6
AN OLD FRIEND
Two weeks passed quickly, and Severa had remained faithful to her promise to instruct me in the affairs of magic. Each day, at six o'clock in the afternoon, no matter what, we would gather in the small room, embedded in the recesses of the courtyard with the complicity of the greenish orange trees and entered in the vast world of amulets, witches and potions. These few hours that Severa dedicated to magic produced an alteration in the rules of her Republic: neither Misfortune nor the Victors were allowed approaching the area while we were in magic practices. Initially I thought that the arbitrary rule was put up to avoid interruptions in the learning process, but Severa told me later the real reason: we would be driving supernatural forces that could endanger the life of the other residents of the house, making it necessary to put distance to prevent unwanted transformations of some family members. None wanted to see Misfortune turned into a frog or any of the boys become a goat or a ruminant. Such a transformation would be an unacceptable occurrence, as well as very humiliating for the family member in question.
One afternoon I was in my room getting ready for my usual lesson when Severa appeared at my door announcing me a visit. Nevertheless, and despite my insistence, she refused to inform me the identity of the visitor. With great caution I headed toward the room, intrigued and expectant about who I would find there. It would be my secret admirer coming to profess his devotion to me in person and loudly? Or was he tired of the subtle prose and poems and now came with the concise help of his words and presence? Oh, love! Irresistible Cupid! What new craziness are you preparing for me? Was it not enough that you planted the seeds of a fateful love in my heart for a magician who did not even notice my presence? Cupid! Cupid! As a farmer of hearts, so far, your task has been deficient, imperfect and harmful! Why didn’t you sow also the seed at his heart? Thus, love would have been mutual and I would be suffering neither the misfortune of disaffection nor the arrows of love. No! Then, I would be happy with the greatest bliss than any heart could ever know, with the gates of heaven open wide leaving me a string of blessings. How different is life when it is accompanied by the perfume of love! How different my life would be if you had had your arrows rightly pointed!
Upon reaching the room I had already finished my musings on love and great was my surprise when sitting on one of the sofa contemplating me was my bizarre Persian friend, Batam-Al-Bur, wearing his unmistakable gigantic olive-colored pants, his jacket attached with precious stones and his fuchsia turban swirled around his head. He had rings with different precious stones on each of his fingers and a solid silver belt tightened with relish the circumference of his waist. He ran to meet me with open arms, as in a crucifixion and squeezed me through all the profusion of oriental greetings. Long time we were united exchanging warm and friendly hugs and sweets phrases as salutation.
-Batam-Al-Bur! What a pleasant surprise! -And gently pinching his forearm, I went with a claim- Where have you been? It had been six months without hearing from you. That is not a way to treat friends… Batam-Al-Bur.
-The same at your service -said with a reverence- I regret the delay, dear friend. I have been busy travelling the world, after all I was locked up for fifty years in that horrible bottle where you freed me. You know how aggravated my ailments become with closure. But freedom has filled my life. My allergies have diminished, migraine hardly accompanies me and the respiratory discomfort has also largely withdrawn during this time. However, despite everything, my dear friend, I have always kept abreast of the events in your life and your sisters through Americus and Leonardo.
I looked at him with surprise and puzzlement at first, then with anger.
-You meant that you have been in communication with them and not me? -Annoying I claimed- you are an ungrateful knave! Couldn’t you call me; send a fax or an email? What a tremendous friend you have been!
The Genie put distance between us conveniently taking refuge behind the couch where minutes earlier had been sitting.
-Do not get angry! My absence was not deliberate, I swear! I swear! It is only that the world is such a wonderful place that I got lost in its succulent landscapes not realizing of the passage of time! With regard to Americus and Leonardo, fate wanted that they regularly crossed my paths on my travels through these fascinating places -then, scanning my face to look for signs of the decline of my anger, continued- I assure you that I always asked for you and was much happy when I was told that you have been accepted as an apprentice witch. I know that everything will turn out ok for you; I always thought you had a witch face; well... that is not what I meant... What I am trying to say, without much success, is that you have attitudes and vocation of sorceress. Oh, God! I'm already saying nonsense. I begin to feel that the ulcer is already spilling and clouding my speech. Oh, no! And I am already having a headache too... Heavens Saints! I choke!
I went to the Genie fanning some air in his face with the palm of my hand in an attempt to alleviate his sufferings. The effort yielded fruits because a few minutes later his complexion seemed to regain the bronze tone of his skin. For my part, I left aside my criticisms and claims, taking into account that the Genie had shown convincingly that he was a beloved and faithful friend. In addition, his presence could not be timelier.
Severa classes had been, until now, purely theoretical but already told me that we would start the practice sessions by the end of the week; for which had extended me a list of materials that I should get to begin with these lessons. The list had elements that I had no idea of how to get because they were quirky, obsolete and incomprehensible. Thus, the presence of my dear friend was like a ring to my finger.
-Will you stay a long time? There is one thing that I need your help. In addition, there is so much of what we need to talk. Please find a day so I can update you on the vicissitudes that I've had to go through -I said in a plaintive tone by appealing to his commiseration.
My words had the desired effect on the Genie who excited informed me that he would spend a good time in Eisenbaum as in his last trip to Egypt he was invited by Americus to visit the natural beauties of the realm. And bearing in mind that he was a Genie without master, work or occupation and without girlfriend or wife that could muddy his dizzying life of laziness he had devoted for the last six months; told me with a reverence that he was under my command for whatever I needed. He was staying at The Fortaleza, in a luxurious room, where the sound of the sea waves visited his bed full of fluffy cushions giving him the relax and well deserved rest he deserved on the warm evenings escorted by the luminous moon After this dialogue I updated him of all the events in my life, with full details of the occurrences of those months in which he had been absent; using the same phrases and sentences I used days earlier in my confession to Severa under the purview of the legendary orange and jasmine tea, in that corner of the kitchen which with such stoic silence it still kept my secrets. After his reprimand sentences, very similar to the ones promulgated by Severa, and many "What folly!" and "What were you thinking of?", he seemed to condole of my grief and my sufferings and let me quiet.
Immediately, and to put an end to the wave of reprimands, I took my material list and handled it to him, so he could read it. He said thus:
"Witchcraft Practice No. 1"
Materials:
-Three hairs from the tail of a grey Siamese cat.
-Happy frog legs
-Five grams of land of a cemetery gathered in full moon
-A multicolored bird feather"
Batam-Al-Bur was very versatile with his expressions. From the profusion of a very audible laugh could pass, with ease and without remorse, to a frown, or from a catatonic laughter to tears; produced in infinitesimal fractions of a second. All in Batam-Al-Bur was transparent. If for some strange reason it was necessary the enactment of a lie or the omission of a fact to third parties, although his body was in favor of the lie and the omission, his treacherous eyes betrayed him. Yes! His oblique and greenish eyes, his treacherous eyes, always shouted from the rooftops what his body intended to hide. Thus it was for that strange peculiarity of his pupils that my Persian friend lived tucked into problems due to excess of truth, or what is the same, due to lack of lying.
As soon as Batam finished reading my list, immediately I realized that he didn't want to participate in the collection of materials. Yes! His eyes told me, but mine, which were as foolish and stubborn as his, said they would not accept a "no" for an answer, and by dint of arguments, looks and lamentations I came out victorious from this singular battle of eyes.
- And how do you intend to put these elements together? -He asked still reluctant.
-I have a plan. Let's start with the easiest: a multicolored bird feather. Severa has a parrot here in the house. She is caged but whenever I approach, she moves away towards the other side of the cage where I cannot reach her. If we are two, one can entertain her while the other rips the feather.
The Genie remained silent for a few moments, in thoughtful attitude, then added:
-I entertain her and you take away the feather -was quick to say the Genie- I do not want to have direct contact with those stinking animals that are carriers of diseases.
-Okay -I said resignedly- Her name is Consuelo. You have to give her some rice grains to call her attention while I do my work.
Outlined the plan, we would continue the action. I kept Severa, Misfortune and the Victors out of the plan for fear that they objected my method for sentimental reasons, given that the animal had been in the house for over thirty years.
Carefully and without making any noise we went to the hallway where the prodigious parrot was rocking peacefully in her wire swing. She spotted us and quickly assumed an alert position. Ah! Whatever they say, I have always thought that birds have a sixth sense; sometimes much more acute and timely than that of humans. Consuelo, in a second, seemed to guess our intentions because then raised her flight until the cage furthest place.
-Camila -said the Genie- this animal is all white but, as I read, what you need is a multicolored bird feather.
-Shut up! -I shouted- it is the only bird to which I have access. When you have the feather I would paint it with watercolor.
Batam frowned and I, for my part, did not pay attention to his comment:
-I think that you are crazy! Do you think that Severa won't realize that has a painted feather? -He said standing at the side where the Parrot was and opening a bag of rice grains that I had given him minutes earlier; began to throw them without reaching his target, bashed the banisters and piling up on the floor.
-You must have better aim! You are throwing them to the floor!
Batam looked desolate and making a great effort suppressed the feeling of disgust and anger, then as smooth as he could, slid the fingers between the bars in an attempt to place the rice on the cage floor. Fateful occurrence! Because Consuelo as soon as she saw the thin hand bursting into the confines of her residence, rushed pecking aggressively against his intrusive fingers.
-Ayayay... -cried my friend- Ay, Ay. I had forgotten the hardships that happen anytime I'm next to you.
I replied quickly:
-Silence!
The Genie had withdrawn the hand rubbing the bruised area.
-Come on! Let me see -I took his hand and did a quick inspection- it's nothing, it could be worse!
-Yes! -He said– she could have eaten the full finger. This birdseed is not giving result.
-You're right, we should think about something else.
We sat on the short wall that divided the hallway of the house from the porch while looking for new ideas that allow us to achieve the mission. Consuelo, for her part, returned to her wire swing with what appeared to be a derisive smile and rocked it and rocked back to front and front to back, without removing the view of us.
After a few minutes of intense thoughts, a brilliant idea occurred to me. I asked Batam to lend me his fuchsia turban but refused claiming that it was a fine and exquisite silk which was acquired from Damascus merchants last month. I insisted and assured him that I would not damage it, so he agreed and handed it to me with reluctance. I then approached the cage. Consuelo flew back to the farthest place. With the rapidity of lightning, I opened the little door and threw her the scarf up clouding her vision. This trick allowed me to put my arm up to where she was and drag it to the door where I could start with treachery pulling out one of her right-wing feathers; but much to my regret, the situation became complicated.
The exquisite silk scarf was embedded in the beak and claws of Consuelo and in her eagerness to break away tragically tore the delicate threads, so to the cries of the parrot joined also the cries of Batam; and while more efforts I made to free Consuelo more it snarled under the blows of the parrot and more screaming by Batam for the corpse that was now his scarf.
Obviously with all the fuss, Severa, Misfortune and the Victors reached the place.
- But what is going on here? -Severa asked alarmed approaching to the plump bird and freeing her from the yoke of silk.
With all this public gathered I had no other option but lie once again.
-Seemed that Consuelo was cold and we think to curl her with this scarf that so generously my friend brought me.
Severa looked at both of us; nothing in the geography of her face indicated if she had believed or not my words. Then she said:
-It is a very noble but inappropriate gesture. The birds do not suffer from cold; for that they have plumage which protects them from any change in temperature. I hope that this incident does not become a repeat - and looking at the scarf said:
-It is a pity that a delicate garment has been damaged as well.
And saying this, she withdrew with her family leaving me and Batam alone in the hallway. How bad I felt, then, for my action! I got my feather, but to what cost? I damaged Batam’s scarf, the one he had entrusted me with so much confidence. I had failed him; I had promised that I would not damage it and there it was now, spoiled, marred, a rag! Filled with birdseed and stool!
-Sorry, friend -I said convicted– I would find a way to compensate you for the loss.
-Don't worry -he said- as you said a few moments ago it could have been worse. At least you have your feather.
Batam’s words far from comfort me made me feel worse. Batam, to my eyes, stood loyal, faithful and unconditional. Raised in the arms of friendship he had backed up my story and not even a sigh of protest had shown his displeasure. Nothing had said to Severa that contradicted my saying. In contrast, I was raised, perfidious and ruin. What kind of person was I? Lying shamelessly, bypassing the wishes of my friend to get my petty interests, also lying to Severa who had so generously hosted me at home and impregnated me on a daily basis with her magic knowledge. Ah! How wrong my reputation was standing by this incident! Stained by the deception and carelessness onslaughts. How low I had fallen! Then I thought of my grandfather, Gennaro, and my shame became bigger and thought of my sisters, Beatrice and Mariana and was so big my shame that it began to spread to the outside in the form of tears. Tears of shame and dishonor! And there was Batam, faithful friend, ready to wipe the spring that poured from my eyes and pick up the words of my repentance:
-Batam, I have been doing very bad things lately and I regret it. I want to leave behind this version of me that scares me. I feel that if I continue on this deception and lies path the moment will come when it will be very late and I would not be able to come back. The lie monster has been eaten me and I refuse to continue to serve as its food. It appears when I least expect it and takes over my words and my actions. I want to pledge to you, my faithful friend, that I will not lie any more. Never again! I want my loved ones to be proud of me. I want the truth in my words and my actions. I want to recognize me as the straight and honest person that ever was; but I cannot do it alone. This monster that now dwells in me is very astute and often hides behind the convenience disguise; and sometimes it is very difficult to recognize. I ask you, Batam, when you also see it, let me know, but you do it by screaming. An arduous task awaits me, I know, but just in you I trust. I hereby grant permission to use any means possible and available to make me to my senses. Will you do it?
Batam smiled and added:
-Count on me! It will be interesting to see how I make you enter into reason.
After this incident, the visit passed without major inconveniences. That night Batam dismissed by promising to return the next day to help me find my materials list.
The night swept through all corners of the house and, after dinner, we, inhabitants of the house, said goodbye with a simple 'good night' recited in choir, under the weight of tiredness, along the corridor. Arriving at my room, on the fluffy pillow of white cotton, was the familiar envelope containing the verses of my mysterious lover. I hurried to take it and opened it without delay:
‘I wish the lonely night shelters you under the white hue of the Moon,
And the flaming stars sing for you my love hymn,
Arriving at your feet, graceful and arrogant, the sighs of the sea
And in serene procession showing you the way to my arms,
Because my arms are waiting for you and will always wait in sweet and sour agony
So far until they can join you in a sublime hug
That your dreams surrender before the nectars of my love,
And be fruitful puffed of mirth, clamor and expectations,
Because I wrote these verses to show you the fruits of my devotion.
Sweet dreams, my love"
That night it was impossible for me to sleep. Who are you? I thought. Who was the person who wrote such exquisite verses? I didn't know what to think. Would I find him someday? What if he never appears? Would I remain with the infinite doubt of his identity forever?
That night I dreamed with a sinister forest of protruding Cedars that raised their infamous shadows chasing me while I ran. I fell and turned up, barefoot, to get away from them. The moon covered with stormy clouds appeared at times up the blackish dome of the sky and a sound as menacing owls hurt my ears. A chilly breeze blew fierce and froze my steps making them even heavier and slow, sinking in a thick, foul and nasty sludge. In the distance I saw the whitest unicorns I had ever seen that moved away running from the dark forest but I could not reach them. A rider, whom I could not see the face, was riding with them. And although I was screaming to catch his attention, he did not seem to hear me. Between fear and despair, my heart joined my breathing spasms; and suddenly, like a miracle of infinite grace, I woke up.
True to his promise, Batam appeared at the residence in the very early hours. He declined the invitation to breakfast that made Severa indicating that he had already delighted with delicacies in The Fortaleza. Severa did not like his comment very much since she never lost opportunity to offer her delicacies and accept the praise, and frowning, turned around and returned to the stove where she was handing out her culinary delights which we expected with passion around the table chaired by Mr. Misfortune.
If there was something Severa was proud of was her kitchen: no Eisenbaum apron was cleaner and flawless that the one Severa fitted at her waist every morning at six-thirty, none withier, always starched to give greater clarity and texture, no silverware so shiny, so much so that it looked like a mirror, all in tone, all in harmony with the whole, nor a single utensil scratched, nor a single vessel loading the filth of dirt, all cups dressed with the same floral design, as the coffee and the sugar bowl set, all shining with the frictions glow of the sponge and soap the woman religiously used to wash them, every afternoon from one to two o’clock. There, Severa shone as a sole Queen and Lady, as a theater actress before a large audience, she was devoted in sharing not only her gastronomic talents but the histrionic also. Yes! There, Severa really shone and shone with her own light! Trough the coffee vapors she liked to talk of the virtues of the marinated bread, while at the same time, daubing the virtuous bread with a generous layer of butter seasoned with parsley; then, she passed to comment on the benefits of parsley and with exquisite sharpness exalted its diuretic properties and effectiveness for the slow digestion and intestinal spasms. Ah! With such elegance Severa walked with her teapot pouring the precious amber liquid into our cups which exhaled their wonderful aromas: jasmine, orange, cinnamon or lemon! With such mastery she elaborated the delicious, fragile and fluffy pancakes that succumbing over a sea of maple and honey syrup expected the final destination to our mouths! The milk pouring into our glasses was not pasteurized in any way, no!; It came from a white cow with caramel spots, called Scarlet, which lived on a nearby farm whose owner each morning was given to the task to supplying of the precious liquid to some families concerned about the good health and nutritional habits of their offspring.
After breakfast, Batam and I left the residence, accompanied by the Victors, who indicated they wanted to help me in my task of collecting materials for the wizardry lesson. Mr. Misfortune let us use the wagon to go to the countryside in search of the happy frog legs.
-And how do we know that the frog is happy? -Batam asked very intrigued while clung to his seat that bounced like a bull at a rodeo.
-I don't know -said Victor Rafael- you have to look for one that is laughing -said bursting into laughter which also joined his brothers.
The road was paved, so the cart squeaked and bounced and our bodies were wobbling and crashing against each other. Some villagers raised their gaze to see us, greeted the Victors and resumed their duties. The cart horse did not speak, or he didn't want to do it, but, just in case, I abstained to promulgate any comments that wound hurt his susceptibility. After half an hour of horses, we began to see the extensive greenish landscapes, soft hills waving by the whole variety of green, brown and blue shades. The sun shined hard on the plateau and a smell of damp earth flooded our space.
-Over there! -said Victor Andres pointing out the bluer water lagoon I had ever seen, bordered of shrubs and smaller plants that gave it the appearance as an aquarium. As a native of the area, Victor Andres knew where to find the famous frog race, so confirming his order I said:
-Well done! Go over there!
I felt drunk by the spirit of adventure, as well as those Spanish explorers, subsidized by the Spanish Isabel Queen, that sailed in ships plying the endless seas, around 1700, in search of new territories. My exploration although smaller wouldn't have the mystery tinges that carry all discoveries. Reaching the lake my astonishment broke: hundreds of frogs populated the place. There were in all sizes and colors: large, small, tiny, green, brown, red, skinny, fat. Without a doubt, all species on the planet were represented by one of them in that small space.
-Ok! Tell me which one is happy? -repeated the Genie.
-I guess that all. Look how happy they are still free and jumping from here to there -one of the Victors said.
For a very brief moment I felt some remorse. Get a frog to be used in a spell, removing him, perhaps, from the delight that is to be immersed in the warm waters of a pond and sunbathing under the delicate solar rays. My list only referred to the legs, did not speak of the body at all. However, I doubted that the small animal would live after having been stripped of his legs. Who was I to dispose of his life?
However, the task would not be easy; every time we approached the well, frogs, perhaps foreshadowing the bloody fate that awaited them, jumped as high as an Olympic high-jump athlete and ran to take refuge under the shade of some aquatic plants whose leaves were as big as beach umbrellas. However, thanks to the human cleverness, Victor Rafael managed to procure some beetle larvae, which I knew then constitute an element much appreciated in the amphibian frogs world, something like chocolate is to the human realm; and strategically placed it behind a huge bush, so thick that it reached to hide two Victors, and managed to pounce on the naive that was pulled to the succulent delicacy with the aim of nailing its first tooth.
Do frogs have teeth? Interesting question but I don't know the answer! I do not know it! The case is that I have never ventured or I will venture to investigate on my own if they have teeth or not. I'll leave that task to science people whose research spirit leads them to undertake the most disgusting experiments at the expense of the amphibian world. For my part, neither for science nor for sorcery, my fingers would never touch such cavities which I imagine moist, watery, and resinous. It was also fortunate that the Victors accompanied me on the ride since Batam would have never lashed out against any frog, so the unpleasant task would have been mine.
I had to be very honest on this respect, I do not know if I would have been able to even touch a frog. I really dislike exceedingly wet and gelatinous textures, much more if these textures are attached to animals and a lot more if these animals can jump over me with their bulging eyes, rough skin and protractile mouth. Victor Rafael had the good sense to bring a vessel that served as a container for the little frog.
Back to the village we stopped at a cafeteria to review the list. The place was almost empty, so we ordered a few cookies and refreshments which were served immediately and noshed with passion. The items that remained in my list were five grams of a cemetery land gathered in full moon, since the three hairs of a Siamese cat were provided by Victor Joseph who obtained it from a friend. It would be a feat to convince the Genie to accompany me to the cemetery the next night, which is when the calendar said it would be full moon. The Victors could not come since they had an activity in the morning that would keep them away for three days. So using the plaintive tone that women use when wishing to obtain any concession from masculine gender, I moved my long and lush eyelashes, I showed the most famous of my smiles adorned with the exquisite pearl necklace which were my teeth, and took my time to convince the Genie to accompany me.
-Please, Batam, you have to come with me.
Ah! But the Genie had also tuned his cunning; his long journeys around the world had inoculated him against the perfect art of manipulation and I was not able to convince him so easily.
-No, this time I won’t listen to you. A cemetery in full moon? You are really crazy if you think I will go there! And I would be even crazier if you accompany me. Of course not! No! No! No!
However, I was not discouraged and kept insisting:
-Are you letting me go alone? Where is your chivalry? After all that we spent together. Imagine how you would feel if something bad happens to me. Could you live with such charge of consciousness? Please, do it for the good old days!
But the Genie, entrenched as he was under the blanket of denial, still reused undergoing my desires.
-No and no! There are zombies and ghosts in cemeteries; and I thank, God that I do not have to deal with any of them. There was no way, reasoning, threating or begging that could persuade Batam to accompany me to the cemetery overnight; so I understood I would have to tackle the unpleasant task by myself.
As soon as we ended up snacking, Batam said goodbye and left for The Fortaleza, I followed my way back to the house with the Victors. The night came early and accurate with its natural darkness, shining stars, moon and lanterns. Determined to get the last ingredient to my list, I prepared to go to the cemetery. I crossed the hall, got to the door, opened it and closed it with extreme softness to not wake to Misfortune or Severa.
The street was large and seemed deserted; a succession of small white houses with their red roofs looked like little hats observing on either side. The library highlighted within the whole, with its terracotta columns and a wooden sign exhibiting hours of operation: 8:00 am to 5:00 pm. I looked at the clock, it was almost midnight and the cemetery was located at the West side of the village, so I would have to walk a long way. The cold of the night was squeezing me the bones so I wrapped with my sweater and began the walk.
My steps produced a mild, dry sound crashing against the paved surface; my vigilant eyes looked towards all recondite places where some human, or not human, being could hide. The fear began to play me tricks; there were elusive shadows behind the trees, there were winding eyes following my path, there were strange sounds and unintelligible words whispering behind my back, there were cold and fear; and between fear and cold I did not know which one was bigger.
A cart anchored in front of the cafeteria before my eyes acquired overtones of monster, whose wheels as sharp claws seemed to be waiting for me to destroy my bones and flesh. A curtained window was the silhouette of a witch hat scaring and scratching her warts.
An iron frame was a skeleton placed in the middle of the road, waiting for me to attack me with sharp prickles. Finally, after so many strange and bizarre creatures that paraded through my imagination, I arrived at the gates of the cemetery. The moon had already taken its position in the center of the starry sky and watched my figure, silent and expectant, as saying <and