As usual I was walking my dog around the block. As usual I met people who walk their dogs around the block. I leave my house, turn right, meet the accountant that works in a tiny office. Walk by the auto repair shop, next to the little blue house where a friendly couple practices macumba and get to the corner of Múcio Texeira. Meeting the same people every day makes me feel comfortable.
Far away from home, I’ve built a life, where people remember me. They know, when I’m late. They know, when my dog is sick and always have a smile to share. They tell me things that happen in our street, that is only 400 m long and where everything seems to be connected. The garage owner is my neighbour’s brother, who is the son-in-law of the corner shop owner, who is related to the accountant and so on. Amazing.
I’ve heard the new story about the empty house, vis-a-vis of my building. The garage owner and my neighboour had a sister, who lived by herself in a little house with a huge garden. She suffered from psychological problems and used to talk and scream on the street. She had never done anything more than talking and shouting things. Since I live there, the house is empty. Now, the story I was told recently: A couple of years ago some junkies entered her house and hit her head hard with a big metal stick. A robbery. She was found dead the next morning. Since then, the house is empty and only wild cats manage to enter it.
Well, walking the dog, I turn right again and there is a little playground, usually crowded with kids, parents, grandmothers, nannies and people walking their dogs around the block. On that day I was early. I saw two little, black-haired boys trying to get on the swing. Apparently brothers. They looked exactly the same, except that one was slightly taller than the other. I caught myself smiling, remembering my cute students I had taught English during the day. Watching children do things is awesome. They get so excited about everything! After a couple of steps through the playground I saw her. Long, straight black hair, sitting on a bench. Living in Brazil you quickly learn to recognise who is indigineous. They’re short. Very short. Their hair is black. Very black. And they’re lost. They walk around the city, with their children, sit on corners and try to sell little wooden statues, whose meaning they don’t remember. They don’t fit in a crowded, busy city center, full of shops selling mobile phones. They sit there, lost in time and space, looking around as if they were trying to find something. I know what they’re looking for. They know they don’t fit, but don’t know what to do about it. They sell jewelry, whose shape they’ve learned but don’t know why. They use seeds, they don’t know why. They call their kids João Pedro, and don’t know why.
There she was, sitting on a bench, under a tree watching her two little boys on a swing. Her belly. Huge. I was afraid her baby would pop out any moment. The two little boys saw my dog and got excited. They came close and with a very kind smile asked, or better, tried to ask if they could touch the dog. The oldest boy was not even 2 years old. Cute little boys and my dog playing together. They were neat and looked happy. I sat next to her and her belly. We started chatting. She told me, she was having her baby soon. She worked as a cleaner and her name was Jessica. Jessica? You’re friendly, she says to me. You’re a good person. She lived far away and came to this neighbourhood after food. As she was about to have a child, she couldn’t work as a cleaner, and she didn’t have enough food for her kids. She said, the pregnancy was an accident. She couldn’t afford this child and would give it for adoption. In a weird way I was glad. There are so many that have babies and can’t afford them. Everyone ends up suffering.
She didn’t ask for anything. She told me about her boys, we looked at them playing. I stood up, and told her to wait. I went to the corner shop and bought milk, flour, rice, beans, lentils, sugar, salt, oil and some fruits. I took it back to her in two big plastic bags. She was grateful. Her sad smile thanked me.
She looked at me.
Do you have kids?
No.
You’re generous. I want the best for my kids. I care about them. I shouldn’t be pregnant. Would you take my baby?
It’s healthy. You would be so good to him. It’s another boy.
We looked at her two boys playing with my dog.
She looked at me.
Will you take him?
Her sad smile showed she knew my answer.
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