Tales of Freedom (2 page)

Breathing heavily, Old Man said:

‘That was a job well done.’

‘A satisfactory achievement,’ Old Woman replied.

‘A major victory, considering our ages.’

‘Let us not talk about age.’

‘I’m exhausted.’

‘Do you think we were a bit too hard on him?’

‘Definitely,’ said Old Man, with dignity.

‘That’s wonderful.’

They picked up the chairs, put the table back in its former place, and resumed their seats.

‘Now all we can do is wait,’ Old Woman said.

‘Yes.’

‘And the boredom?’

‘Oh, that. Let’s enjoy that as well.’

‘Ah, yes.’

‘Yes to all that.’

‘Yes to everything.’

‘And to nothing.’

Five

THERE WAS A
brief silence. Then Old Man and Old Woman began to reminisce, to speak as if the other weren’t there. They spoke aloud, to themselves, in that clearing, in the forest, beneath an indeterminate sky. They spoke alternately, as if they were in a dream, or a trance, or a ritual. Old Woman spoke first.

‘I remember all those signs on the trees on our way here …’

Then Old Man spoke:

‘I forget to remember but I certainly recollect the skeletons that strange tribe built their houses with …’

Old Woman, interrupting, said:

‘And I remember that the signs formed an interminable sentence. If you miss out a tree or get to the wrong one first the whole sentence gets jumbled up.’

Old Man continued the thread of his reminiscences:

‘The skeletons were polished and left intact. The bones were decorated. The hollows in the skulls were stuffed with amusing
artefacts
. The tribe thought it had finally arrived and then one night in history the owners of the skeletons turned up and began to remove their bones and skulls. The buildings collapsed, and only the artefacts remained.’

Old Woman, increasingly mesmerised by her reminiscence, spoke with some urgency:

‘I remember that I had to keep rearranging the sentences in my head. At first they seemed like nonsense, a pointless word puzzle. I was fascinated with this elaborate rubbish till I realised that I was in fact reading the story of my life that had been scattered all over the place.’

They were each lost in their separate monologues. They picked up the thread of their reminiscences as if they were sleep-walkers in an obscure theatre of the mind. With increasing intensity, Old Man continued:

‘The strange tribe had built an unhealthy routine around the skeletons. They didn’t realise that the skeletons were alive and subversive. And so their routines became hellish and the people became afflicted with diseases that only a final destruction could cure. I mean, it was funny and sad to see them
living
their daily lives, trying to unwind the intricate confusion of so many threads forever entangled. It was even funnier when …’

And Old Woman, in the voice of a bizarre tropical bird, swooped down into her extended act of memory.

‘I was horrified but I laughed and said to Pinprop “There must be a place out there”. And whenever I could I either tore down the signs or rewrote them. It was ugly seeing intimate details of my life on those trees, things like when I had my first period and all the satisfaction I derived from inflicting revenge on someone who had insulted me in some small way. It was all so banal. I rewrote them, indeed I did. And …’

Plunging deeper into his mood, Old Man said:

‘… a man came along and saw his skeleton embedded in the body of a building. He struggled so hard to get it out that he extricated the skeleton but ended up part of the building himself. Afterwards the building became empty because they thought it was spooked and for several centuries the man was howling away in an empty house with no-one around to be terrified. And …’

Old Woman laughed lightly to herself at her memories.

‘… I thought it was funny myself that I had rewritten the last sign I saw that said “And I was lost”. I simply made it read: “And I took up a room in a hotel and lived there ever after.” I like happy endings, you see.’

Then she turned serious.

‘No-one can blame me for being angry, therefore, when Pinprop came back and told me that we were lost. I asked him how he knew and the fool said: “Well, em, I read it on a tree”.’

Six

AT THAT MOMENT
Pinprop began howling from the woods. He howled like one in a nightmare.

‘And boredom, sir and madam,’ he cried. ‘What shall we do about hunger? What are we to do about violence, I ask you?’

‘Tell the fool to shut up,’ snapped Old Man.

‘Shut up, Pinprop!’ Old Woman barked.

‘But if I shut up, sir, who would hear me?’

‘No-one wants to hear you, Pinprop,’ Old Man said.

‘Then I shall speak to myself.’

‘Then we shall listen,’ replied Old Man.

‘That’s fine by me,’ came the obstinate Pinprop. ‘I am bored. I am tired. I shall sing a song. I am afraid of being bored so I shall make love instead. I shall make love to these chains and I shall do it so much that the chains will float and we will all have to swim.’

‘Empty threats, Pinprop.’

‘Tell him to shut up. I don’t want to be accidentally impregnated by a eunuch.’

‘Surely, you’re too old for that.’

‘I shall outdo the rainstorms, sir,’ Pinprop shouted. ‘Who knows what clouds are anyway?’

‘Shut up, Pinprop.’

‘I was merely expressing a fantasy.’

‘Your fantasy makes us sick,’ said Old Woman.

‘I was merely trying to nauseate you into freeing me from these rusted chains,’ cried Pinprop, beating the chains on the ground.

‘You’d better release him.’

‘And what will be his price for freedom?’ Old Man asked, wearily.

‘Obedience,’ said Old Woman.

Seven

OLD MAN GOT
up reluctantly. He trundled into the woods, and soon returned with Pinprop trailing behind him, limply. Old Man sat in his chair. Pinprop took up his customary position in front of the table. The sky had darkened a little over the clearing.

‘Now we shall have some peace,’ Old Woman said.

‘I was trying to forget something,’ muttered Old Man, ‘but instead I remembered.’

‘I was trying to remember something,’ mumbled Old Woman, ‘but now I’ve forgotten.’

Pinprop, almost in a whisper, said:

‘A bloated NO to all this, and a monstrous NO to all that iron.’

The sky improved. Then Old Man, with dignity, said:

‘Now for some boredom.’

Old Woman, also with dignity:

‘Now for some lies.’

‘And now,’ said Pinprop, ‘that we have arrived at a temporary destination …’

‘A proper yes,’ said Old Man.

‘A resonant yes,’ said Old Woman.

‘… I may as well remember for myself …’ Pinprop continued.

‘The vote is taken,’ Old Man said.

‘And silence wins,’ Old Woman said.

‘… that there are many sad people …’ Pinprop went on.

‘A deafening victory for silence,’ said Old Woman.

‘A violent victory for silence,’ said Old Man.

‘… who would never arrive …’ said Pinprop.

‘Because silence stands for lies,’ Old Woman said.

‘And lies stand for victory,’ Old Man said.

‘… because there is nowhere to arrive at …’ continued Pinprop.

‘And victory stands for banality.’

‘And banality represents happiness.’

‘… and travelling is the only place there is …’ said Pinprop.

‘Look well, therefore, at the trap,’ intoned Old Man.

‘And regard carefully the mouse,’ cried Old Woman.

‘… and arriving is the best cliché to feed to skeletons,’ concluded Pinprop.

‘A resounding yes to arrivals,’ bellowed the old man.

‘A sonorous yes to escapes,’ crowed the old woman.

There was a brief silence. Old Man and Old Woman looked sternly at Pinprop. Old Woman kicked him beneath the table. Pinprop giggled. Then he stopped. Then, in a demonic whisper, he said:

‘A still, small defiant NO to all that.’

Then they were perfectly immobile, as at the completion of an ancient ritual.

Book Two

One

IT IS NOT
possible to say whether time had passed. Old Man and Old Woman were asleep on the table. Pinprop sat on the ground in front of them, nodding and trying to stay awake. Then there came the sound of footsteps running in their direction; and in the distance the wailing of a siren.

Now and then Old Woman clapped her hands together, and went back to sleep. Old Man snored.

The footsteps got closer. Then there was the noise of exhausted breathing in the woods nearby. Then finally a Man staggered into the clearing. He stopped, saw Pinprop, and sighed.

‘Thank goodness,’ he said.

Then he collapsed on the ground.

Two

OLD MAN RAISED
his head, saw the Man, and went back to sleep. Old Woman lifted her head, saw the Man, clapped her hands together, inspected her palms, and flicked something away with her finger. Then she went back to sleep. Pinprop raised his head, regarded the Man, and resumed nodding in and out of sleep.

After a while the Man got up, dusted himself, and looked about him. He looked from left to right, and back again. He saw Pinprop sitting cross-legged, and went over, and prodded him.

‘Hello, excuse me, please,’ he said.

Pinprop looked up at him, and fell back to nodding.

‘Excuse me, please.’

Pinprop regarded him again, and pushed him away.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ the Man said. ‘All I want is to ask a question.’

Pinprop made an angry face at him.

‘Oh, I see,’ the Man said. ‘You’re dumb. That’s alright then.’

Pinprop resumed nodding. The Man went on talking.

‘It’s just that I’ve been running for a long time. Did you hear all that noise?’

Pinprop nodded.

‘They’ve been chasing me,’ the Man continued. ‘I’ve never been so tired in all my life. I’ve never been more terrified either. Do you know that feeling, when it’s as if you would be running for the rest of your life and you would be pursued by a kind of demonic force? I mean, it all kind of happened naturally. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?’

Pinprop nodded.

‘It’s nice to know someone understands.’

Pinprop snored. The Man went on.

‘I mean, all this time I’ve been running I never saw a single soul. Only trees and sand and water. Especially water. I could never wash myself in it, nor could I drink of it. I was too busy fleeing, you see. Do you understand what I mean?’

Pinprop remained perfectly still.

‘You don’t. That’s alright,’ the Man said. ‘I always had problems getting people to understand me. My headmaster used to say I was a natural victim and so no matter how well I expressed myself I would always be misunderstood. So you see, I don’t even know how long I’ve been running. It’s strange, you know, because even when it was a matter of freedom, life and death, I kept having guilt feelings about stupid things like how I smelt and whether my armpits or my crotch stank. Do you think I smell? I mean can you smell me?’

Pinprop nodded vigorously.

‘So I was right, then.’

Pinprop didn’t move.

‘It was like that at the asylum. Water, trees, sand. On and on. I could never touch them. They were just there. It got too much, you see. I saw them so intensely that they took on an extraordinary quality of beauty. I never saw human beings or animals. Just those things. Then one day I knew I had to escape.’

Three

THE MAN BEGAN
pacing the clearing.

‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It wasn’t a dramatic sort of asylum, with people going about like zombies and foaming at the mouth and all that. It was a place for mild cases. But it was all a lie. I saw one of the inmates bash in another person’s head. And do you know why?’

Old Woman clapped her hands together. Old Man sneezed. Pinprop pulled his nose, slapped his thigh, and resumed nodding. The Man went on.

‘Well, it was because the inmate did not like the way the other fellow sniffed. It was like this, you see. They sort of shared a room. The man who had his head bashed in sniffed far too much for his own good. The other fellow complained for ages that he wanted another room. He never got another room. So one day they had an argument and the fellow who sniffed a lot sniffed and sniffed and sniffed. He went on for hours. At night, at noon, at breakfast, he did it wherever the
other
fellow was. We found him one morning. His head was like an orange mauled by a gorilla. It was all hushed up, you see. The chap had a decent funeral.’

Silence.

‘Don’t you find that funny?’

Pinprop slapped his thigh.

‘Oh well, I do,’ said the Man. ‘I find almost everything I remember sort of funny. And when I find things funny I don’t laugh. I cry. If you tell me a joke and it’s a good one I could cry for hours. That’s why I don’t listen to jokes.’

Four

THE MAN PAUSED
. He stared at Pinprop contemplatively, and then carried on.

‘You know, I saw a good joke while I was running. It sort of wore thin after a while, though. The trees had signs on them, the same sign. Do you know what it read?’

Pinprop sneezed.

‘It read: “Room to Let”. And all the signs were different. Some were small, some were big, some were colourful and so on. The best one I saw was carved on the tree trunk and then painted blue and yellow. It made the room feel like a really special room.’

He paused, and then went on.

‘I used to have a good room once. Then it went sour. You know, routines and routines. I used to live with a brother. He was filthy and I was clean. I would spend hours arranging and rearranging the place. We had lots of horrible arguments. You know, about every silly thing. We fought a lot and he always beat me up. Like a child. Do you want to know a secret?’

Pinprop remained still.

‘Well, I’ll tell you anyway. Since you are dumb you can’t tell anybody, can you? Well, the secret is that I killed him.’