It was hateful, they had put us in a separate desk, while the teacher continued to teach the other children. They had separated me from my friends. For the first time I felt different, really different.
Being stuck in a wheelchair had never been a serious problem, everyone seemed happy to help me. My schoolmates were also ready to do anything I needed without me even asking. Ours was a Christian community, it was natural to behave this way.
I remembered the teachings of mom and Reverend: All men are equal, beyond the color of their skin. And the children are more equal than the others, he always added the church man.
I breathed a great sigh and prepare to do my duty. I revised my English as I haven’t had many occasions to use it since Dad had left us.
«Is your name Abraham?».
The child nodded.
«Abraham what? What’s your surname?».
«Abraham… Lincoln».
«Too difficult», I stated. «I will never remember it».
He didn’t have a problem with that, He just raised his shoulders. «It was an important name, Dad said. That of a general, I believe».
«Where’s your father?».
«He didn’t make it».
I was good at geography, as in any other subject. «You’ve gone through Canada, right? You all come from there».
He nodded again, but it was clear that the subject made him feel bad. I realized that the father had to be dead, probably in the attempt to cross the border. Many died that way, Mom had told me.
I changed topic. «what did you study with history? Did you study Nerone already?».
He looked at me strangely and shook his head.
I was increasingly uncomfortable, as a teacher I felt inadequate. «If you didn’t get there please tell me so, I can make a summary for you».
«No… I never went to school before».
I wasn’t sure I understood. «Do you do it differently? Did you study at home? Have your parents taught you?».
He shook his head. «I don’t know how to read or write. Is this what I have to learn here?».
I looked horrified at the teacher, and I raised my hand, but she ignored me.
Was it a joke? We were in fourth grade! What does an illiterate do in our class? Why didn’t they put him in first grade, if he didn’t know how to do anything? Then it occurred to me that maybe I was the only one in the whole school that could communicate with him.
Abraham was always head-down, he was waiting.
Why did they put me in that position? What did they expect from me?
I had to study, to play, to be with my friends, they couldn’t force me to babysit that nothingness!
Abraham was silent, he never lifted his eyes. He always waited.
I cleared my voice. «I think… I think it’s best to start with the alphabet. Yes, the letters of the alphabet. I think…».
«They don’t want them here», my mother admitted to dinner. «The pro-Americans want to send them all away».
«And would it be wrong?».
«They want to send them back to America, but they can’t. The whole world would turn against them. But every year they are getting stronger, it’s likely that the next elections they will also get the majority, and then things will get really bad».
«Abraham had never gone to school before».
«I know, William. The slaves don’t go to school. The slaves only serve to work. They have no rights, they have no name, they are just objects».
«Abraham has a name. He told me that. Abraham… Linco».
Mom corrected me. «Abraham Lincoln. But it’s not their real name. They choose their name when they manage to run away».
«Oh!». I was really surprised that someone could choose his own name. «He said it was the name of a famous general».
«Not exactly. Long time ago he was the head of the unionists. Everybody called him president». She smiled. «For some of them he is considered a martyr. They say he was against the confederation to release them, to abolish slavery. But I doubt it very much, there were a lot of other interests in the game».
I didn’t know much about that historical period, we had not yet studied it. «Who are the unionists?».
«Rebel, Guglielmo. Rebels who, very long time ago, have been opposed to the Confederation. They were defeated in a great battle in Gettysburg, where many people died. It was then that the Confederacy got all the states of America».
«The Canada, no, though».
She smiled. «No, Canada had not participated in the war, it remained a free state».
«And there are slaves in America».
«We used to have them too, but very long time ago. Then men abolished slavery in every part of the world. Only America has refused to do so. The United Nations has sanctioned it, now the embargo against America is going on for twenty years. But it is useless, they are stronger than ever. They have closed the borders, they don’t need anyone. They have those who produce for them».
I didn’t understand much, there were too many words in that speech that I still didn’t know. «What should I do with Abraham? He doesn’t know nothing at all».
«Teach him, William, do it for me. That child suffered a lot».
It was a full time job, what I was entrusted with. It didn’t end with the end of the lessons. Abraham didn’t know anything at all and was stressful to instruct him. It wasn’t a stupid boy, no, but sometimes I had to teach him such basic concepts that a three years old boy knew it here.
We were living in another universe, us two. My old friends were excluded. There was no one who would help me, but there was Abraham. If a pen fell on the floor he had already bent to catch it before it even touched the ground. He carried my backpack and pushed the wheelchair.
They all ignored us, even the teacher, and I struggled to understand it, because in the end she had been asking for my help.
Often, at the end of the lessons, we were going to the park, which was always empty in that season, and there we were still studying by the lakeshore.
There was so much curiosity in me, and it often overshadowed the task I was assigned to.
«What did you do in America? I mean, what does it mean to be a slave?».
He raised his shoulders, with no concern. «I don’t know. What I do here».
I was more confused than ever. «What does it mean? Who was your master?».
He made himself more cautious. «I almost never saw him. My job was to take care of his son».
«And what did you do?».
«Anything. Anything that needed it to be done. I accompanied him to school and brought him the books. I cleaned his room. I cleaned his clothes. I took care of him, in short».
It took me more than a minute before I came to understand. Even though I was his teacher, Abraham was dealing with me. Within a few days he had become indispensable, he was my legs and arms, he obeyed me naturally without ever having to give him orders. I was dismayed, even though I didn’t fully understand the reason.
«Was it a bad life?», I asked, though I was scared to know the answer.
«It’s dad that wanted to leave. Escape. Mum didn’t want to, she opposed to it. She was convinced that nothing would change, that the world was all that way».
I didn’t ask who was right between the two, I didn’t want to know. «And you?».
He shrugged again.
There weren’t any sparks between us that would make us friends. I taught him and he obeyed, nothing else.
«How old are you?», I asked.
«Almost nine. I think».
«You think? Don’t you know when you were born?».
Again he shrugged. «Mom remembered it was in May, but not the day. The days are all the same, she always says».
That night I spoke with Mom.
It was not easy for her to explain certain things. Perhaps she had not even realized how complicated was the task she had entrusted to me.
«In America it’s different, Guglielmo».
> «Yes, but how different? Abraham told me he never celebrated his birthday. Not even knowing what day falls».
«It’s possible. The whites, the masters, don’t give any importance to certain things. They will probably have annotated that birth, but only as they take note of new property. The slaves are illiterate, there are some things they can’t understand».
«Can’t we find out when was he born?».
«I’m afraid not, Guglielmo. Now there is no way to find out».
I was dismayed, it seemed to me something horrible.
«He will never be able to celebrate a birthday?».
Mom smiled. «You can choose a day yourself. May is at the door. Choose one day and celebrate it».
I was doubtful. «Can you?».
«Sure, Guglielmo, you can do anything».
I presented the idea to Abraham. He looked at me for a long time, without talking.
«Don’t you want it?».
«What’s the point?», he asked.
«That’s how we do. We celebrate birthdays».
«I wasn’t born free».
Strange answer, which I didn’t understand. «I know, you were a slave, but…».
He interrupted me, and it was the first time that he did.
«It doesn’t matter. Many slaves were born free. Not me».
I didn’t know that, I dropped my mouth. «What does it mean?».
«There is a place far away, called Africa. There’s where people like us live free. There are also birthdays there. Many slaves were born there».
«But this has been many and many years ago!», I said because I knew a little bit about that story.
«No, it’s not true, it continues today. There are bad men, soldiers, they call them marines. They always go to Africa to take new slaves. They come with big ships and many rifles, and they take away my people. Dad was taken like that, he was born free».
I was incredulous. «But they can’t, it’s forbidden!».
«They do it anyway, they do everything they want».
«And we don’t do anything to prevent it?».
It was a silly question for a child like him. I immediately changed my topic. «How do you know these things? Who have taught you?».
«Nobody. Listening. I listen to the older who talk about it. Dad always told us about Africa, he just dreamed of going back there. But mom didn’t, she has never been there, she is afraid of it. She says it’s only inhabited by savages and she wants to remain in civilization».
This was all new to me.
«Don’t you want to celebrate it then?».
«My birthday? What does it mean to celebrate?».
«Should I give him a present?», I asked mom.
She was very thoughtful, almost not listening to me. «Yes, yes».
What could I give to Abraham? What did he really need? Everything. What would I have wanted if it had been my birthday? Something important that I couldn’t have?
The idea sprouted, and I found it to be perfect at once.
«Missy had the puppies».
Mom asked. «What?».
«Missy, Mr. Ferri’s dog, had the puppies. He’s trying to give them away».
She raised her eyebrows. «Do you want to give a dog to Abraham?».
«Shouldn’t we?».
She didn’t reply immediately, lost in her thoughts. «Things are not looking good at all».
«What does it mean?».
«They don’t want them here. The reverend had taken Mrs. Lincoln as a janitor, but the mothers of some children complained and they had to fire her. Now she helps some church ladies to do their housework, but it’s just a temporary job».
I couldn’t help it: «She is a slave again?».
«I wouldn’t put it that way».
But that’s exactly what she was doing, just like in America. Their life had not changed at all, despite the freedom.
«I’m telling you this just because… I don’t know if they can afford a dog. You have to ask her, if you can give it to him, you can’t decide on your own».
I was looking for trouble, but I still wanted to go all the way.
Abraham and his mother lived in the church, or rather in a closet next to the rectory. It was a tiny room with a single window that didn’t make much light, and there were almost no furniture, just two mattresses thrown to the ground.
I felt like an idiot to ask that question. There was no place to hold an animal in that hole.
Mom came to my aid. «Children would love to celebrate Abraham’s birthday. Guglielmo wants to give him a present».
I forced myself to talk. «A puppy».
She was worn-out, that woman, and sad. But that day she smiled. «It seems to me like a good idea».
It wasn’t. But I would have understood it only long time after.
When I went with mom to Mr Ferri, there were only two puppies left. He had already given them a name: Blackie was a male, all black, lively and intrusive. He put him in my arms, proud of his champion. Then there was Cindy, the last born. She was much smaller and shy, and above all she was completely white.
When I pointed to Cindy, even Mum made a grimace. «Do you think this is the case? Perhaps Abraham would prefer the other».
I was sure. Just because Abraham had black skin, it didn’t have to have his dog of the same color. I was sure he would have loved Cindy.
Mr. Ferri also disagree with me, but that day I pointed my feet on the ground, perhaps for the very first time in my life, and when we left that house Cindy was sleeping on my knees.
It was a great party and Abraham enjoyed it. He fell in love with Cindy at first glance and she loved him back. Mrs. Lincoln smiled often that night. There were also mom and reverend, and a couple of church ladies. No other child was present, although I had invited many of them.
It was the last day of true happiness, or perhaps the only one.
That a color could transform that way our existences seemed impossible, but the fate of millions of people has been laid down by a color.
Problems started slowly, and at the beginning I didn’t realize it.
As soon as Cindy was big enough to be carried around, it became our shadow.
Abraham loved her, washed her continually, Cindy was as white as the snow, she didn’t have one hair that was not immaculate. And she was beautiful, the most beautiful dog we had ever seen. And most of all, he loved Abraham and blindly obeyed any order he gave her.
At first it was few walks, and it was me to hold the leash while Abraham pushed the wheelchair. She was spending time with us in the long afternoons by the lake. We played together.
At that time there was always someone who stopped making compliments, but only because they were under the impression that the dog was mine.
Then the voice spread and the compliments stopped.
The day came that we took her to school with us. Cindy couldn’t get in, it was obvious, but Abraham had already trained her well. We tied her to a tree in the yard, and she was good enough to wait for us all morning. She never barked.
We seized every opportunity to look at her from the window, Abraham at least did, I had some problem moving. Then we went home all together.
In the early days, Cindy was very popular among our friends. It attracted them, it couldn’t be otherwise, but the news soon ended. They didn’t want them to come close to Cindy: the parents of our friends, but even the teacher.
The reaction continued, inexorable.
Eventually we got it.
Cindy wasn’t liked. Nobody liked Cindy anymore. Nobody liked the idea that a black kid owned such a white dog.
If no one interfered, it was only because my presence. In fact, to be precise, it was only because of my wheelchair, because me and Abraham were always together, and they all saw how much I needed him. So, as good Christians, they tolerated him.
But Cindy’s presence was getting more and more difficult to tolerate.
Even Mr. Ferri would not expect Cindy to beco
me as such. Now she was even overshadowing his Blackie champion. There was nobility in that dog, there was elegance, as she was even better then a pure breed.
This worsened everything.
I realized it, even though I didn’t fully understand the magnitude of that problem. But I was trying to solve it.
More and more often I was leading Cindy, and if Abraham was taken by enthusiasm and started playing with her in public, I immediately found him something to do to make him stop.
One day, by the lake, Abraham faced me.
I would never have expected that he would find the courage to face me.
«Do you want my dog?».
Oh yes, I would have wanted her. I had chosen this dog for him, but it was my secret wish, what Mom would have never realized. But we both knew that wasn’t the reason why I behaved like that
«Don’t say nonsense!».
«With you it would be better».
Did he want to give me Cindy? I knew how much he loved her, his behavior was silly. Was he jealous because I was always holding the leash? But he had to push the wheelchair!
The truth was another, and we both knew it, but I didn’t want to deal with the problem and I was wrong. Nor did he find the courage to face me all the way.
I returned the leash. «Keep it, I can’t do it. She pulls too much».
He remained uncertain for one moment. «Sorry».
The accident was closed and I didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. From that day only Abraham was dealing with Cindy.
The time came when the coldness around us could no longer be ignored.
Mom explained to me that there had been disorder, and it was said that they were caused by the refugees. She also told me that she didn’t believe that it was the pro-Americans party to foment them, just for the sake of completeness. She said it was a very bad situation, that there were too many refugees and they couldn’t find a job; and that some political parties were using them to increase intolerance.
She said that certain problems had reached us, in that remote village.
I didn’t understand. Abraham was only a child, what fault could he have?
Mom didn’t have an answer. Indeed, it was likely that she regretted to put me in that situation.
Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch Page 40
