Translated Accounts

by Kelman, James

  Yes, said the younger son.

  My older colleague looked again to myself. And all others now looked to me. If I might have answered, or if to have said something. I looked only to the floor, only could do so.

  The younger son said to me, I may say it? I remember how you told it to us.

  And so he told it. His father had turned from the window, watching him. I listened but did not hear, it was my own story of when the great man, the imitator, was with us. One night we had journeyed a long distance and had found a location and were resting. It was in one camp. Military so were closeby, we could not accept hospitality from local people, if bringing further recriminations against themselves. We had not much food, very little, and it was night and it was quiet among us, trying to sleep but it was not good, but for the great man who had begun to speak, telling all stories, and colleagues listened and found it good, but I could not hear these stories, could not concentrate on any such thing that might happen and why this was, only, that my companion had returned earlier that day and was there by my side, if I may speak of her, I lay closer to her and how we were not touching, that that could not happen between us in this situation, and yet people were not fools, it was now known we were together we two, if colleagues saw one they saw two and when the great man was telling all such stories in all such voices in support of colleagues through this difficult time I could hear nothing, nothing, breathing only in her presence, my companion, and I whispered so to her, and she whispered in reply how when the great man had been making all colleagues laugh there only was a loudness inside her head, filling her ears and brains, crashing of many voices, many many voices, voices of our people, providing a discordant thing, lacking all humour and she felt then she might soon be dead.

  What more. More. This was that time, difficult time. How it was told by the younger son, I did not hear. All others listened closely to him. Afterwards the father and mother were looking to myself. It had gone well for their son. I nodded to them but not to their son. I would speak with him, also our older colleague who now gestured with his hand to me, saying, Our people have a love for stories.

  All people, said the lawyer, putting the cigarette to his mouth, now looking to his watch.

  32

  “I cannot remember”

  She argued how it arrived as a thought, to set down my time on this planet Earth as of a life yet to come, her own life, having the faint recollection, from infancy, sensation of death, between the anticipation and reality, recognising its similarity to leavetakings such as this one, one of hers, of myself.

  Voices were everywhere, peering into our heads, singing in our own rhythms. They are real enough, those reminders. Elderly people know it. She would say it. Some say memories. I do not say memories for these may not be as they were, and they belonged to her.

  Outside of itself knowledge of the source derives from a mixture of fancy and hearsay

  She no longer desired knowledge. She said so, looking to myself. She made use of the eyes in my head. Illusions are from inside. She said it to me. It is that my vision is coloured, and always has been coloured, beginning from separation, from my parents and family. She spoke to me as though understanding was hers, belonging only to herself.

  This formed the leavetaking.

  I had not set these things down and wonder of these rare occasions when it did fill my head. Not now. Illusions are from inside. Yes. I knew I could. It did not stop me.

  What then. I do know these questions, she did not know these questions, not at that more complex time. Such as necessary, as might give

  I thought that I may have been

  if that I was

  Thus that it was false. But it became only false. were-couldby w I wasI thought that i. It was a fantasy while waking and no dream. could could, can feel it nowwe tightly yetwaslingd.

  This necessity was the stronger on myself our time was so limited nowas in relating past, if past to the present, why, must I, but if so then as that I might be ruthless.

  Much that is said is said needlessly yet the formality may seem necessary.

  She thought we might become a history, we so might be one, saying this, whispering this

  insufficient, engendering false modes of living

  By attempting such a manoeuvre I gave access, was giving access, by virtue of the attempt, giving access

  Already false, in the act of consideration. By mapping “the considering” I thought to be offering a demonstration. The distinction between the two lay in the store set unto them

  She wanted to tell of her time, herself myself, we two, becoming a history. I would be approaching that method

  The arrogance was all that I had but not so herself for whom always lay more than that and from outside of herself, having marked her life since childhood,

  since childhood she had marked her life, its moments. The time passed. I now relate some of this, of that life, having had, lives continuing

  My heart is a normal heart, signalling my death when the beating stops. Her death as the beating stops

  I have no language now. My means of communication are holy, created by myself for myself. Her disappearance now.

  I can tell of her time, it may be all that I can do, setting myself here, one thing already known, its existence, by virtue of that, while beyond, considered by ourselves as the possibility, a possibility. My wife was here and she was mother to a child, my daughter, I was with her and them and we do not know.

  33

  “there was no other possibility”

  At these rare instances an energy was channelled into my body as from the living, I could feel it, I knew. What do you say. Below the window were clouds. I was on a staircase. There were staircases. Down below it could rain, but if where I was no, it could not. And if falling I would drop through clouds, causing them to burst. These are patterns of thought and imagery derives from there. I watched four birds, these were doves, one followed one, one followed one.

  My eyelids had closed, resting. Always dreams. These are from life, forming life. We were trudging through mud, a valley, by the side of an old track, railway line, as so, I do not think it, do not know. From the long grass might come an animal. On this occasion any occasion. The area was dangerous and people did not go there. It was that section, of course, there were bodies. We discovered them, yes in the grass but not only there. It might be as though individuals had lain themselves down toward that purpose, await their own death. People now see it in this way. Now they do. They have said it to me if these were strange characteristics of people, how people so act, and were these older people only, or younger, men, women, did they so act.

  I had climbed from there that evening. At the side of the main entrance was a parapet, the stone surrounding fractured, short flight of steps, I remember. There were ferns, we walked through them, picking into rubble, see for anything, no not trinkets, not jewellery, sifting gravel, is teeth, and the blades of grass. Weapons. Not food. Weapons, the means by which it might be obtained. Later by the outer perimeter I walked a route I had come to know, it led me via areas known for danger. I feared others, of course, but this danger also as advantage, it could be adapted. I saw people, they had manufactured a fire, making tea or coffee, brewing it, the odours, also burning waste, and wood. A girl then was with me. She had lived at the sea, a harbour. She said all there dreamt of travel. Now she dreamt of home it was returning to there. I told her I also dreamt of the past as future but let it remain so, what it is we are to do.

  These people also prepared food. We stood there, not able to leave. I saw some fellow arrive and gesture at us. None responded that I saw. And he came then to us, asking who were we, why we were there, to where we would travel. I had a bag, I hoisted it onto my shoulders. It was the more simple move, making it and so I did make it. The rain also. It was the time to leave, if this was possible. If it was not possible. The fellow looked to the girl, yes staring. There was the yellow shawl or scarf, she was wearing it, lace material. He reach
ed with his hand towards it and I saw worry on her face and she said, No, but he gripped the shawl or scarf, pulling it off, from her shoulders yes others now were staring to her and he now touched her arm where it was bare and I saw on her face

  I could say nothing to him or to them all and wished for something, and if I had something, I had nothing

  She had her fingers on the end of the yellow scarf, she gestured at him, it was threatening. How could she threaten it was ludicrous absurdity she should do so and antagonistic to this man hostile to him, what else it might be. He frowned at this, what else he would do, looking to me quickly. A distance from us I saw one other man raising a hand as to wave but turning his head, signal also to one other man. The girl also saw and her face. Now my memory entering, seeing her father, arm round her mother and she turned from them that she might not see them for a last time, spending this last moment not seeing them but these were not here, simply myself, herself myself. What was the girl thinking. She was with me but I do not know. Why she was with me also I do not know I do not know. I remember it seemed I was sleeping sleeping and salt spray was into my face if from the harbour, lifted beyond that wall, splashing. If I was to vomit I thought I might be, I was vomiting and the clouds spun and the sudden squawking of the birds, seabirds, noise of the sea, but where was the sea, there was no sea where I then was. If a river was there, yes, I think so, if from the mountains where rivers may come. These flow downwards, of course it is possible. I remember, it was not in that town, it was beyond, and was rising, land, into mountains, these are from borders.

  During the weeks prior to then we were together, conversations leading to smiles, smiling, soon to silence, discomfort, finally. I said her parents were there. Yes, and other family members. Her father watched her, thinking I did not notice this, he watched us, thinking how she was with me but I did notice. What could he do, nothing, nor the mother. I was with their daughter, yes, while they were present. Others too were present. We lay together, as children not as children, whispering not whispering, sharing air to breathe, musty air, and touching, touching, we had a covering, lay under the covering, we touched yes, yes each other, who, of course. And the securitys might be there, yes. But in the dusk, half light, no light, shadows and dark, darkness, no one to see. We would remain together as so, if it was possible. I stroked her arm by the scar, there was a scar on her shoulder. Light had faded. She had the scar, I knew it, could feel it also, touch its lines, and if the security returned. One security did not care. He saw us, he did not care. Other securitys were there, we parted. Not to break the peace between us. Then also the movement of the clouds, blues, greys. The change had come.

  But these others, family, mother, father.

  what past, thinking of the past

  She studied me, studied her parents, what would become of us. I thought she would choose them. She did not. I touched her with my fingers and she trembled, and inside her, I thought her sickened, that I witnessed her hatred of myself but this was wrong, she grasped my hand and held it there to be at her my fingers if I was inside her. I was from another place, I did not know, I had thought an obligation existed and was settling it. I surprised her in an argument with her mother. It was later, it was myself, she argued for myself, for myself. I walked on.

  Now by the outer perimeter, burning waste, and wood and she

  I saw no other possibility, none other existed.

  She could not look at me but with embarrassment. But then as now from her mother, hatred, what else.

  I did not know it then. It was to have made a difference and did not. And at that age, no, I do not think so.

  I remember her story of leavetaking, her family, that the moment of departure was magical. On a pier listening to the calls of the birds, smells of the sea, vegetation, clarity of air, a fresh wind nipping her ears, as she said, of her ears being nipped, girl’s ears. At the pier the water lapping against the wooden stanchions, tiny fish among the weeds, also debris, she recalled debris. What debris? Signs of what? She did not know, but was shaking in excitement, heart resounding, having to grasp her ears. She said how she would place herself by the shutters of windows and listen for a long period. I listened to her for long periods. I could not tell the time but by the light and the sky, now she might sleep, yet in her mind as she said how her father yet was watching

  white ash, charred wood in lumps, blackened, disfigured; encircled by the bodies. And voices, mutterings. I heard them, saw no other possibility, none other existed. This by the outer perimeter, burning waste, and wood and dangerous for some, us, I knew it and by the fire was a smell

  They were there at the fire, rain drizzled, the breeze only slight. I had become aware of a whining and moaning, it was all about me. What was it. I stopped walking. The girl was not now with me. Where these men might be. Who was with me. I listened, uncertain of the direction. These sounds were not human, not the girl, not those who were at the fire, and so walking, walking, and I reached the end of there and thought of the river, there was a river, and a footbridge, and I crossed this footbridge, and to the other side, being anywhere now, away, no other possibility, none other existed.

  34

  “if she screamed”

  The security was pointing at his penis. This is the enemy, he said, why do you blame me? It is it. I blame it too. Look, I do not even call it him! He smiled and watched us, holding it out so. It was not erect. He gripped the girl by the back of the head and inserted it into her mouth, it too soft to push. He now could have held her but did not. The girl’s father retched, he retched again and drops of vomit were on his chin and upper lip. We saw also that he urinated. Another security shook his head, wagged his finger at the girl’s father and said to us, He is able to bear this, he is not a man, a man would have killed himself. Instead he messes on the ground, messes in his trousers. What kind of people are you, are you people.

  A woman nearby whispered, and with surprise in her voice grappling with an answer, They do not think we are human beings. They do not think we are human beings. This is why, they do not think what we are.

  Another of the securitys heard her and knocked at her between the shoulders. She fell to the ground. None went to her. She lay, she was stunned, she stared back, seeing us but also the staring, staring of ourselves, now taking the weight of her body on the elbow, daring not to move. Not even move, the position of her head, she could not accomplish that, that it might antagonise men further. And so the violence of the act perpetrated on the girl was not witnessed by her.

  each of us

  space

  each of us, the girl too.

  Afterwards the security cleaned his penis on her hair, looking to us. He was thinking of something, what he might say, if he might say something to us. I did not see him looking to his colleagues until another had stepped forwards. Now he smiled and called something which I did not hear. Behind me securitys were laughing, quietly done. The second now opening his trousers, erection was there, moving to the girl, stepping as to pass the woman on the ground. From behind another security shouted at her, You are not good enough. You see that.

  Here the woman began banging her head on the stonework. I heard the noise of this, the thumping, and if she screamed, I do not know. I would think of what she had said, if she was mistaken, perhaps, if this could be something she believed, perhaps not, I would think about it, considering it only if later

  passage from my mouth, my stomach

  but how long since I had eaten, later

  it is also a numbness, below the jaw, upper neck

  our eyes are open

  35

  “I have brains”

  And in that section to the top of the stairs, the smell having altered. It was a germicide. I was alert, my upper body now settled from the tensing and from behind the sound, the tread of a security whom I was acquainted. Surprising to me, thinking he was gone, perhaps dead. If someone had told me he had been so taken, perhaps so, such rumours, perhaps one had been whispered. N
ow here in this section four securitys, and seeing this one. He did not recognise me. He walked, hands clasped together, a bold walk confident walk. No weapon visible as without fear, he it was, certainly, encroaching into my space as I into his, yes, I saw his recognition. The information was to myself. I had known him since selection days, his, mine, boyhood. If there is hatred, what it may be. We speak of it. How that we do.

  We continued, staring ahead only and the odour here was strong, sweet-smelling. My body ached, we all of us. Before me a woman tripped at the heels of the man to the front, catching onto the woman to her side, mumbling mumbling. In falling the mumbling did not cease, nor afterwards, rising onto her feet, clutching at her bag, glancing only one moment sideways and I saw her eyes, something there to myself. I listened to her mumbling, it was not prayers, I could not hear the words. Her voice was accented, if from way south southeast, it is possible. What it was of this woman, something for me, I could not think, yet something, I knew it, I had seen her before this period, where I had seen her, if I had. But we see faces, and this odour clouding, sweetish, thickly, it might choke me, also other voices, ravings, and children also were there. A rush of words now from the woman, the securitys hurrying us, she looking to one side and here I was and she frowned, if seeing someone, looking to me but not seeing me, perhaps into herself, how that she survived, marvelling that she did so, yes, and such a thing was possible. She looked again to myself, looking to my body. It is true that we see the bodies, we see sinews, muscles there, we see all strengths, if there are weakened parts, what futures may be. Now this woman, her arms as pencils, carrying her one bag only bag, staring ahead, lifting it lightly, bag of air. I saw she was older, her neck also thin, stalk of a flower, dancer, the skull shape, her head, forty years old I think. She kissed me, looking to my body, kissing me, felt for my genitals, moving from me, looking sideways.