De Vasconcelos José Mauro - My Sweet Orange Tree

We were strolling down the street hand in hand, in no hurry at all. Totoca was teaching me about life. And that made me really happy, my big brother holding my hand and teaching me things. But teaching me things out in the world. Because at home I learned by discovering things on my own and doing things on my own; Id make mistakes and because I made mistakes I always ended up getting beaten. Until not long before that, no one had ever hit me. But then they heard things and started saying I was the devil, a demon, a sandy-haired sprite. I didnt want to know about it. If I wasnt outside, Id have started to sing. Singing was pretty. Totoca knew how to do something besides sing: he could whistle. But no matter how hard I tried to copy him, nothing came out. He cheered me up by saying it was normal, that I didnt have a whistlers mouth yet. But because I couldnt sing on the outside, I sang on the inside. It was weird at first, but then it felt really nice. And I was remembering a song Mother used to sing when I was really little. Shed be standing at the washtub, with a cloth tied about her head to keep the sun off it. With an apron around her waist, shed spend hours and hours plunging her hands into the water, turning soap into lots of suds. Then shed wring out the clothes and take them to the clothes line, where shed peg them all out and hoist it up high. She did the same thing with all the clothes. She washed clothes from Dr Faulhabers house to help with the household expenses. Mother was tall and thin, but very beautiful. She was brown from the sun and her hair was straight and black. When she didnt tie it up, it hung down to her waist. But the most beautiful thing was when she sang, and Id hang around, learning.

That song had always filled me with a sadness I couldnt understand.

Totoca gave me a tug. I came to my senses.

Whats up, Zez?

Nothing. I was singing.

Singing?

Yeah.

Then I must be going deaf.

Didnt he know you could sing on the inside? I kept quiet. If he didnt know, I wasnt going to teach him.

We had come to the edge of the RioSo Paulo Highway.

On it, there was everything. Trucks, cars, carts and bicycles.

Look, Zez, this is important. First we take a good look one way, and then the other. Now go.

We ran across the highway.

Were you scared?

I was, but I shook my head.

Lets do it again together. Then I want to see if youve learned.

We ran back.

Now you go. No baulking, cause youre a big kid now.

My heart beat faster.

Now. Go.

I raced across, almost without breathing. I waited a bit and he gave me the signal to return.

You did really well for the first time. But you forgot something. You have to look both ways to see if any cars are coming. I wont always be here to give you the signal. Well practise some more on the way home. But lets go now, cause I want to show you something.

He took my hand and off we went again, slowly. I couldnt stop thinking about a conversation Id had.

Totoca.

What?

Can you feel the age of reason?

Whats this nonsense?

Uncle Edmundo said it. He said I was precocious and that soon Id reach the age of reason. But I dont feel any different.

Uncle Edmundo is a fool. Hes always putting things in that head of yours.

He isnt a fool. Hes wise. And when I grow up I want to be wise and a poet and wear a bow tie. One day Im going to have my picture taken in a bow tie.

Why a bow tie?

Because you cant be a poet without a bow tie. When Uncle Edmundo shows me pictures of poets in the magazine, theyre all wearing bow ties.

Zez, you have to stop believing everything he tells you. Uncle Edmundos a bit cuckoo. He lies a bit.

Is he a son of a bitch?

Youve already been slapped across the mouth for using so many swear words! Uncle Edmundo isnt that. I said cuckoo. A bit crazy.

You said he was a liar.

Theyre two completely different things.

No, theyre not. The other day, Father was talking about Labonne with Severino, the one who plays cards with him, and he said, That old son of a bitch is a bloody liar. And no one slapped him across the mouth.

Its OK for grown-ups to say things like that.

Neither of us a spoke for a moment.

Uncle Edmundo isnt What does cuckoo mean again, Totoca?

He pointed his finger at his head and twisted it around.

No, he isnt. Hes really nice. He teaches me things, and he only smacked me once and it wasnt hard.

Totoca started.

He smacked you? When?

When I was really naughty and Glria sent me to Grans house. He wanted to read the newspaper but he couldnt find his glasses. He searched high and low, and he was really mad. He asked Gran where they were but she had no idea. The two of them turned the house upside down. Then I said I knew where they were and if he gave me some money to buy marbles, Id tell him. He went to his waistcoat and took out some money.

Go get them and Ill give it to you.

I went to the clothes hamper and got them. And he said, It was you, you little rascal! He gave me a smack on the backside and put the money away.

Totoca laughed.

You go there to avoid getting smacked at home and you get smacked there. Lets go a bit faster or well never get there.

I was still thinking about Uncle Edmundo.

Totoca, are children retired?

What?

Uncle Edmundo doesnt do anything, and he gets money. He doesnt work, and City Hall pays him every month.

So what?

Well, children dont do anything. They eat, sleep and get money from their parents.

Retired is different, Zez. A retired person has already worked for a long time, their hairs turned white and they walk slowly like Uncle Edmundo. But lets stop thinking about difficult things. If you want to learn things from him, fine. But not with me. Act like the other boys. You can even swear, but stop filling your head with difficult things. Otherwise I wont go out with you again.

I sulked a bit and didnt want to talk any more. I didnt feel like singing either. The little bird that sang inside me had flown away.

We stopped and Totoca pointed at the house.

There it is. Like it?

It was an ordinary house. White with blue windows. All closed up and quiet.

Yeah. But why do we have to move here?

Its good to stay on the move.

We stood gazing through the fence at a mango tree on one side and a tamarind tree on the other.

Youre such a busybody, but you have no idea whats going on at home. Fathers out of a job, isnt he? Its been six months since he had the fight with Mr Scottfield and they kicked him out. Did you know Lals working at the factory now? And Mothers going to work in the city, at the English Mill? Well there you go, silly. Its all to save up to pay the rent on this new house. Fathers a good eight months behind on the other one. Youre too young to have to worry about such sad things. But Im going to have to help out at mass, to pitch in at home.