and in this way, with naked bodies feeling a soft breeze, looking at the kites that flew over our square in Bishop’s Beach, I, Charlita and Pi, better known as Comrade 3.14, jumped the shells and the holes of the crabs that fled in fear of us, we who sought the experience of the salt water on our bodies, hungry for white surf in the dark sea at that moment of partying and laughter, we were there, in search of where our bodies were able to dance gently on the air in our lungs that had been spared by our shouts, and I remembered the elders who I had met and who sometimes weren’t capable of believing in the simple secrets of children, the elders who thought that the cries of the birds were those we heard in the morning or in the late afternoon, when birds are in a hurry to get somewhere and shout for other birds to get out of their way, but those cries, in spite of being shouted, aren’t very true, since birds are like children, they need to be beneath the water to give a true shout, it wasn’t a child who told me that, it was a bird, Charlita and Pi know it, we all heard the birds shouting beneath the water of the sea of Bishop’s Beach, but not that night
at that moment we three were alone in the dark water, diving to shout our blue shouts, and I was thinking: what colour is a bird’s shout? or, as Sea Foam said
“a true shout is only to be imagined or heard by our individual ears, like a true secret, because no one else believes in it”
it was good to feel our bodies, with our skins hot, in the pleasant temperature of the water, turning our heads from time to time to glance and see whether Foam might not be there nearby and wish to bathe with us, “you’re crazy,” Charlita said, “he only bathes alone, then he stands up to see the fowling stars,” and we laughed, how was it that we knew so many of his expressions, “nobody forgets the blinking brilliance of a fowling star,” Pi remembered, “fowling stars? never heard of them,” Sea Foam used to laugh, “but I’ve already seen a few of them,” we dived as we said these things in the language of blue shouts to see our soaked faces with red, irritated eyes
a last explosion went off at the peak of the Mausoleum and the sky was possessed by a slow gleam
“the world is full of invisible secrets, the sea cools the stars”
I seemed to hear Foam’s voice and I stayed with my head poking up out of the water, even though the others were tugging on me to submerge me more, our shouts of half-pretend fear made a tiny noise and we heard the cries of the birds that were leaving for the far-away, we plunged deeper with mouths open, each of us shouting inside the water of the immense sea
“we invented blue shouts”
someone was going to say later, but for me it was a heap of voices imitating the knots of the Old Fisherman’s net, shouts all drowned from not succeeding in making any noise other than that poorly realized imitation of the voices of the shells that were close to our ears recounting, without cease, the old secrets that the sea never wanted to tell, and it was on observing the others’ laughter, on hearing their blue shouts, that I tried to remember another phrase that Sea Foam had said, but I wasn’t able to speak with my mouth full of water and with the words that would not be heard in the ever so salty water of the sea, I raised my neck and peered at the fresh air above, I made signals for them to swim upwards as well and come to hear this other memory, and they came, but a shameful laughter invaded my chest because in the end I had forgotten the phrase again
“what was it?”
they were asking as they looked at my face of someone who had something to say
“let’s just go swimming”
I invented, swimming gently like that, the three of us almost touching the bottom with our feet because it wasn’t deep here, we were in the pretty area of white sea surf when we saw Sea Foam so close by pretending to be running in a hurry
“look at the sky flooded with stars…the stars are the eyes of the shining universe”
he was inventing circles on the seashore with his body, and his dreadlocks hung with shells, and he shouted the exact phrase that I had just remembered and forgotten
“stars whirling in the black desert…I need stars, compañeros, I need stars…Because the sky doesn’t know how to dance alone!”
15
Deer Komrad Frend Dona Nhéte,
Forgive Portuguese error. Bilhardov write some letter in hurry to leave, no have time give apersonally Dona Nhéte, your grankildren like destroy so Bilhardov hope letter succeed arrive.
Forgive no goodbye like should, everything sudden, organize with frends from groop sad for land in far-away.
Groop take advantage explozhun of Muzzleum to take plane out. If Komrad General no, all groop prisoner, then organize explozhun in Muzzleum. Bilhardov, your frend, never want participate plan explozhun of houses in Bishop beach. Orders of general for end of verk.
Your family here very booteful. Your grandkildren, your kildren, all very simpatiko and like you very much. Bilhardov speak serious when invite Dona Nhéte come with me to Soviet Union. Snov very booteful in Russia, in my village in far-away. But Bilhardov understand that place is with family.
When you reed these letter I don’t know where Bilhardov will be. Maybe can catch all plane to Russia and see family. After Bilhardov write, but they say Angolan mail no verk very gud.
Bilhardov feel miss for Bishop beach and all Komrades, especially Dona Nhéte.
Forgive if explozhun in Muzzleum make problem, but Dona Nhéte family get time and they must start verk again. Bilhardov cover dinamite with sea salt for booteful effect in Luanda sky. The kildren like? One day kildren can rite tell how was Bishop beach after fireverk. Bilhardov no stay see and tell in far-away.
Best vishes, with sadness and respekt, always gud wish for family. Bilhardov no forget conversation with your sister Catarina very funny her mysterious secret only appear when want.
Best vishes to all in Bishop beach.
Bilhardov
Luanda, Bishop beach
Dona Nhéte: pleeze no forget tell your grandsun body of Komrad President Agostinho Neto is gud, away from explozhun. Tell also that alligator in house of Sea Foam is really real. Is Bilhardov who bring food to alligator every thursday. But be carefuclass="underline" alligator grow big…
16
“Is that what tales from before were like a long time ago?”
“Yes, son.”
“So before is a time, Granma?”
“Before is a place.”
“A place really far away?”
“A place really deep inside.”
Glossary
Spanish Expressions
abuela: grandmother
adiós: goodbye
bailamos: we dance