by Pauline Fisk
‘Everybody here in Blue Bank Springs helps everybody else,’ she said. ‘It’s our way. The fajina way, we call it. For the good of all. And Reuben reckons that what’s good for Blue Bank Springs could one day be good for the whole of Belize. He thinks the country needs a different way of governing and could learn a lot from the Kekchi-Mayan people. He thinks about these things. Like the problem of the land. He thinks about that, too.’
There were no problems that Kid could see. He asked Renata what she meant, and she explained that the land wasn’t theirs.
‘But the government gave it to Joseph,’ Kid said.
‘No they didn’t. Not the title deeds. What they gave was permission to settle,’ Renata said.
Kid was shocked. What would happen, he asked, if oil men from Texas found reserves beneath the ground? Or if gold was found or if, once the paved roads had gone through, the government decided to build houses and hotels? Renata’s eyes burned when Kid said that. If she was Alcalde, she said she’d give her life to making sure that none of those things happened. And her brother would do the same. But everybody’s hopes were pinned on the new government looking after the Kekchi-Mayan people, so that such terrible things would never happen.
Kid could have said that, where he came from, trusting politicians was generally seen to be a mistake. But he bit his tongue. After all, what did he know about anything? Maybe things were different in Belize. Certainly they’d been different when it came to phoning Prime Ministers and their wives. Maybe in Belize there really were politicians who were honest, and people’s hopes weren’t always misplaced.
Kid envied them their hope. That night he went to bed half in love with a way of looking at the world that felt out of reach. And from there it was a short way to falling in love properly. On the other side of the room, Renata lay curled up on her mat with a cover thrown over her. She was a proper, grown-up woman, but Kid was just a boy – which meant she’d never give him a second thought.
But all the same, Kid was in love.
29
BURNING
Next morning Kid awoke knowing that everything he could possibly want in life was here in Blue Bank Springs. He imagined being man enough to build his own house, tend his own farm and come home at night to his own wife. The picture stayed with him all day. Even going to school and attempting to make himself useful made no difference. Wisely Teacher Betty put him in charge of the football team instead of allowing him back in the classroom. But even dashing up and down in the hot sun, Kid couldn’t stop thinking about Renata and the home he’d make with her, if only he was old enough for her to look his way.
At the end of the day, drained of hope as well as energy, Kid headed home. Teacher Betty walked along with him, heading for her bus. She’d been in a mood all day, rapping pupils with her sharp tongue and threatening to do the same with her ruler if they didn’t pull themselves together. Now she huffed and puffed as she walked along. Plainly something was on her mind. And, being Teacher Betty, it wasn’t long before it came bursting out.
‘Bright children like dese. Dey could become lawyers if dey had yur chances. Dey could become doctors. Dey could become teachers like me. Dey have brains an’ dere keen. It isn’t fair. Yu English boys an’ gyals, yu have it all. Dere’s a gyal in my class – a lovely gyal, real shiny an’ sharp. She sat de exam to go to school in Punta Gorda instead of leavin’ at fourteen. An’ she passed de exam. She got top marks. But her mudder’s jus’ been in to say she can’t take up de place.
‘De school is proud of her,’ Teacher Betty fumed. ‘Her family’s proud of her. Everybody’s proud of her. She’s even proud of herself. But pride’s one ting an’ money’s another and de gyal can’t go. She’s grateful fo de chance. But it mek no difference. When de new term starts dat gyal won’ be there.’
They’d reached the road now and stood together waiting for Teacher Betty’s bus. Kid said something about people here being happy all the same, and Teacher Betty snorted.
‘Of course dey’s happy,’ she said, giving Kid a sour look. ‘Dey always are, dese people. But it doesn’t mean dat tings are right. Take yur Renata. She was de same. We went through this whole ting a year ago. Now she’s fifteen an’ helping to look after her brudder’s family when she coulda gone away to school. An’ is she unhappy? Of course she’s not – she’s a proud Kekchi-Mayan girl. But I’m unhappy. I, Teacher Betty. I see de way de world works. I see de way it’s stacked. An’ I know it ain’t fair.’
Kid blushed when Teacher Betty said that. He thought of his own schooling record – all the chances he’d let slip by, the classes he’d missed, the exams he’d skived. Even now while he was here in Belize, his classmates in England would be sweating over their GCSEs. Kid’s whole life was one massive skive.
The bus came along and Teacher Betty boarded it. Kid waved her off, then turned for home. The argument was more complicated than Teacher Betty made out, but then he guessed she knew it wasn’t just an education that was being weighed in the balance here. It was a way of life – a choice between the world Teacher Betty came from, and Kid as well, with its pockets full of money and big-deal careers, or a world where, if you wanted a fish, you went and caught it; if you wanted fruit you picked it off the tree.
Kid headed up the bank. Ahead of him he could see Renaldo on a turkey, riding it in circles, Lydia on the sewing-machine and Renata taking in a line of washing. He watched her unpegging it item by item, folding it and placing it in her basket. And suddenly something Teacher Betty had said finally sank in.
How old was Renata?
Kid stopped in his tracks. ‘What are you staring at?’ Renata said, looking up.
Kid didn’t ask then. He saved it until later, and worked his way round to it by asking Reuben first. ‘I was just wondering,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind asking, but how old are you?’
Reuben said he was twenty – the same age as Hal. Lydia, he said, a mother of two children, was nineteen, the same age as Snow and Fritz. And Renata –
‘Renata is fifteen,’ he said.
‘Fifteen?’ said Kid, unable to disguise the thrill that ran through him.
Reuben smiled as if he understood that Kid might be shocked. ‘Our world’s not like yours,’ he said. ‘In our world, a woman of fifteen is old enough to marry, and a man of sixteen – like I was at the time – old enough to build a house and become a father.’
After that, Kid looked at Renata in a whole new light. Looked at himself in a new light too, for boys his age were capable of things he’d never have thought possible. He waited until the others had gone to bed, then fished out his parents’ photograph and told Renata all about them. It was as if he wanted her to know who he really was. He told her his father’s name and explained about looking for him but said he’d found out in the end that he was dead. Maybe it wasn’t quite true, but Kid reckoned it was near enough.
‘In fact, both my parents are dead,’ he said. ‘Just like yours.’
It was as if he was trying to forge a connection with Renata. As if he wanted to say look, we’re both the same.
Renata asked about his mother and he said her name was Kath, and showed Renata her hat. She said she loved it, and she looked great in it when she tried it on. Kid was almost tempted to give it to her. He could sense something in her that hadn’t been there before. Thanks to one white lie – which was probably more truth than lie anyway – a bond was struck between them. Renata viewed him differently now. Kid could sense the shift in her.
That night, he couldn’t sleep. The thought of Renata across the room, no longer out of touch, but within grasp, was too much to bear. Kid imagined her awake, thinking of him too. He even went so far as to imagine her tiptoeing across the floor and sneaking into his hammock to keep him company. He knew it wasn’t going to happen, not least because this was the same Renata who’d found no one yet who measured up to her brother. But it was nice imagining it.
Kid had never been in love. Never even thought he was in love,
though there’d been girls he’d fancied who had fancied him back. He’d certainly never imagined wanting to get married and settle down. But he was imagining it now. Teacher Betty had misunderstood these Kekchi-Mayan people, he thought. She hadn’t got the measure of their lives. This mightn’t be a place where you could become a doctor or lawyer. But it was one where you could become a man.
Kid lay in his hammock dreaming about living in the village as Renata’s husband, surrounded by their children, even becoming Alcalde himself one day, everybody looking up to him and coming to him for advice.
But how to make it happen? That was the thing. Kid knew nothing about how Kekchi-Mayan courtships were conducted but guessed, like anywhere else, that the first thing was to declare his love.
Next morning, Kid arose with a sense of purpose. It was Saturday, which meant that the village children were all off school, which in turn meant that finding a moment alone with Renata was going to be difficult. Kid watched her every move. He was determined to seize his chance when it came along. He waited half the morning, thinking it never would, but finally Renata picked up a basket of washing and headed off towards the river.
Kid trailed behind, rehearsing what he’d say when his chance presented itself. But voices came his way as he drew closer to the river. And by the time he stood on the ridge looking down upon the water, it seemed as if half the village women were there.
Kid had never been to the river before when the women were washing. They were all in the water, some right up to their waists, and the sight of their brightly coloured dresses spread out around them like beautiful flowers was one he’d never forget. He watched them pounding mounds of soapy washing on a series of flat stones, worn smooth by use. Children splashed around them and babies wrapped in tight bundles, hung like ripe fruit in the trees.
Kid stood mesmerised. A few of the women pulled off their dresses to wash them too, and he knew that he should look away. But Renata stood amongst them unplaiting her hair, and it was the first time Kid had seen it loose. He stood watching like a peeping tom, astonished at how long it was. Then Renata pulled off her dress too, and Kid really should have looked away, but he couldn’t do it. He stood burning up instead.
After that, Kid burned all day. He’d succeeded in finally dragging himself away, but the picture of Renata standing in the river still filled his head. He knew he couldn’t carry on like this. He had to do something. He had to share his feelings. He wished that Fritz or Hal were here, or even Snow. He hadn’t missed them until now, but suddenly he missed them terribly. They’d understand the way he felt. Better still, they’d give him good advice.
Kid filled the day somehow, one minute sticking to Renata and trying to drop hints, the next sloping off miserably when she didn’t pick them up. Finally he decided that if Renata didn’t have the time to hear what he had to say, he’d explain his love to Lydia and ask for her advice.
Before he could explain anything, however, Renata came out of the house looking for him. ‘There’s a visitor inside for you,’ she said.
‘What, me?’ Kid said.
‘Yes, you,’ Renata said.
There was something in her expression that Kid couldn’t quite figure out. Something in her tone as well. Kid followed her back to the house, where she stepped aside to let him in. In the dim light he saw a man lounging in one of the hammocks. He stood up when Kid appeared – a tall stranger wearing a grey vest, pin-striped trousers held up with braces, flip-flop sandals and a baseball cap.
Kid squinted to see more clearly. The man stepped forward and Kid made out eyes the colour of amber, a face which marked the man out as a Creole and one other distinguishing feature, in that the man looked just like him.
An older version maybe, but he had Kid’s face.
The man stared at Kid and Kid stared back. For a moment neither of them spoke, then the man said, in a rumbling voice, ‘Well, looks like Ai ended up in de right village den.’
He stuck out his hand. Kid stared at it. ‘You’re not …’ he said, and broke off.
The man replied. ‘Ai am,’ he said. ‘You got dat right. Ai’s de one yu been lookin’ for. An’ you must be mah boy.’
30
CATO & SON
Kid’s father took him in his arms. His long-lost father picked him up and gave him a back-slapping, monumental bear-hug. It was one way, Kid supposed, of greeting a son you’d never met. He extracted himself, not knowing what he should do or say. Dimly, he was aware of Renata standing in the doorway watching them, her eyes accusing him of having lied to her about his father being dead.
It was over, wasn’t it? No girl wanted a man who lied to her. Kid had wanted to find his father, but not like this, and definitely not just now. The timing couldn’t have been worse. The thing with Renata was over before it ever started, and the thing with Blue Bank Springs as well.
Renaldo came hurtling into the house, delighted that yet another stranger had decided to turn up. He flung himself at the older version of Kid, knocked off his baseball cap and cried out, ‘Was-yur-name?’
Kid’s father laughed, stooped down and swung Renaldo up in the air. He liked little kids, he said, completely unabashed before the son he’d abandoned when he was a little kid himself.
Kid bit his tongue. Now wasn’t the moment for bitterness, he told himself. This was the father he’d come all this way to find. He watched in dumb amazement as Renaldo worked his way up on to the stranger’s shoulders and started pulling his hair.
‘Was-yur-name?’ he asked again, and Kid’s father introduced himself as Marcus Aurelius Cato, adding, ‘But Cato’s good nuff name fu mi. Plain ol’ Cato – dat’s what pipple call me.’
It was Cato after that. Kid’s father never said to call him ‘Dad’, and Kid wouldn’t have done so anyway. Not knowing what else to do with a father he’d never met before, he took him on an excursion of the village, accompanied by a procession of children. His father declared himself enchanted with everything he saw, but Kid couldn’t figure out whether he meant it or not. This man was an unknown quantity. They might be related – might even have the same face. But Kid didn’t know the first thing about him.
And Cato didn’t appear about to enlighten him. He asked plenty of questions, both about the village and about Kid, wanting to know what he was doing here, why he’d come, what he thought of Belize and even how much money he had, and whether he kept it on him or in the bank. But in return he gave nothing away, not on the subject of how he’d got here and, even more so, not on why he’d come. Kid felt confused and disoriented. This wasn’t what finding his father was meant to be like, and it definitely wasn’t how his day was meant to end up.
‘How did you find me?’ he demanded to know.
Cato looked cagey. He said that Wide-World Treks had given him Kid’s address. Kid didn’t know whether to believe him. Something here just didn’t add up.
‘How did you know about Wide-World Treks?’ he asked.
Cato shrugged. Again the cagey look. He’d looked for Kid round the bars of San Ignacio, he said and Craig’s name had come up.
‘But why San Ignacio?’ Kid persisted. ‘Why there, of all places? And why were you looking for me, anyway? How did you know I was even in Belize?’
By this time, Cato actually had the grace to look abashed. ‘Yu sure is full of questions,’ he said. ‘Well, Ai’s a brave man, so Ai tell you alla ’bout it, maan to maan. Tell yu de truth, Ai’s de one who fix dat note sending yu to Cayo. Ai tried to mek yu go away, if yu muss know. Ai sent yu on a false trail so yu wouldn’t track mi down. Ai didn’t want a son, to mi great shame. But now Ai do. Ai got to tinking, and so here Ai am.’
Kid digested this piece of information. His father stood before him like a guilty child hoping for forgiveness, but Kid felt too betrayed for anything like that. He thought of all the places the lies in his father’s note had led him, and the terrible things that could have happened. That they hadn’t was no thanks to the man before him now. And yet here he stoo
d, hoping to be told that now he and his son had found each other nothing else mattered.
‘How did you know I was even looking for you?’ Kid demanded in a cold, angry voice.
Cato flashed a dazzling smile at him. That was obvious, he said. ‘Yu tink a boy wid mi face could walk through Belize City widout word gettin’ back?’ he said. ‘All Belize City knows Marcus Aurelius Cato. Ai’s a famous city resident.’
Kid remembered the Sisters of Jesus woman who’d tried to save his soul. She hadn’t known his father, he said, and neither had the people at the hotel. Neither had the people in the music store, nor the ones in the supermarket.
‘You’re not as famous as you think,’ he said.
Cato laughed. ‘Dose pipple was tryin’ to protect yu,’ he said. ‘Of course dey knew mi. Dey was trying to mek yu go away.’
‘And why would they do that?’
‘Bikaaz yur daddy used to be a bad man,’ Cato said. ‘But not any more. Mi ways are mended. Ai have a son. Ai am reformed.’
Reformed or not, that evening after supper a conversation sprang up between Cato and Reuben about land. The two men sat outside, looking across the village towards the mountains. Cato told Reuben ‘maan to maan’ that he had a nice place here, which could be worth a bit, and offered his services as an honest broker if he ever wanted to sell his land. The whole transaction was priced, right down to Cato’s cut, before Reuben could even explain that he didn’t own the land.
‘Not dat Ai’s takin’ advantage,’ Cato hastened to reassure. ‘Ai’s de Top Director of one of de country’s major land agency development tings. Ai has framed qualificashuns on mi office wall. Yu can come and see dem any time. In addition, dis boy of mine is comin’ in wid me, which means you always have access to de top man. So if mi offer is of interest …’
He got no further. Kid, who’d been sitting at some distance, head in hands, feeling as if his whole world had come crashing in on him, looked up and said, ‘This boy of yours is doing what?’
