Translated Accounts

by Kelman, James

  Others would listen on behalf of them, and the one whom I was acquainted, dangerous man, I knew it well, I knew also he soon would be dead, and in the pit there all in maggots. Maggots may be good. He would meet maggots, hullo, how are you, he would meet them.

  What.

  All, yes, I hoped so. I was glad, so, if it may be, all of these lives, lifetimes.

  I had entered the area of his vision. When he looked to me it was something, information so conveyed. What was it, wanting something. What I could give him, if something could be given him, what it could be.

  This was a time, he did not acknowledge me. Now that he not done so it would not be done, the secret created by himself.

  It was the interim period. The woman was at my side now. I placed my arm onto her shoulders, if she might have fallen. The security had watched this. His hands clasped behind, shoulders stiffly held and legs also at ease as at attention, security man who was military man.

  Nothing may be said. I say this now as then, yes, as then, I have said it. It was into my memory, I had killed him. I do not know. If my acquaintance with him had been from childhood, infanthood, it is true. If he was a torturer, he was.

  What is justify

  Some were pushed on entry by securitys, they by the door, he and with the others, showing no malice but absently. Now he walked away from them and there was the confidence, what, swaggering, and seeing the dancer-woman, she was by myself, and her mumbling as we entered, her hand now clutching my clothes so that I had difficulty in walking, could not dislodge her, I tried to but she stayed by me and her mumbling mumbling if soon it would be raving until quietened, the securitys rendering her quiet as such people they do so, making silence as they do so. Another woman now in from the door. She was staring, to here, there, searching those to come and now making space. It was for myself, that I might sit by herself. I did not look to her but she saw that I understood and was waiting. She was bigger. I looked for the dancer-woman, sitting somewhere. The bigger woman allowed space beside her, I could not delay, so, now, sitting with her. Moments passed. The bigger woman placed her hand onto mine, pressing, she lifted it, she stared at it. I drew my knees up, rested my head there. Later night had fallen, she moved onto her side, she had a covering, pulling this over herself and later further space into her and allowing herself near to myself so that I lay by her and onto her, my front onto her, she pushing backwards that we rested, so, the covering to me and her hand reaching behind and I had arousal, raising her skirt and opening my trousers, pushing my penis in between her thighs, she settling there, pulling it, and I could move to inside her, her flesh enclosing me, tugging, and my ejaculation would come and my fingers were gripping her. I stayed inside her and was sleeping.

  When I was awake the dancer-woman was there, not far from us, her face revealing nothing. Two elderly women were by her. Others also were there. Soon two securitys came, it was for this dancer-woman. One took her wrist, leading her. She was docile. The security I had known from boyhood days returned by the doorway but now followed these others who took the dancer-woman. I could recall his father many months ago living at one section, how he would look to others, terror, suspicion, what were their thoughts, those of him, towards him, father of him, now glancing this way that way, if we had seen into his mind, what was inside there, thoughts of himself. He knew of my earlier acquaintance with his son, casting it irrelevant. At the outset he spoke with me but becoming silent quite soon and I saw that talk of his old district brought thoughts of his son who now was known for a fashion of brutality, spasms in his head, I saw it, how his son was a torturer, if he might discard these thoughts but could not they so persisted until he embraced them, I saw it, yes, he was scared, but also I saw he gloated, if he himself so was respected. Of course. Why they should not, his son is a great butcher, sees all people, weighing them, seeing his own father also and weighs him, he cannot help this, is this skin rough, does it conceal meat, meat that is only knotted muscle.

  What had happened to the father. Months had passed since my time in that section.

  I knew that the security looked to myself. I wondered that he saw me, recognised me, of course, that I am one human being. The light was bad but I knew it. And what was for myself, what to come. The twisted brains of these people are into our heads. The children learn to hate. The boys become responsible but the mark of this is the extent of that hate. They become capable of greater violence, torture. The more responsible from adolescence is the extent of the torture they may carry out. In considering torture, what torture may be. Brains cannot scream. I have brains. I only nod. I know what these people can do. The dancer-woman was returned walking to our room, the elderly women making space for her, she looking to the floor by her feet, neither left nor right until lowering herself down. I knew that the bigger woman also was watching, would know I was not sleeping.

  36

  “we have our positions”

  What girl with me? She would not share with me. My bed. I said that. She had shared my bed then no longer. I do not know why. She

  she is woman he is man, I am he, he is man, is not woman, we differ one from another. I do not know. Yes. Continued as intimate. Sharing confidences, secrets of herself. Myself not myself, secrets are not easily shared. She would whisper to me late in the evening. I watched her laughing. It was that night with the others I left the room. She was laughing then, yes. The foreign journalist saw me leave, he followed me. You are unlike these others, he said.

  Why is that? I said.

  You are your own self, he said, own person.

  Something, I cannot remember. I stopped then with him. Why speak to me like this. I said, Are you a fool? Surely you must be.

  But he had the confidence. He smiled to me. I could have killed him then I could have killed him, had to turn from him, I could not have concealed it. I thought to tell him outright as I had learned. Yes had been taught, as he said. But if so he would have used it, for such a thing he would have waited and waited, it is what he wanted. Yes he goaded, this was goading from him. Friend, he said and I turned again to him, laughed into his face, Am I your friend?

  Yes, he said.

  No.

  But I am your friend.

  You are not my friend.

  I could be your friend, if I could be.

  You are the fool, doing such injustice to us. You do not understand, cannot, will not learn. It is you.

  Yes he was the fool and I could have killed him. Not then. I did not say then. But what account is this? I can return over everything. Tell me? What is the detail required? If I know I can speak of it, I state only the truth.

  What else, what else is there?

  Not now, not for myself, for us, speaking of we, all of we, or us.

  The other girl also, I can speak of her. The conversation was then behind me, involving three securitys alongside the other, and the foreign journalist also present. It too turned upon the subjection of women, and of the three the one who spoke in whispers was the more forceful. And this was a surprise to other listeners, we outside the group. He said that each time he looked into the mirror and saw himself he grew an erection, and he repeated this with gesture, making gesture. Not secretly but for anyone in vision to see.

  The three securitys were laughing, slapping his shoulder, he was a good fellow. The foreign journalist also. He was there but had moved that he might appear distanced from them. For our sake. That is how I see it. He was not shamed. He required a separation, themself himself, but was not shamed. I do not think so. Yet he it was should have been taken into consideration by us, marked as the object of our greater caution.

  These securitys had not that regard for him. He was of them. Perhaps not of them, but not of us, certainly.

  The space was confined, none having the option but to listen, and their gestures. Of course women, children, also elderly women. All. How could these men not know this. Yes arrogance that they should continue but what form, what form is this arrogance, surely t
he irony of such arrogance? This was not normal arrogance, securitys or men, I saw other forms. What was it, if something other, I do not know

  There were these most evil incidents, horrific incidents. They had occurred most certainly. We all knew of them. And himself I had marked, yes, looking to myself

  I can speak of dreams, presages. I dreamt of him as though of an old acquaintance, the one who spoke in whispers, I may identify him for we had become friends there, yes colleagues, within the dream. Now he is dead, not then. There was a closeness or loyalty, bringing a difference that is distinct. Not to dwell on old history we had a difference of opinion becoming a battle between us, prolonged warfare between us. It was not an amusement but I regarded him as one friend. Those who knew us were surprised we engaged upon this warfare. I myself was sickened. Our acquaintance now ended. I would hear stories of him. Not friendship, acquaintance, I said it.

  A dream, it is only a dream. Some thought I would wish to know everything, they would tell me. There was the girl, others also, women, elderly women, I think not boys. But I did have the curiosity, expecting bad news. I was not given this information, I, we, none of us.

  The foreign journalist spoke. He asked could I calm him. Yes could I calm him I could calm him.

  This is as it was.

  I could calm him. I do not know of others. He had colleagues, I do not know friends, also from early days his brothers, I know that he had them, two or three. Here in our section he spoke to none, I think only to me.

  I cannot say what he said.

  It was dreams. Then he too was dead. I was surprised. It is simply I was so told. I had had no meeting with him, our acquaintance broken.

  The foreign journalist said to me, How could it be that now he is dead? Surely such breaches are always healed, surely he could not have been dead prior to that?

  I said, Prior to.

  The foreign journalist stared at me. What it is you are saying, that it is prior, his death is prior, what is that?

  The foreign journalist thought me deceitful. Why? There was no justification. He thought I had deceived him for some long period of time. I denied this to him. I said to him how his opinion of himself could not be so high if I could deceive him so simply, if this was as he thought. If he was not an astute man. People said so. How could it be? Surely it was not possible? He was embittered, I said it to him. Some wondered about his people, what had happened to them. I did not. I wondered about the one who spoke in whispers and the foreign journalist thinking to turn from him and his comrades, was that possible? I think not. He thought to remain distanced from them while in the company, the company also of ourselves, thinking we might trust him. Elderly women and men, children, boys and girls, all might be present.

  I cannot believe such arrogance. Who is the fool? I said it to him. His death is prior. No, I cannot believe such arrogance

  Of course we have our positions and we argue for them. If unasked I can say this and shall say this. What else must we do. I learned this as we all did. From our politics and our philosophy, we learned, some that we were taught, so they said. Some of us retained a belief in god, a god, and continue to retain that belief I think. If people are to be killed we rationalise. Who cannot. What is to rationalise? If it is to know the nature of the project. We know the nature of the project. Yes there are victims. Of course. We accept it, as do they themselves, their relatives and wider family circle. If they are dead they do not accept it, I am not foolish. When the foreign journalist was with us he attempted to speak to some among us on matters, sensitive matters. He thought to speak so to me. It was said of him that he was presumptuous, impudent, so others said.

  Some, some said so. I heard it. He was thought to be impudent.

  I have no opinion.

  No opinion. I saw him, I heard him. He did not speak to me. Not fully. Of course chatting as conversation. He did not value me, such as me. He desired a core, to enter the core, seeking entry via myself, such as me

  I say this as I can. I give my own thoughts on it, there is no line, designed so, there is none, we have our positions but not that these are/have been designed.

  Yes.

  The foreign journalist thought we all were of a persuasion, he said “persuasion”. I have heard others say this also, “persuasion”. What is “persuasion”? Is “persuasion” martian, for I have heard this. I have heard this said of others that they are martians. When the foreign journalist thought we all were of a persuasion our colleagues did not respond to him but some made a humorous face one to another, inter as between. Some laughed. Hullo comrade-colleague, here from planet Mars. I did not. I was younger. Yes angrier. Than who? Him? Who. Who else might it be? He said to me, Friend

  Friend. I might have strangled him, I had no weapon.

  You are the decoy, he said.

  I am the decoy. You are the fool.

  That was the foreign journalist. I have spoken of him, now also. And now the other fellow, his colleague, I am to talk of him and only of him. Yet I do not know him, only in dreams, images of future events. I said colleague, was he not colleague, I thought he was so. I am not sarcastic.

  Thus of whom, of whom I am to talk if I do not know him, himself himself.

  I said angrier, I was angrier. I said this.

  Angrier than who?

  Myself, angrier, angrier than myself. Yes, both, he and myself, anyone and myself.

  I retain that anger, yes am angry now, these questions are through my brain and numbing me, numbing me I cannot think of what, think of what what am I thinking of

  If I had scorned laughter. I scorned the journalist. For he scorned us. I did not laugh. The colleague, friend, he laughed. I scorned this, laughter. I had not laughed, did not laugh. For many months, yes, it is amusing, I am amused. All people are amused. The foreign journalist was amused. Now he is dead. Yes or what? I do not know. Perhaps he is resurrected. That is my joke. I have repugnance for religion. My childhood was of that, believing in god, gods and prophets and devils and thus are we resurrected, when we are dead we are not so we come then alive again in all our glory, sanctified as non-killers we become in the windows, glass stained by great artists and we children also in the mother, gods mothers, believing of gods and mothers, having the mother, god has the mother.

  Personages are also gods. Are they, I do not know. There are devils.

  These things are amusing. Not amusing.

  Some have these positions also. I had no religion, not now but not then, no. I said I did have. People say that they do not believe, that which they do not believe. What are we to think? There is the truth, falsely stated.

  These were not his people. They did not accept him. He wanted that they might but no, they did not

  “god”, the all-powerful being, and in his son and other prophets, holy people

  What? What I am to say

  if I am to say, what

  37

  “such collusion”

  I had not been so angry before. I considered this. If repercussions had resulted, retrograde movement, if for myself, retrogressive, if it was so. In front of the others I must remain calm. We did observe one another. It was our habit. Who could have had an objection. It had to be done. We searched out those not to be trusted. The man with whom I was sharing would acknowledge this by smiling, by raising his arm as though in surrender. Yes, you do not trust me but this is no personal matter as you acknowledge. I acknowledge also.

  Something now of this matter became clear. I could resist these thoughts, entire notion, reality, of how it was. It was. It was being done to me willingly. It was collusion. It could not be denied. This point so striking, so blatant, yes, as that my hair standing on end. What did they do did they do a thing that might change for me. They refused. What this does signal to me. Their project has been to conceal a reality. These details that are obvious. These people think sometime in ignorance, things are to be moved along, inconsistencies consistencies, they move along that they might fall into place.
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br />   It was happening. Others did not comprehend. I was to inform them. I was to inform them of reality, as so, reality! Yes, this is reality. I was to tell them outright yet in considerate terms so not to upset them, explain to them the situation. I knew they would not hear what that I was saying. I would be speaking but would see they did not hear it. Why that would be if they were not deaf and what I was saying, it would not be heard, they did not suffer impairment. Beyond words, communication, humans, beings we are human. Basic principles of humans.

  I do not believe in a separation between forms of understanding, I do not believe it.

  These and other things are said to them, I also as part of them, said to us. I want to close my ears, screaming at them inside my head.

  I know collusion, concerning silence, silences. It undoubtedly is true. Where potential separation does exist, where is it not acceptable.

  I was angry with these thoughts for they were not my thoughts but thoughts held by others of me, thus being coerced into a situation, one that must be intolerable, I was so. I never could have admitted that, not to the others. And this was known to them, known to these others. Therefore why they would recount to me a story.

  They recount a story to me. I would recount the story. Who could not.

  Already I had explained that this was the case, obviously so, that this is the premise we begin from as humans, human beings, members of that family, building ourselves as a species on concepts such as these, material concepts I can say, beginning from the factual basis we are related therefore love one another, acknowledging yes that we too exist, we too simply it is what it is survival, yes, what may it be else, other than that.

  But these older forms do not interest them. They would suppose me naive. I agree that it can be said I am so naive. I have no interest in forms of denial.

  I do not feel threatened. If I am so threatened what then. If the question is to me, it is to me.