Marido a short story by Lídia Jorge

She crouches behind the pigeon’s coop, the wire netting pressing hard against her face, makes herself as small as possible, as invisible as possible, oblivious to the stench, dares not breathe, listens for the step, his step ... there.

The metallic elevator door is pushed open, it shuts rapidly with a huge clang, actually it needs to be held in place whilst you get in, he curses heavily, he never manages to get in before the door clangs shut, it is an old elevator, at last he gets in, and closes it with a metallic bang. Heavy footsteps on the landing, fumbles at the lock, key falls at his feet as it always does.

                                Hail Mary Full of Grace, save me, protect me,

cover me with your grace, Mother Mary protect me,

protect him, please save me,

Oh! Mother, please, please save me.

The door opens...

Lucia! O Lucia,

The sound reverberates, bursts up and down the ten floors, bounces off every wall, ruthlessly penetrating every home, distorting the quiet and the blessed peace of the dewy morning. Unsteadily he moves to the terrace, past the pigeon coops, palpates the air hazily, searches, searches, she stifles a scream, his unsteady hand brushes past her face placed so close against the wire netting, then he staggers into the living room, falls at the foot of the sofa fast asleep. He sleeps snoring loudly; the room reeks of cheap wine, she tiptoes to their room.

Mother Mary, Thank you, You in your Blessed Goodness have saved me

She is Lucia the caretaker of a small apartment complex, ten apartments; her work is to clean the apartments, check for payments, verify if any repairs need to be done. Every day, very early in the day she starts at the very bottom of the apartment complex, works her way through to the top, cleaning, vacuuming, all the while humming a cheerful hymn. The Owner likes her work, she gets a salary but the owner also allows her the use of a small apartment at the top of the building with a little terrace where she breeds pigeons.

Actually, her vigil and her tremendous fear begin at a quarter to five when she knows that he at his garage would be packing his lunch box, his serviette in a bag he always carries. She knows he will then leave the garage where he works; actually he should reach home, it is but a short distance …

It is six…

It is seven…

He should have been home, reading a magazine, feeding the pigeons, maybe just relaxing on the sofa tired after a long day at the garage, talking to her about his colleagues, narrating stories about Mario who really is very fond of women.

They should be eating a thick broth with fresh vegetables that she has bought at the market, dipping chunks of bread in the delicious hot broth. Or eating a pigeon casserole with a dainty salad but….

Of course there are days when he does return home at six, those are the happiest days of her life. The house is filled with laughter; a delicious aroma of hot broth permeates the house. Yes, sometimes…

It is nine…

If he does not return till ten, then she knows he will not come home till dawn…

Lucia! O Lucia…

Mother Mary help him,

Mother Mary intercede for me,

Oh! Sweet Jesus through the intercession of Mother Mary come to my aid.

Mother Mary help him, let him not fall under the wheels of a car,

let him not knock his head on the corner of the pavement.

Lucia is a cheerful person; most of the times she is filled with a deep serenity and sweetness that helps her go on with life, at other times she is filled with dread.

How she would have loved to have lit her Jesus and Mary candle sung her hymns out loud just like Father Romão does in his baritone voice. Sadly, the moment she starts singing in her sweet, humble voice there are complaints, she is singing too loudly.

She thinks, the apartment complex surrounded by traffic, how would one little hymn matter so much? But look at it from the tenant’s point of view she thinks,

There is the pilot, who flies at all odd hours,

There is the surgeon, who operates sometimes through the night,

There is the old man who needs his rest, the colicky baby; yes they all need their sleep. 

And who is she, but a lowly caretaker.

Oh yes, she does sing her hymns in a quiet composed manner, not the full throated voice that she would have loved to, much advocated by Father Romão.

But one day her calm and sweetness changed to bitterness and anger. It all began when the solicitor from the fifth floor approached her on the pretext of a lost receipt and said;

‘Dona Lucia, how are you?’

‘Fine, Senhor Doutor, how may I help you Sir?’

 ‘Oh it’s nothing, just a receipt I have misplaced; I need it for audit purposes’

And while she is looking for it, in the tiny office at the bottom of the apartment complex, he just blurts it out.

‘Dona Lucia, if ever you want a divorce I will do whatever I can for you’. ‘After all, it is just a matter of paperwork.’

Before she can even recover her composure, the solicitor continues without any hesitation.

‘Do let me know Dona Lucia, when you need any certificates for your divorce or any

witnesses to testify on your behalf, believe me there are two witnesses on each floor willing to testify in your favour.’

 But what really got her incensed was the Social Worker on the second floor.

‘Hello Dona Lucia, how are you? Ummm I know you have a terrible time at home.’

Before she could even take a deep breath, the Social worker continued.

‘O Lucia, these are modern days, women Do Not have to be subjugated, we women

have Rights you know, there is something called Individual Rights of a Woman.’ ‘Think about it’

It was then that it struck her; the realization came as a shock. They all had got together and discussed her!

How could they have done that?

How had they dared do that? 

Did they not realise that she was an individual in her own right?

How could they tear her self-respect in shreds just because she was a poor caretaker?

Just because they were financially well-off?

And what about her alliance before God? Was she not a part of an alliance made on

 Earth but blessed in Heaven?

What fate awaited her if she got divorced, what respect did she have in Society?

How would she go to church alone on Sundays? 

Who would push those heavy cupboards when the need arose?

Who would blast those random shots in the air when there were sounds and threats

from burglars trying to rob cars?’

 There was so much she could not do on her own. Say what you may, her husband was after all a quiet man when sober, did he interfere with Them? Had he ever said anything to Them?

Tell me which husband handed over his entire pay packet to his wife, although sadly

after the binges there was not much left , but Men will be Men, whatever was there she had it safely hidden.

There were so many husbands who did not allow their wives the liberty of going to

Church practically every day, but did he ever stop her? Did he even care if she spoke to Father Romão constantly about the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Blessed Sweet Jesus? No he did not. He did not bother her.

So how dare they plan for her, collude, talk about her small problems, which wife did not have problems tell me?’ ‘Most of all how dare They, what audacity to plan and decide a life full of loneliness for her.

They knew nothing about her, nothing at all…. and yet they had decided for her, had it all figured out for her without even asking her. She was so consumed with rage. She could spit on their faces; imagine trying to get her to divorce her husband, trying to give her a life of endless loneliness. …..

And then a strange calm descended upon her, the Blessed Virgin Mary was helping her to be strong. The Blessed Virgin Mary would cover her with Her own mantle. The Blessed Virgin Mary would intercede with the Blessed Sweet Jesus on her behalf.

A strange peaceful smile shone on her face. No more hiding behind the pigeon’s coop, no more would those tenants hear the deafening yells

Lucia! O Lucia

because as soon as he opens the door he would see her, she would be sitting there waiting for him…….

                And that is what happens, the metallic elevator door opens, then rapidly shuts with a huge bang, he curses heavily, he never manages to get in before the door closes, he gets in at last, and closes it with a metallic clang, heavy footsteps on the landing, fumbles at the lock, key falls at his feet as it always does.

As she expects, he is stupefied, blearily he blinks at her, even through the alcoholic haze he just stares at her, he just cannot believe himself …

She runs to him, gently pulls him to the bedroom, he follows her meekly, hypnotised by her presence, she removes his grease stained clothes gently, as if undressing a baby.

She smiles, no ear splitting, deafening bellows,

Lucia! O Lucia.

Feverishly, with glazed eyes he stoops down to pick up his brown coat. He searches his coat pockets hurriedly. Triumphantly he removes his lighter from his front pocket. His eyes glaze over as he glances at the lighter. He licks his lips in anticipation. He smiles. This is something he has looked forward to for such a long time, and then he whirs and lights it….

He breathes in sharply when he sees the flame, inhales the sharp pungent odour, savours it...

Then he reaches across to her...

She decides, even if he brings the flame close to me I will gently move away...

No, he reaches over and picks up the Jesus Mary candle. Her precious candle, given to her by Father Romão. Lights it. Savours the sight, licking his lips gently.

Then he grabs her nylon nightdress and gently touches it to the blazing Jesus Mary candle.

The nylon burns for a moment, then it dies down...

She rubs herself against the wall, the fire dies, dies a little more...

And then flares up suddenly, bright orange like the dying Sun...

She rolls on the living room carpet...

She runs down the service staircase, fire engulfing her in a bright orange...

At the fifth floor the flames crackle loudly as she falls in front of the solicitor’s apartment...

Salve Regina mãe de misericordia, vida doçura,esperança nossa,  

Mother Mary be the mantle that covers her in the purple haze of the dawn.

Open your wings sweet Mary, oh Advocate of Justice

Fly, take the gentle caretaker with You oh sweet Blessed Virgin Mary

Take her to the waiting stretcher, Sweet Jesus; raise Your eyes to the tenants, silently weeping for this precious life, lilac shadows at their windows on her last beautiful dawn.

Carry her Oh Sweet Jesus and Blessed Virgin Mary from this Valley of Tears.

Take her gently silently, with tender care Oh Sweet Jesus, Oh Blessed Virgin Mary with no screech of the siren, with no sounds, with no nylon nightdress, with no hair, with no skin

And let her live with You, Oh Sweet Jesus, Oh Blessed Virgin Mary, in Heaven forever and ever Amen.

Todos os Nomes…………José Saramago

Everywhere in the world we see lower division clerks attached to some Public Office struggling to make ends meet, eking out a living which means living a frugal life, which is what Senhor Jose, a fifty year old bachelor does. He has the job of a lower division clerk at the Central Registry of Births and Deaths; his is the lowermost rung in the carefully, structured hierarchy, with the Conservador at the peak of the triangle. The meagre salary forces him to lead a parsimonious existence with hardly any luxuries. But Senhor Jose, like all people having limited resources has a hobby that makes his lonely evenings not only bearable but pleasurable. Senhor Jose, collects famous people, he very assiduously collects cuttings of the lives of actors, actresses, even bishops. As Senhor Jose lives in a world of hierarchy, he has tiers and rungs for his personages, actors with their very colourful lives occupying the topmost rungs. Here he was updating his collection one fine day, when he gets this tremendous idea. 'Why not add all those details which are so often hidden from the press and the general public, but which are so easy for me to get’.  All it took was some midnight excursions to the bowels of the Registry deep in the night. By some good fortune Senhor Jose lived in a tiny house attached like a limpet to the massive Registry and best of all he has the connecting key to the Registry. The sense of adventure, after his frugal meal he sets off on these midnight excursions, a twist of the key and there he is inside that colossal edifice, climbing that tall ladder (he is afraid of heights) in search of documents to embellish his collection, oh the fright, cobwebs brushing  and stickily clinging to his face. Senhor Jose lives for his midnight adventures. For once in his 26 years of impeccable service, Senhor Jose is distracted and shoddy in appearance, gets pulled up for inferior performance but is he bothered? No way, things are interesting, moving on well, the nuggets he gleans enrich his collection beyond belief.

Until by chance he picks up the file of the Unknown Woman. Who is this Woman? Is it destiny that her file just gets tagged on to the file of a famous personality and that Senhor Jose just picks up her file? Senhor Jose is filled with a deep sense of adventure, a quest to find the life of the Unknown Woman. His commitment leads him to do things he had never done before, which is what adventure is all about, he forges credentials, visits the Unknown Woman’s apartment where he meets the Lady on the Ground Floor to the Right. Now the Lady on the Ground Floor to the Right tells him that she is the Godmother of the Unknown Woman and in her youth was involved in an affair with the Unknown Woman's father, sadly she no longer keeps in touch with the Unknown Woman, not surprising is it? On with the quest, he now visits the Unknown Woman's school, breaks a window to enter, robs her photographs and her file. Senhor Jose is now completely involved in his character of an adventurer. He relishes the idea of a night in spent in the School, robs food and sleeps on the sofa. And then when at work, he stumbles upon the Unknown Woman's Death Certificate. What should he do? Should he give up? Not at all, he decides to go in search of her grave, sadly it turns out that the Unknown Woman has committed suicide. Why? Could it be that the Unknown Woman has committed suicide because Senhor Jose was prying in her life so very much and she just could take it no longer? Senhor Jose is not very concerned with the cause of her death by now his only concern is the quest.

The quest for the Unknown Woman, uncovers facets of Senhor Jose’s life that he himself never knew existed. He does things that he has never done before; it makes him wonder at himself. He meets people who go on to become his friends. He gets out of his staid life of 26 years and rediscovers another Senhor Jose hidden deep within himself.  Now he has a life, forgotten is his collection of famous people.

He has his life full of adventure, why be a voyeur of others lives.

Did you think that all that Nuns did was pray?

Did you think that all that Nuns did was pray?

The Abbess D. Isabel Nascimento was concerned.

As the Abbess of the prestigious Real Mosteiro de Santa Clara de Vila do Conde she had much to do, much to worry about.  

Looking over the broad expanse of the kitchen gardens which were magnificent, she cast her mind back to when she had joined the Convent at seventeen.

She smiled at the memory, how sad she had been, she had never wanted to join the Cloister. Who would have wanted to relinquish freedom for these walls?

Fate she decided had not dealt her a good hand; she was plain, very intelligent but plain, as her shrewd Father put it to her,

 ‘Isabel you are intelligent but men like to marry meek and beautiful girls’.

So Convent it was for her Isabel, her Father had paid a large dowry and as he put it with a wry laugh,

‘Even to marry Jesus you need a Dowry. One would have thought that after all His preaching; Jesus would not mind a poor bride!’

Of course she had never wanted to be a Bride of Christ; she had wanted a man of flesh, blood coursing through his veins, a man who would keep her warm during those long winter nights.

But she was a woman of principles; she would not neglect her duties, she would make her life a success. And she had done just that, through sheer determination and astuteness she was now the Abbess of the Real Mosteiro de Santa Clara.

She sometimes she lacked the patience needed to console young girls who joined the Convent sometimes forced by their parents, sometimes a jilted young girl.  

Now that young girl Teresa pampered and spoiled by her doting old father. The Abbess knew Teresa had lost her mother and was very lonely and sad, now she imagined herself in love with that lout Simão.

The Abbess loathed Teresa when she wept, when she yearned for ‘her’ Simão.

However, her astute mind never forgot that Teresa was rich, very rich indeed, the only pampered daughter of an old father. It was for this reason alone that the Abbess tolerated her weeping.

Look at that other girl, thought the Abbess, weeding the garden. The Abbess admired this girl; she had pluck, Joanna the daughter of the King of Portugal. The Abbess could never figure out Joanna. She never displayed her inner turmoil.

Was she here of her own free will as the King had explained to the Abbess?

Or was it that Joana like the Abbess herself, had failed to find a husband?

Whatever the reason, Joanna never let her feelings show; she was calm, very hard working and had wonderful sense of humor too.

But the Abbess was not thinking of the girls, their virtues or their failings. She was worried about the terrible waste in the kitchen.

The Abbess loved good food, loved celebrating all feasts, but wasting anything was not tolerated. The other Nuns called her the ‘Miser’, ‘the Plebeian’.   

The Aristocratic Nuns were aware that the Abbess was a Plebeian; that she came from the Trader Class, that she had brought a fabulous dowry.  But, they also knew her to be a very astute business person, just like her Trader Papa. 

 ‘Is she not the person who takes our dowries and lends it at high rates of interest?’ the Aristocrats mumbled

‘And that allows us to have a good life,’ retorted the other Nuns.  

Everyone knew that the convent produced hundreds of eggs; hundreds of egg whites were sold to clarify wines, egg whites were also used for preparing the hosts used in the Holy Mass, besides the nun’s habits were starched with egg whites. Oh yes, egg whites were an extremely lucrative business for the Abbey.

But what worried the Abbess dreadfully, were the hundreds of egg yolks going waste. The pigs were fed these egg yolks, but they ate a lot of kitchen scraps and did not need such rich food.

 ‘How do I solve this terrible waste?’ ‘Oh how do I tackle this immense problem worried the Abbess... ‘

The Abbess was a woman of action.

‘A meeting…’ ‘Ideas, fresh ideas not musty well worn out practices’.

‘What can be done with these hundreds of yolks?’

‘Sister Ursula, do not… please do not tell me we are feeding the pigs with them.’

The discussion went back and forth.

Suddenly, when everyone least expected it, Teresa said in a quavering voice.

‘Why don’t we cook these yolks with sugar?’

The Abbess was thunderstruck, here was Teresa actually thinking of something else besides that oaf Simão.

‘Tell us more, Teresa, tell us more’ she urged.

It turned out that the one thing Teresa actually liked was cooking.

It was then decided to make a ‘Doçe-de-ovos’, a simple dessert, all you did was cook the yolks in sugar. The nuns were not ignorant about sweets and desserts, but they had always used honey as a sweetener. Since the XV Century however, sugar was abundant in Portugal, its uses versatile. Convents were rich and could afford large quantities of sugar.

What excitement pervaded the Abbey, the kitchen smelled delicious, what discussions, so much laughter.  But nothing was as simple as they had thought; sugar although adaptable was tricky, it had its drawbacks. It charred and blackened at the slightest provocation.

A long time later, three basic recipes were formulated, the ‘core’ of the ‘doçaria conventual .’ Ovos-moles, fios de ovos and capas de ovos.

For a more refined and sophisticated taste large quantities of almonds were added, these were the ‘Queijinhos de amêndoa’ moulded into any shape you desired.

With this as a base or the ‘core’, new recipes were devised with great success. These new culinary ideas were a breath of fresh air that blew through all the Convents and Abbeys in Portugal.

In Goa our very Bebimca, the addition of coconut juice to the ‘core’ produced an entirely new flavour.

O Testamento do Senhor Napumoceno. Director Germano Almeida

Senhor Napumoceno da Silva Araújo’s funeral was conducted with great solemnity as befitted a man of his bearing and demeanour. Senhor Napumoceno was after all a leading business figure in Mindelo, the archipelago of Cabo Verde. The Chief mourner, his nephew Carlos conducted himself with dignity and poise; he felt that he was Senhor Napumoceno’s ‘Sole heir’. Sadly, Senhor Napumoceno had never found time in his extremely busy and convoluted world of business and women for a mundane act such as marriage, he always pushed it out of his mind. He was dapper, and of course very, very rich, women he knew would come flocking and they did.

Carlos took his role of the ‘Sole heir’ very seriously and on the day of the funeral nobody could have faulted his grief. One of the stipulations in a letter to him was that instead of a brass band playing, as was customary at every funeral in Cabo Verde, Beethoven’s Marcha Funebre should be played. Now that was a terribly difficult undertaking for Carlos, nobody even knew what Beethoven’s Marcha Funebre was, but Carlos with his customary tenacity did manage to get a recording of the Marcha Funebre. Carlos was determined that his uncle, Senhor Napumoceno da Silva Araújo, should lack for nothing on his last earthly voyage.

But the show must go on, the intricacies of business wait for no man, so on the very next day a very suave Carlos went to his Uncle’s Office. Carlos greeted the polite ‘Bom Dia Senhor Carlos’, at his Uncle’s Office with gravity, but hey did you notice the spring in his step? The air of nonchalance, the little jaunt of the hips. Carlos enters the sanctum sanctorum, Senhor Napumoceno da Silva Araújo’s Office, caution to the winds, decorum forgotten; Carlos full of glee, the old man is dead! Dead and I am his ‘Sole heir’. How would his own portrait look instead of that of the old fossil?

But wait a minute, Carlos; there is this tedious business, the reading of the Testament. The formal reading began in the evening and there seemed no end to it, it seemed that Senhor Napumoceno da Silva Araújo did not want his heirs to inherit without knowing the complete details of his entire life, starting from his extremely humble beginnings, meandering through his rise in business, with digressions into his many liaisons with women. Poor Carlos had suggested that he could read the Testament in the peace and quiet of his house. That is unethical said the Notary, you have to read it in the presence of the witnesses and everyone has to sign. So they went on reading, just  reading, the Notary confessed his throat dry, the witnesses took over and it went on……every little detail of his long life, his arrival at Mindelo as a small barefooted boy, hunger in his eyes, his amazing luck when instead of buying one thousand umbrellas he buys ten thousand. Was it God who gave him a little push, when it started raining in torrents in Mindelo which normally is dry as a bone?

And it went on…..But wait a minute, just when it seemed to be only a dreary narration of events, Senhor Napumoceno springs a surprise that kills any hopes that Carlos had to be named as his Sole heir. Senhor Napumoceno had an illegitimate daughter, Maria de Graça, daughter of his housekeeper Dona Chica, and she and not Carlos inherits all his wealth.

What went wrong, how did the relationship with Carlos sour? Was it because Senhor Napumoceno saw himself in Carlos’ eyes, the same hunger? Senhor Napumoceno never trusted Carlos, for they were so alike.

Did Senhor Napumoceno  have liaisons with other women, Oh yes, plenty, there was the prostitute, so good at her art, Senhor Napumoceno just could not let her go, sadly he contracts syphilis from her, but what happy times.

But the love of his life was Adelia, the beautiful Adelia who strangely disappears.

In addition to his vast heritage, Senhor Napumoceno bequeaths his daughter, Maria de Graça, a collection of audio tapes; here he describes his life in minute detail never omitting a single event. Maria de Graça tries to piece her father’s life with these tapes, but like any person’s life, her narrative has lacunae that she is unable to fill.

On the other hand, her quest and her desire to learn more about her father, brings her closer to Carlos her cousin and Dona Eduarda the new housekeeper.

Germano Almeida, the author of this wonderful book, wants to show his audience, those parallel worlds that exist in our society and life. This he does admirably with wit and sarcasm.

His desperate battle as a small boy with no shoes when he comes to São Vicente to get rich but forgets that his nephew Carlos too has the same desire. Forgets how Carlos works so very hard to make the business a huge success and very ungratefully disinherits him.

Like so very many rich people, Senhor Napumoceno loved to give but the recipient should never waver from eternal gratitude. When he died Senhor Napumoceno, was a much respected businessman, a man of integrity, a serious man with no vices. When the Testament is read, he is revealed a much different person. He is revealed a human being, with all his myriad faults but also his many strengths. Aren’t we all the same?

This wonderful book was adapted into a film by Director Francisco Manso.

The cast

Nelson Xavier (Napumoceno)
Maria Ceiça (Graça)
Chico Díaz (Carlos)
Zezé Motta (Eduarda)
Vya Negromonte (Mari Chica)
Milton Gonçalves (The Mayor)
Francisco de Assis (Fonseca)
Karla Leal (Adélia)
Camacho Costa (Paiva)
Elisa Lucinda (Dona Jóia)
José Eduardo (Dr. Scusa)
Horácio Santos (Baptista)
Alexandre de Sousa (Benoliel)
Manuel Estevão (Manuel)
Silvestre Évora (Notário)
Cesária Évora (Arminda)