towards the crystal which bestowed upon them its power, their faces shone. “Now we are pure,” Bernardo said, “I freed my anger for Francisco and am now ready to meet him.”
“I actually let go of my anger towards Nessia,” Gadi said. “She’s a poor woman. She did everything because she believed in him and he turned his back on her. He made false promises. After he threw her out, what could she have done? She really is miserable.”
They rented a car and went on a weekend at the Iguaçu Park, a tropical park replete with waterfalls and animals. They saw tweeting parrots who filled the trees, armored armadillos, huge lizards pacing slowly on the soft grass between the bushes, an ant eater whose long nose was stuck in an ant hill, and hundreds of butterflies fluttering around them.
On Sunday they made their way back to Brasilia. Gadi could already sing most of the songs playing on the radio. “I have to teach you some songs in Hebrew,” he said to Bernardo.
“I’m ready.”
“What song should I pick? Ha, I know, listen carefully and repeat after me.”
Gadi then translated the words of the song and the rented car had become their stage. Both sang enthusiastically and their voices echoed through the Brazilian wilderness.
“Let’s switch, I’ll drive.” Bernardo said.
They stopped the car, right under a sign that read ‘Jerusalem’, beneath it a small arrow pointing right. “I told you, nothing is coincidental, look, we randomly stopped somewhere, just next to Jerusalem. We didn’t even see what the sign said.”
“What do you think it is? A village called Jerusalem?”
“I don’t think so, it looks like a farm.”
“Let’s go inside and see who lives here.”
They drove their car slowly on the dirt road. There was a mango tree on one side of the road and on the other, a cashew de Brazil plantation and a small creek running beside it. The drive there was soothing and pleasant. When they reached a small white house, they stopped.
“Is there anybody here?”
“I don’t know,” Bernardo said, stepped out of the car and clapped. His claps were loud and stronger than the water’s trickling. A door opened and a three-year-old appeared, behind him stood a young woman who asked, “Are you looking for Roy?”
“No.”
“Who are you looking for?”
“We’re traveling around the area and saw the sign ‘Jerusalem’, we wanted to know who named your pousada?”
“Oh,” she laughed, “Jerusalem is where my husband was born.”
“Is he Israeli?” Gadi jumped, “I’m Israeli, too.”
“Yes, he’s Israeli and he looks just like you, like a Brazilian. If you would like to wait for him, he’ll be back in about an hour. Would you like to have some cool spring water?”
“Yes, please.”
“You know, when we were in Curitiba, we met an Israeli who had married a Brazilian and together they opened a pousada.”
“We also host groups of spiritualists who come to stay here. The sleep outside, on the earth, because it is full with crystal deposits, they believe in its positive energy.”
“We know… we visited a spiritualist church in Brasilia and there…”
“Their large crystal is from our land.”
After they quenched their thirst, they decided they wouldn’t wait longer. “Maybe we’ll come visit you again, okay?”
“We’re leaving next week, going to Israel, making Aliyah.”
“Then you’ll get there before I do, you can call my parents if you need help with anything… take their phone number and we’ll meet there.”
They took off. Gadi drove and Bernardo was preoccupied with his thoughts, Will Gadi also invite me to Israel?
“She’s Brazilian, which is why she calls him Roy. I’m willing to bet his name is Roi.” Gadi explained to Bernardo.
“Will I be called Bernardo in Israel? Or will I get a Hebrew name?”
“We’ll call you Doobi. You know why? Because Doobi means ‘bear’ and you have a ‘ber’ in your name…”
Gadi explained and they both laughed.
Although the secretary had asked them to come on Monday in the afternoon, they were already at the congress in the morning. They were impatient and preferred walking around the building and seeing the greenhouses. “Every greenhouse represents the plants that grow in each region,” Bernardo read out loud for Gadi. “Here is my region, Pernambuco. Its local vegetation is sugarcane, mandioca, cotton, cocoa, yams and coconut trees.”
“I already know what
a mandioca is,” Gadi said. “Angela from Rio de Janeiro and her mother told me, they are Coerced, do you know what are those? Maybe we are coerced, too, our last name indicates that we are,” Gadi explained to Bernardo who were the Coerced and told him everything he knew of the subject. “We can ask Francisco de Oliveira when we meet him.”
“‘Man is nothing but the image of his native landscape,’” Gadi remembered Shaul Tchernichovsky’s philosophical observation and tried explaining to Bernardo. “It’s amazing that they brought here their native landscape to represent each state.”
“So, I’m similar to these plants?” Bernardo asked. “What are Tel Aviv’s plants?”
“In Tel Aviv we only have cultivated flowers. There almost isn’t any nature in the city. But in the open areas, you can still find some Groundsels and Chrysanthemums in the winter, and mostly thorns during the summer. But there is a type of cactus called sabresor prickly pear cactus, it’s the fruit that represents us, Israelis. But it’s actually from Mexico. People say that native Israelis are like pear cacti because they’re prickly on the outside and sweet on the inside. How about you?”
“I’m more like a sugarcane. Long and thin, but if you squeeze hard enough well, I produce a lot of sugar. You just need to have the right conditions to extract it,” Bernardo said.
“You blow my mind, is there anything you don’t know?” Gadi said with admiration.
“I’m a curious person. Who do you think I got it from? I think from Nessia, are you also a curious person?”
“You can say so, but our character is not only designed by our genetic qualities, but also by our surroundings. That poet’s quote I told you before,” Gadi continued, “doesn’t only refer to nature’s landscape, but also to a cultural and educational landscape; the figures we grow up with and shape who we are. I’m torn between two worlds, the landscape I grew up in and what I have brought with me from Brazil.”
While they were having a philosophical back and forth about what had a greater impact, nature or nurture, they heard a deep voice, “I heard you’ve been looking for me.”
They both turned to face the voice, “I’m Senhor Francisco de Oliveira, what did you want?” he continued.
Before them stood a large man, dressed in an elegant gray suit. The tip of a red handkerchief, matching his tie, peeked from his jacket’s lapel. They could see a thin mustache as if drawn above his lips, and his sunglasses placed on his head, revealed two smiling greenish eyes that didn’t seem to match their owner’s threatening voice.
“Do you know our names?” Gadi asked.
“Yes,” the man replied with a pretense of ignorance.
“Does it remind you of anything?”
“Yes, my own name,” he laughed.
“It’s not funny. We think you’re our father.”
Bernardo didn’t speak. His whole body shivered. He looked at the deep-voiced man and couldn’t assist Gadi, who surprisingly held his temper as he spoke.
“How can I be your father when I don’t have any children?”
You’re denying us, Bernardo thought to himself.
“Or you do and simply don’t know it,” Gadi replied.
“Who told you I was your father?”
“Our mother.”
“What’s her name?”
“Nessia.”
They thought that when he heard their mother’s name, he would be excited, yet his face revealed nothing.
“I don’t know your mother, I don’t know any woman named Nessia.”
“Did you have an empregada called Nessia?”
“Oh, yes, a long time ago. She worked for us in Curitiba for three years… I think this was about twenty-five years ago, but I didn’t know she had kids and got married.”
I knew he would say those things, Bernardo said to himself. Clever.
“People don’t need to get married to have children. If you do the math, you’ll see that Nessia got pregnant while working for you.”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with me?”
“I understand this isn’t convenient for you, but we are convinced you are our father.”
“You’re stubborn. It’s a good quality. I like it, you remind me of myself when I was younger. Are you Brazilian?”
“I was born in Brazil but I live in Israel,” Gadi replied and looked at him directly.
“Look, I’m late for a meeting. I’ll finish early and have lunch with you so we can figure things out,” he said in his deep voice which had softened.
“Great idea, we’ll wait here,” Gadi said and thought this break might allow Bernardo to regain his composure.
When Francisco left, they were on their own again. Bernardo said, “See? He’s trying to get out of it. That’s the type, I know people like him.”
“But we won’t let him off easy, we’ll take it all the way. Start talking, don’t be afraid of him.”
“He knows it’s the truth, otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to meet with us. Let’s sit on the bench at the end of the hall. I can’t stand up anymore. My legs are really shaking, aren’t yours?” Bernardo asked.
“Strangely, no. I’m almost unexcited. It’s true that I traveled to Brazil to find my biological parents, but I found you and that’s enough for me.”
Bernardo smiled when he heard what Gadi had said but was persistent. “I wonder if he’ll bring someone to our meeting or handle this new situation on his own.” He waited a few moments before answering his own question, “He won’t bring anyone, he doesn’t need any help. Besides, he’s afraid someone will find out about it. He’s already planned all possible moves and exhausted all his options. He had a long weekend to think this over.” They started feeling tired but decided they would use this time and join a guided tour through the house of representatives. In the assembly room, on the podium, were the seats designated for the deputados, in the middle was the president’s seat, a huge cross hung above it. Around, in a crescent, were all 513 seats of the elected representatives.
“What’s that crucifix? Does everyone have to be Catholic and live by it? What if there’s a Jew in the parliament? You don’t divide church and state either?” Gadi asked angrily.
“Brazil is a Catholic country and I think we can’t choose a Jewish or Muslim president. I think other parliament members can belong to other religions, but I’m not sure of that either,” Bernardo replied.
“It’s really absurd, but I have already realized that politics is absurd.”
“What’s more absurd is that there can be a dad who is important and rich while he’s son barely gets by. He doesn’t have any other children. Who will inherit all his property? Did you see how many factories, agencies and hotels he has? He’s a millionaire,” Bernardo worked himself up. “I might need his money, but that’s not why I came here. I just want to know where he has been all this time. I have no intentions of begging him to be my father, I just want to meet him, that’s all.”
“He’ll come running after us. When he realizes we don’t want him, he’ll see what he’s missing,” Gadi tried consoling him.
“It’s true about most things, girls, too.” Bernardo agreed.
“Tell me about it, the more I loved Tamara, the more she pulled away.
“Don’t you like Adi?”
“Yes, I like her, but I wasn’t ready to have a new relationship and fall in love. When I meet her, I’ll probably have more time to think about it. How about you, are you still mourning?”
“I have some issues. If I ever get married or date someone seriously, I won’t have enough money to start a family. And what would happen to my siblings? Besides, I want to study and was just fired. When we’re done with this mess I’ll go back home and start looking for a job. Then, maybe, I’ll have time for love. Don’t forget I’m much younger than you.”
“As if, we only have a two-year differe
nce,” Gadi chuckled.
They sat on the bench in the congress hall until they fell asleep.
“Wake up boys, tired so soon? The day hasn’t started yet. I promised you lunch,” Francisco’s voice, which suddenly had a paternal undertone, woke them up. Both jumped up, stretched a bit, straightened their clothes and followed Francisco into his car. They drove straight to the Marios, an expensive churaskeria on the 102 quarter.
“Why here?” Bernardo asked Gadi. “We can’t talk here, the restaurant is packed, tell him.”
“You tell him.”
“There are too many people here,” Francisco turned to them and ended their discussion. “We’ll go somewhere else.”
They arrived at the 110 and walked into a small Japanese restaurant, sat at an isolated table and, after ordering, Francisco said, “Okay, it’s time to speak, who’s first?”
Bernardo sat up and with his leg signaled Gadi to speak.
“Okay,” said Gadi. “I’ll start. I’m Israeli but was born in Curitiba. After I was born, Nessia gave me up for adoption. But you knew that, right?”
“No,” Francisco said, “I didn’t. Who gave you away? To who? How should I have known?”
“Ok, let’s start from the very beginning. When Nessia worked for you, was she pregnant?”
“No, I had no idea. She suddenly disappeared and I didn’t know why.”
I knew he would try to deny it, Bernardo said to himself and couldn’t get over his silence. Deal with it, he said to himself. However, he couldn’t make a single sound.
“When she came back to work for you, you simply rehired her? No questions asked?”
“Yes, I did,” Francisco replied.
Then Bernardo’s voice erupted, it was unstoppable, “Enough with these games. You know you’re our father, we don’t need anything from you, we have everything. This is an awkward situation. We’re confronting you with facts and you’re denying them, why? We don’t want anything from you, just for you to admit that you are our biological father.” Although he spoke decisively and his speechlessness had disappeared, a small tear clogged his throat and he choked.
“We researched and found you. We know for certain that you are our biological father, we just want you to admit it. Everyone wants to know who their parents are, and so do we.” Gadi persisted.