by Luz Gabás
“Have you any idea who it could be?”
Both of them shook their heads, but both were frowning.
“I thought it might be Simón …” She shook her head. “But I don’t think so, not him.”
“Who is Simón?” her mother asked.
“Uncle Kilian, in Sampaka, I met an old man who told me he had been your boy while you were there.”
Kilian’s eyes misted up. “Simón … ,” he whispered.
“What a coincidence!” exclaimed Jacobo, in a forced cheerful voice. “Simón is still alive and still in Sampaka! But how did you meet up with him?”
“Actually, it was he who recognized me,” she explained. “He said I looked a lot like both of you.”
She remembered that Mamá Sade also thought her face looked familiar, but Clarence did not say anything. Not yet, she thought. Later.
“Well, and we were introduced by a man who knew him, as he had worked on the plantation. His name was … His name is Iniko.” His name came out almost in a whisper. He had become a character in her story. He was not flesh and bones.
Jacobo and Kilian exchanged a quick and meaningful look.
“Iniko … What a very strange name!” Daniela commented. “Very nice, I like it, but strange.”
“The name is Nigerian,” Clarence explained. “His father worked in Sampaka during the period you were there. His name was Mosi.”
Kilian rested his elbow on the table and supported his head in one of his enormous hands. Jacobo crossed both hands over his face to hide the sign of surprise that was forming on his mouth. Both of them were very tense.
“Doesn’t it ring a bell?” Clarence asked.
“On the plantation there were more than five hundred workers!” bellowed her father. “You don’t expect us to remember all of them!”
She fell silent, but quickly recovered.
“I know there were a lot of you,” she defended herself in a loud voice. “But Gregorio, Marcial, Mateo, Santiago … ? I suppose you remember them!”
“Mind your tone, Daughter!” Jacobo wagged his finger in the air. “Of course we remember them. They were employees like us.” He paused and gave her an odd look. “How did you get their names?”
“I got to see the plantation files. I found both your files and Granddad’s. They’re still there, with the medical histories. And, Dad … I didn’t know you were hospitalized for several weeks. It must have been serious, but it didn’t say what.”
Carmen turned to her husband. “I didn’t know that, Jacobo. Why did you never tell me?”
“Please! I didn’t even remember it!” He took the bottle of wine to pour himself a glass, and his hand trembled. He looked at Kilian for help.
“It would be that time when you had a serious dose of malaria. The fever wouldn’t come down, and you had us all worried.” Kilian smiled at Clarence. “Every other week someone came down with it. I’m surprised they had made a note of something so common.”
Clarence looked at the other women. Was she the only one who thought they were lying? It seemed so. Carmen got up to serve dessert as Daniela changed the subject.
“Where are the presents you brought us?” she asked in a tinkling voice. “You did bring us presents, didn’t you?”
“Eh, of course I did!” Clarence had not finished her initial attack, and she was still left with the most difficult part.
“One more thing before I go look for them …” She hesitated. “Simón wasn’t the only one to recognize me.”
Kilian raised an eyebrow.
“In a restaurant, a woman with her mulatto son came over to me …” She had hesitated over the word mulatto. “She was convinced that I reminded her of someone from her youth. Everyone there called her Mamá Sade …”
“Sade … ,” Daniela repeated. “Are all the names in Guinea that pretty? It sounds like the name of a beautiful princess.”
“Well, there’s nothing left of that.” Clarence made a face. “She was, well, is an old toothless woman who looks like a witch.”
The men looked at her impassively. Several seconds went by. Nothing. They did not even twitch. Would not a quizzical look have been more logical?
“I imagined she mistook me for someone else, but she insisted on knowing my father’s name.”
Kilian cleared his throat.
“And what did you say?”
“I told her he was dead.”
“Thanks a lot,” Jacobo commented in a forced cheerfulness that made Carmen and Daniela laugh. “And why did you do that?”
“Because I didn’t like that woman at all. They told me she had been a prostitute in the colonial period before becoming a successful businesswoman in that profession. And that”—she coughed—“she had fallen in love with a white man who she became pregnant by and”—she coughed again—“he abandoned her. That was the reason she didn’t want any more children.”
“What a scoundrel!” Carmen pursed her lips. “Though, if you say she was a prostitute … I can only imagine the type of men she would have hung around with.”
Clarence finished off her glass of wine. “Mom, I imagine many of her customers were the white employees from the plantations.” She paused on seeing the warning look from her father.
“Right, Clarence. That’s enough.”
Clarence nodded.
“And those presents, dear?”
On the way to her room, she cursed her bad luck under her breath. There was no way of her getting any further in that, not even the slightest bit. She could have sworn that neither Jacobo nor Kilian was telling the whole truth. Carmen and Daniela had not seemed to have found anything odd, but Clarence was sure the brothers were hiding something. How was she to discover anything if nobody gave her answers?
Okay, the name Sade seemingly meant nothing to them. Let’s see what happens with Bisila’s name. Clarence was certain they would not remember Bisila, just like she could not remember them. What bad memories everyone seemed to have all of a sudden! She picked up several bags from her bedroom and returned resolutely to the dining room.
After everyone had opened the packages and commented on the carved wooden animals, the mahogany walking sticks, the ebony figurines, the ivory amulets, the necklaces of shells and gemstones, the leather bracelets, and the beautiful and colorful party dress she had chosen for Daniela, Clarence opened the bag that Iniko had given her from Bisila and took out the pith helmet.
“A final gift!” she announced, putting the cloth-and-cork helmet on her head. “Iniko’s mother gave me this. One day she invited me to dinner at her house. There was Iniko, his brother, Laha, well, Fernando Laha, and her. Her name is Bisila, a charming woman. She worked in Sampaka as a nurse during your time.”
She paused. Nothing. Not even a comment.
“Ah! And she asked me to send her best wishes to the person I gave the helmet to. It could belong to either of you! It’s almost an antique.”
She took off the helmet and gave it to Daniela, who put it on, took it off, looked at it curiously, and passed it to Carmen, who did the same.
Kilian did not take his eyes off the helmet. He had his lips tightly closed, and his breathing seemed forced. Carmen passed it on to Jacobo. It looked to Clarence as if her father’s hands were trembling as he quickly passed it on to his brother. Was it her imagination, or did Kilian close his eyes as if in pain? Unlike Jacobo, he spent time stroking the helmet with extreme delicacy. His fingers went over the tear in the rigid hoop time and time again. All of a sudden, he got up and whispered, “Sorry. It’s very late and I’m very tired. I’m going to bed.” He looked at his niece for several seconds with a sad expression. “Thank you, Clarence.”
He left the dining room with a slow, ponderous step. Clarence felt he had aged in a matter of seconds. She never thought of the men of the house as people who were entering their twilight years. Kilian’s shoulders and legs were heavy. His strength had disappeared.
Everyone else remained in silence. Clarence hung her head.
Her curiosity was hurting everyone else’s feelings. Her mother put out her arm and took her hand.
“Don’t worry, Clarence,” she said sweetly. “He’ll be fine. Tonight you’ve spurred a lot of memories.” She turned to her husband. “You spent many years in Guinea, and it was a long time ago. It’s only normal to be nostalgic.”
“This always happens.” Daniela sighed. “In the end, it’s better not to bring it up.”
Jacobo shook his head. “And you, Clarence?” he asked wearily. “Has Africa gotten into you?”
Clarence turned beet red.
The unusually cold spring gave way to summer. The valley of Pasolobino filled with tourists who had fled the heat of the lowlands. At the end of August, the last summer festival was held in honor of the patron saint, which, in times past, had been the celebration of the harvest and a farewell to the good weather until the following year.
Clarence stuck her nose out the window. A band appeared around the corner and stopped in front of the door. The noise of the trumpets and drums echoed in the street, festooned with small flags hanging from the front of the houses. The poor things had to face the buffeting of the wind and the children who jumped up to try and take them. After the musicians, many children and young people danced with their hands in the air, shouting with joy. Two girls went over to the door with a big basket, and Daniela put in various sweets and desserts for the villagers to eat after the mass. The band finished the number, and Daniela offered them a glass of tasty wine from the special cask in the House of Rabaltué’s cellar.
Clarence smiled. Daniela always said that the village festivals were as distasteful as that wine, which spent too much time in the barrel, but then she was the first one to help out and applaud. The music began to fade in the distance as the band moved toward a new destination. Daniela ran up the stairs. When she met Clarence, there was a twinkle in her eye.
“What are you waiting for? Get dressed! The procession will soon be starting.”
As tradition demanded, every year, several men carried the saint on their shoulders through the streets of the village, followed by a parade of villagers decked out in the typical dress of the valley. Once the procession was over, the statue of the saint remained in the square while the neighbors dedicated a dance to the saint, and then it was returned to the church until the following year. The traditional costume consisted of so many petticoats, skirts, sashes, and ties that Clarence needed nearly an hour to put it on. And then there was the complicated chignon, the pins, the neck and head scarves, the jewelry … For the first time in her life, she could not be bothered.
“And you, Daniela,” she asked as every year, “what are you waiting for?”
“Me? I’m not one for these sort of things. But I love to see you dressed up.” She shrugged while smiling. “By the way, who is your partner this year in the dance?”
“I’ll find someone.”
Clarence closed her eyes and imagined Iniko beside her, dressed in tight dark trousers, a white shirt with the cuffs folded to the elbow, a sash around his waist, a waistcoat, and a scarf around his head. How would the onlookers react? she thought wryly. His enormous body would stand out in the circle of couples, jumping and turning to the sound of the castanets adorned with colored ribbons. She bit her bottom lip and remembered the night in the disco in Malabo. Since him, she found fault in all other men. None of them had his captivating magnetism. Not one.
“I could always ask one of our unmarried cousins …”
“Girl, it sounds dreadful, but some of them aren’t half bad. We might have to go back to the old customs. Do you know if you still need a papal bull to marry a cousin?”
“What nonsense you are talking!” Clarence smiled. “Come on, let’s go!”
“Wait a minute …” Daniela put the last touches to the hairstyle. “Have you noticed you’ve got a few gray hairs? They say they appear with worry.”
I’m not surprised, thought Clarence.
The weeks passed, and still she made no progress. Jacobo and Kilian avoided the subject of Guinea, and she did not have the courage to be direct. Julia had arrived in Pasolobino a month ago for the holidays, and they had met only on a couple of occasions. When Clarence mentioned the trip, putting emphasis on certain people—Sade, Bisila, Laha, and Iniko—if her friend knew something, she had managed to keep a straight face. Since then Clarence had had the feeling that the woman was avoiding her.
On more than one occasion, she had been tempted to go up to her father and share her suspicions. But she needed definitive proof to disclose a family secret of this magnitude. And each time she was more and more frustrated: Julia’s clue had led to a dead end, not much could be gotten from the reactions of Jacobo and Kilian, and no matter how many times she tried, she could not decipher the meaning of Simón’s vague comments. He had told her to look for a Bubi bell if the eyes did not give her an answer. What a riddle … So she had decided to wait for the heavens to send her a sign.
“You’re being very quiet, Clarence.” Daniela’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I asked you if you were worried about anything.”
“Sorry. Lately I’ve had too much free time. When I go back to work, I’ll be okay.”
“Dad has also been a little down. Have you noticed it?”
Clarence nodded. Kilian spent the days walking the fields and paths close to the house or in his room. After dinner, he went right to bed. In fact, he did not even talk at the table.
“Our parents are getting old, Daniela.”
“Yes. It’s a stage in life where two things happen: either you become bitter, or you switch off. The first is the case with your father, the second with mine.” Daniela sighed deeply, then gestured to Clarence’s costume. “It’s turned out perfectly.”
After the procession and the dance, they enjoyed a large meal in the House of Rabaltué with all the uncles, aunts, and cousins from around the valley. The talk after lunch went on and on due to the wine: well-worn anecdotes, stories about the village and the valley, and comments about the previous generations and the neighbors. Clarence enjoyed this annual routine with a certain wistfulness. It seemed like a village house in miniature. In this way she had learned all she knew about her past.
Toward the end of the afternoon, the guests finally got up from the table to attend a concert of regional songs and dances. Before the traditional group of guitars, lutes, and flutes, a singer began in a deep voice, plucking at Clarence’s very heartstrings with the beautiful theme. Clarence bowed her head and closed her lips tightly to prevent her eyes from filling with tears. The man repeated the verse once more: “The plants grow green again when the month of May arrives. What no longer revives is the love that dies. It’s the love that dies, when the month of May arrives.”
She was capable of waiting to solve the family mystery, but Clarence could not stop thinking about Iniko. Almost three months had gone by since she had gotten back from Bioko. They had not written. What would she have told him? They had not called. What would she have said? She knew he was well through Laha, who sent her an e-mail once a week. That was all.
“What’s wrong, Clarence?” Daniela put a hand on her arm. “And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I don’t believe you. You’ve been distracted and sad the whole day. In fact, ever since you came back from Africa.”
She looked directly at Clarence.
“Did you leave someone there?”
Clarence refused to tell her about the possible existence of a brother for the same reason she did not talk to Jacobo. She was not completely sure. She racked her brain for a vague enough answer. She opted to just let her continue to believe that she had had a romance in distant parts. And in this, she was not lying.
“You are not far wrong, but I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Fine,” Daniela relented. “But will you see each other again?”
“Hopefully.”
Daniela frowned, but did not press any further. She patted Clarence’s arm and then
concentrated on the last piece, which the audience applauded before dispersing.
The cousins went to the bar to order two glasses of punch and bumped into Julia on the way. While Daniela was saying hello to some acquaintances, Clarence decided to use those moments alone with her. Since she had returned from Guinea, Julia was always in a rush, which Clarence found very suspicious. Had Julia regretted putting Clarence on the—fairly useless—trail of a possible lost relation? To avoid her escaping again, she decided to get straight to the point.
“Julia, I’d like to know if this Fernando, older than me, could have been born in some other place like, for example, Bissappoo.”
On hearing the name, Julia immediately looked up at her. She wanted to correct her reaction, but realized that it was too late, and she blushed. Clarence felt a renewed hope.
“I …” Julia rubbed her forehead, wavering. “It’s possible that …” She paused. “What difference would it make?”
What do you mean, what difference would it make? Clarence thought, wanting to shout it out. That would change everything!
“Simón led me to believe that Jacobo knew Bisila,” she insisted. “Is it true?”
“I’m not telling you anything more, no matter what you say.” Julia’s voice was unequivocal. “Talk to your father.”
“Here’s your drink, Clarence.” Daniela arrived on her uncle’s arm, and Clarence suppressed a curse. “Did you know that your father lasted the whole performance? And you know how little he likes these things!”
Julia turned.
“How are you, Julia?” asked Jacobo. Both hesitated, then finally decided on two pecks on the cheek. “It’s been ages since I last saw you.”
“Yes, a long time. Ridiculous, when you consider how small a place this is.”
“Yes.” Jacobo cleared his throat. “Are you staying long?”
“I’m going back to Madrid next week.”
“We’ll also be going to Barmón soon.”
“Don’t you stay here now you’re retired?”
“We come and go, as always. The habit …” Jacobo’s eyes dropped, and he cleared his throat again. “You’re looking very well, Julia. I see time has stood still for you.”
