Incompatible

by Mauricio R B Campos

  She would be one of the six cyclists who would ride, one of whom was a civil police officer, riding always with weapon. Despite she feared the fact of being along with a boy wanting to save the world from the scoundrels, a nervous trigger, as they say, the fact of having someone armed among them gave her a sensation of security. In addition, there were other dangers in the rural zone beyond the bicycle thieves. Some years ago, there was a trend of wild boar meat in the barbecues and many producers of the region ended up raising these kinds of beasts. A big producer maintained the wild swine in a large fence, enough to keep them captivated; but at one night, after a big tempest, the entire herd escaped. The flood was so large that a close ravine was led to the fence and the amount of mud formed an uphill from where they could escape. Since then the hunting of such animals is free in the area, but they are very resistant animals and have become a plague. The boars walking in flocks destroy the plantations and are dangerous when they meet people.

  “Look who arrived with her new bicycle!” Erica joked.

  Lara greeted the guys, and they left quickly heading to Washington Luiz Road, anxious to take the big slope leading Castelo Station. There were more or less two miles of slight declivity, which can be seen as a paradise for those who ride a bike.

  They stopped at the station to reload their little bottles and crossed the lanes heading to a dirt road that departed next to the entry of the station.

  “That other little road takes to the Coqueiros Valley” Erica showed it to her friend, aiming to another road parallel to the one where they were getting into “it’s a wonderful place, with a beautiful sight, someday we’re going there”.

  “Isn’t that little road the one that reaches Analândia?”

  “Yes, going that way you get to the couscous maker.”

  “And where are we going to?”

  “This road passes by the Itaguaçu Farm, it’s a beautiful way too, you’re going to love it” Erica clarified, smiling.

  They went in a much slow rhythm through the dirt road, carefully not to get to the floor, as they called the falls. A black van approached them coming through the same way they had just scrolled. The car honked and they passed by the group. There was someone with sunglasses and a cap sitting in the passenger seat with the arm out of the window. He called the police officer and asked for information:

  “Hi. Do you know where Tibiriçá Ecovillage is?”

  By hearing that voice, Lara felt a shiver covering her body. It was Cesar, Cesar Del Manto, her former boyfriend. She passed by the van that went slowly; the police officer informed them they had taken the wrong road; they should go back and take the lane to Descalvado[29], to take a dirt road in Aparecidinha later. The black van had big golden letter: Del Manto Produções Visuais (Del Manto Visual Productions) and a kitsch symbol, a letter M within a D. And there he was, the same easy smile and an air of the last Coke of the desert that molded his shameless face. And wasn’t the son of a bitch working with visual productions? It was not the movies, but, at least, something he liked to do. She stared him well at the sunglasses trying to see his face behind the dark lens and then she turned ahead and accelerated the pedaling.

  Would he have recognized her? Would it be possible? She remained with this doubt and then she looked back to see if she could have any sign of recognition. She could not find any signs of recognition, but both him and the individual driving the van were looking at her; actually, looking at her ass. She cursed him mentally and turned her attention to the road before her, going fast and leaving the group behind.

  She was wearing long cyclist clothing, that covered all the stretch of her arms, and her tattoos; she was using sunglasses and helmet, and her hair, that Cesar had known red and long, was now in Chanel and blonde.

  She put that thought away, no, he had not recognized her.

  The healthy life she had been living since, almost three years ago, she had left that apartment in São Paulo, allied to the routine of exercises, had certainly modified the way men looked at her. She wondered if today he would betray her with Bia. She had never compared herself with Bia; she truly always imagined the problem was on him, his nature was to betray and he could be with the last Miss Universe that he would be found with a bitch in some drab corner, fucking in the back seat of the car. He was low level, mean... But what was happening? She wondered. Cesar was nobody, a nobody for her, a page of her past that she had turned, he did not even deserve her hate.

  She stopped the bike raising a cloud of dust by braking in the road and looked back. The van had maneuvered and was going back to the road. Her bike friends were still far, pedaling in her direction. She waited for the arrival of the group standing, with the bike beside her. She felt she was dizzy and when she found herself confused, she fell sitting by the road, the brand-new bicycle falling on the other side and she dragged on the floor. How would her legs have failed that way? She could not say; it had been some weeks she was pedaling; she thought she had taken the rhythm. Hey, Lara, who are you trying to deceive? her consciousness sounded deep from her heart, whispering truths.

  If in one hand it was surprising to see Cesar again after so much time, she felt anger of herself for not being able to ignore that vision and treat him like the insect he was. What was that? Hate? Frustration? Anger? There was certainly too much anger; she did not eat Portuguese pizza anymore; she took a mortal hate. She wanted to meditate, take all that from her mind for some seconds, but in her new life it was not allowed. That was part of the old ego. But she could pedal, pedal until that anger was diluted in her muscles.

  “What happened?” Erica asked, leaving the bicycle and helping Lara to stand up again. “Did you fall?”

  “I lost my balance, I don’t know” she answered, taking the water bottle and drinking.

  “Do you want to come back?”

  “No, I’m all right, let’s go, I don’t want to bother the ride of anybody.”

  Erica held the handlebar of her friend’s bike and forced her to look into her eyes:

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I feel OK. Let’s go.”

  “You are pale, it’s like you’ve seen a ghost. Do you think your pressure fell? Did you eat anything before coming?”

  “Now the other cyclists had already positioned in circle around the two. She felt like saying: Yes, that’s it, I saw a ghost! But she would not expose in front of unknown people. She already trusted Erica, but who were the other people of the group?”

  “Let’s go, guys, I’m gonna be fine” she spoke with the most confident voice she could use, hoping it was true.

  CHAPTER 23

  Arthur woke up feeling relaxed. He stretched his hand to the mobile phone to know what time it was. A half past eight. After one week waking up about seven o’clock, he imagined he could sleep until eleven, since he had no commitment on Saturday, but his body had apparently taken the rhythm. The fact is that he was feeling good. He stretched his body and imagined it would be great to have a morning shower to start the day. Today he would not have his hand dirty with mortar. He made up his bed, took one change of clothes, a towel, and went to the bathroom. The long bath days were over; in Tibiriçá, the rule was to save all the resources of the planet, and the most precious resource was water.

  After a quick and fresh shower, he headed to the community kitchen, thinking he would find a delicious homemade bread with farm coffee. Beside each bed there was a basket of clothes made of bamboo with a lid. When he looked at his, he remembered it was the day to wash clothes. In the verandah of the lodging, there was a tank, and there was a clothesline at the bottom of it.

  When he returned from the USA, where he studied, he thought he would never wash his own clothes anymore, but that was becoming a routine. What a difference! All he had to do there was going to the laundry, putting his clothes in the machine and pressing a button. And now he had to wash everything by hand, in a concrete tank. Well, Fermin had said he would need to learn a little of everything, and he


  remembered having read somewhere that learning different things was a kind of brain bodybuilding.

  When he arrived at the community kitchen, he noticed an abnormal move. The old stove and wood oven were fuller than usual, and there were more people at the tables next to the space where they cooked the delicious foods. In the ecovillage, there was a schedule of residents who helped in the community kitchen; where there were always different faces; but he noticed in that morning there were many more people, and it was his first Saturday there. Wouldn’t there be any weekend activity? he wondered.

  When he sighted Clara, his roommate, he approached her to ask if every Saturday was so.

  “No, it’s because today we have guests, did you forget?”

  He had actually forgotten the notorious visit of the recording crew. They were preparing a real banquet! There were cakes and cakes: carrot, cornmill, chocolate and corn cakes, all fresh and hot. Cornmill broa, little breads filled with cheese produced in a farm close to there, corn pudding and other delicious foods typical of the countryside.

  “Waw! I think I’ll become a documentary filmmaker” he exclaimed, taking a piece of cake of carrot covered with chocolate.

  He took a cup of coffee that he was expecting since he woke up, a piece of hot bread and one more piece of cake, this time of chocolate. It seems someone is trying to cause the best impression, he thought.

  Feeling he was annoying them in the middle of all that movement, he ate quickly to return to the lodging. He could not help there because he did not understand anything of cooking, let alone those June celebration recipes. However, before he left, he went to Clara again. She was cooking a mass along with other women. The master’s degree candidate was the opposite of what he considered to be attractive; he saw what one agreed to call a radical social justice warrior[30] in her; something that moved him away. Arthur saw Manichaeism with certain reserves. But all needed powder soap some moment of their lives; this is one of the inexorable truths of mankind. She was wearing a T-shirt of the Mozilla Foundation, with a red dinosaur looking like a foolish type in the center of a circle. Arthur thought that dinosaur reminded him of the stupid dinosaur that was the best friend with Stuart Pankin of the Dinosaurs series.

  “Cool t-shirt” he started a conversation. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Yes.”

  “I still didn’t leave the ecovillage since I arrived, and there were things I didn’t know I would need. Can you lend me some powder soap? I pay you latter or buy it when I go to the city.”

  “Yes, you can you it, the secret of completeness is sharing, little guy.”

  Back to the lodging, he washed his clothes and stretched them on the line at the bottom. He received a call from his mother:

  “I’m fine, mom.”

  “Where are you? You need to tell me; you can’t simply disappear like this...”

  “Mom...”

  “You cannot be without calling your mother. Please, promise.”

  “Ok. I promise you.”

  “Now tell me where you are.”

  “I’m living in a lodging of Tibiriçá Ecovillage.”

  “Where’s it?”

  “It’s right here in the city, actually it’s not too far from the farm.” “Ecovillage? What’s that? Did you join Greenpeace? I never knew you were interested in saving the world. You don’t even recycle.”

  “It’s not that, mom. That is, more or less... what I mean is that it’s not only that.”

  “What are you doing there?”

  “I work.”

  “You know something, Arthur, I think it’s something to do with girls. Are you living with one of those hippies, hipsters or whatever the name of those kinds today? One of those girls who don’t take a shower not to spend water, nor shave their bodies and use deodorant?”

  “No, mother. There’s nothing to do with this.”

  “Are you gay?”

  “Damn... Mom, I’m ok, everything’s all right. Don’t worry. I’ll call you every now and then.”

  “No way, not every now and then, call me at least twice a week.”

  “Ok, I need to hang up.”

  “Wednesday and Saturday. Otherwise, I will call you.”

  “Ok, mom. Bye bye.”

  He hanged up the phone and sat down in the little wall of the verandah observing the greenish landscape of the property. The sky without clouds shone of a deep blue; a toucan passed flying by the lowland, disappeared from his range of vision and went to the wood behind the lodging. He took his e-book reader and read until almost lunchtime, when he returned to the community kitchen. The delicious dishes were placed on the table, covered by a thin tape to get insects away. He passed his eyes by the dishes with his look; there were delicious things there; he approached, but Placido detained him: “We’re waiting for the Film crew.”

  He got disappointed.

  “Ask Nancy to make a little dish for you there at the stove” he completed and smiled.

  Arthur did as he suggested, and Nancy prepared a delicious dish with jackfruit meat, vegetables pie, greens and rustic potatoes. He ate at a corner and then took some coffee mousse, jackfruit mousse and pudding. The people who had a piece of land in the ecovillage kept on looking and salivating, but they would wait for the arrival of the recording crew, which was so expected. Since he did not want to appear in that reality show, he thought he would rather take a walk for digestion.

  He followed through the woody road where the houses of the ecovillage were profiled. At the end of the way there was an entrance to the wood. He followed that way taking the chance to feel the fresh air that savannah around him provided; the refreshment of the wood, the silence around him, only broken by the sound of birds and insects that he hardly imagined which were. It was easy to feel in peace with himself there. The track was well defined; the residents of the community would certainly use that refuge of the Atlantic Forest a lot; it finished along a cliff at the edge of which there was a wooden bench.

  He sat down and enjoyed the astonishing sight. The wood behind him was in a plateau that expanded for miles away; the bench was positioned southwards of plateau, cut buy rocky formations called basaltic cuestas. Looking eastwards, he appreciated the beauty of the basaltic walls that winded and formed large steps on the relief, below a green plateau that waved through the horizon, where coconut trees and grey rocks delighted the breeze that blew intermittently.

  He mentally revisited the places where he passed by in the last times, and even the fields of Galicia did not look as beautiful as that green immensity that propagated endlessly. In the sky, the clouds seemed to be immovable. Under the refreshing shadow of the wood, he felt a peace that he did not find as a pilgrim on the other side of the Atlantic.

  He closed his eyes. What would he be missing now? A companion?

  Would the architect enjoy being by his side appreciating that bucolic landscape? He would not probably ever see her again, he thought, and, remembering the magnetic smile of that woman, he lay down on the bench and, rocked by the soft whisper of the wood, he fell asleep.

  * * *

  Arthur took a nap of about half an hour or so. Then he sat again in the bench and stared one more time at that precious landscape. Whoever had the idea of setting that bench there about five meters by the cliff would deserve a prize. What a new world would Placido and his friends be building in that farm!? He never imagined a community would work that way. What drew his attention the most since he arrived there was the constant search for independence of the ecovillage’s dwellers. The water for all the houses and other buildings came from an artesian well; the heating of water of the houses was based on solar power, and there were even some houses with full independence of electric power, thanks to sophisticated systems for capturing and use of solar power. The Internet all the dwellers used was retransmitted to the houses thanks to radio waves. The idea of having the best of comfort of the modern world without resigning to a life style that embraced environment and interacted
with it in a non-aggressive and sustainable way was the principle that ruled all the actions of that group of dreamers who had the courage to dare.

  Tibiriçá was a dream that was fulfilled; the proof that another world was possible, and this confirmation was contrary to everything that was taught to him until then. A group that planted a good part of their own food and would still sell the exceeding part in a street market of organics in the city twice a week? From what he had realized, they were building a new way of life day after day. The large majority of the dwellers had some fixed income, some were retired, other received rent from properties they had left in the city; in addition to those who were professionals who could perform their activities anywhere with access to the Internet. It was the ideal home for freelancers, because the living expenses in community was much lower than in the urban habitat.

  All allied to that landscape that gave him a totally new life perspective. He stood up and returned through the track whistling a glad melody. The nap was invigorating and also served for him to completely forget about the so expected film crew. When he arrived at the kitchen, all were at the end of the lunch, and Placido called him, killing his hope to pass unnoticed by all that cinematographic circus.

  He approached and was introduced to three people: Cesar, a cameraman and an assistant coach.

  “Arthur lives here in the lodging; he used to work as a salesperson in that society that destroys the personalities and molds everyone in its obsolete way of life” Placido said, holding him by his shoulder; proud to introduce the one he believed had managed to save himself from the ferocious world of the wild capitalism. “Yesterday he was accepted by the community and he helps us with his labor. We’re building a library and a collective Internet room, isn’t it?”