better than two in the bush. He apologised to Oscar, insisting that though he intended no criticism, but these were hard times and they should give thanks to God that at least they had work enough and money enough to put bread on the table. Oscar turned to glare at him and José immediately sensed what was coming next.
‘Gentlemen, let’s just forget what happened. Hey, Oscar, you know today is your goddaughter Gertrudis’s birthday? Don’t tell me you forgot.’
‘What do you mean, we should give thanks to God, Abel?’ said Oscar. ‘You’re talking as though God provides for us. Get it through your thick skull: we’re slaves, each and every one of us, and we’ll die slaves if we go on thinking like sheep. It doesn’t matter that people say slavery has been abolished, it doesn’t matter how much times have changed, the Negro is still a Negro, and he’ll live his whole life in mud and filth.’
At these words, silence closed in. All that could be heard was the creak of the cartwheels across the flatland. José went on talking about Gertrudis, about how much she’d grown, how she talked like a parrot, how she scampered around. Oscar interrupted him.
‘I’m not going back. So I want my reales .’
‘What reales ?’ asked the others.
‘The two pesos I put in to buy this mare and cart.’
José said that if he wanted his two pesos he would have to wait until the end of the month when they were paid, because none of them had a centavo between them. Then he went back to prattling on about Gertrudis until Jabao tapped him on the shoulder to let him know that Oscar had jumped off the cart and was hurrying towards the overgrown hill. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll soon calm down,’ said José and spurred the cart on towards Pata de Puerco.
At three o’clock in the morning, José was woken by a hammering on his door. Half-asleep, he opened it to find Santacruz, Aquelarre and Jabao standing there with horrified looks on their faces. ‘You have to see this, José.’
The four men ran to the place where the cart had been tethered. The mare lay sprawled on the ground, her tongue sticking out. One of her hind legs had been hacked off with a machete. Having examined the body of the animal, the four men concluded that this carnage was motivated by old bitterness, the grudge of an unhappy man, it was an act of vengeance. José spat on the ground and said, ‘This is something I’ll never forgive him for.’
He patted each man on the back, telling them to say nothing of what had happened but to leave the matter in his hands. Santacruz, Aquelarre and Jabao went back to their homes. At dawn José was outside Oscar’s house and was about to knock when his friend opened the door.
‘Hey, José, I was just heading out,’ said Oscar.
‘Where? To hack the other leg off the mare?’
Oscar ignored this comment. He told his friend that when he arrived home the night before, he had told Malena he intended to give up working in the cane fields and buy a cow. Malena had been inconsolable, had thrown herself on the ground and wept. José knew that Oscar could not bear to see his wife cry. So he told her he would go back to work on the sugar plantation and she calmed down. Then, this morning, just as he was about to meet them at the cart, he had found Malena unconscious on the floor. He had not told José that recently Malena had been fainting often. He threw water on her face, but she did not wake. Then he had gone to fetch Ester, who was inside examining her even now. ‘That’s why I’m late this morning,’ said the Kortico.
José stared at his friend suspiciously.
‘Why the hell did you do it, Oscar? I told you if you wanted your money all you had to do was wait until the end of the month. Or was this for the animal sacrifice to revoke Olofi’s spell?’
Oscar clearly had no idea what his friend was talking about.
‘I’m talking about the mare, you bastard. Don’t play me for a fool, just tell me the