The Collected Novels of José Saramago (148 page)

During their meeting, as had been agreed beforehand, the European Community issued a solemn declaration, whereby it was made clear that the displacement of the Iberian countries toward the west would not jeopardize the agreements in force, all the more so since the separation was nothing more than a few meters, minimal, really, when compared with the distance that separates England from the continent, not to mention Iceland or Greenland, which have so little in common with Europe. This declaration, with its clear objectives, was what resulted from a heated debate among the members of the commission, during which some delegates displayed what can only be called a detached attitude, there is no more precise adjective, even going so far as to suggest that if the Iberian peninsula wished to go away then let it go, the mistake was to have allowed it to come in. Naturally, this was all said in fun, a
joke,
in these awkward international gatherings people also have to amuse themselves, there has to be more than just work, work, work, but the Portuguese and Spanish members strongly objected to this blatantly provocative remark, so anti-community in spirit, each quoting in his own language the well-known Iberian proverb, A friend in need is a friend indeed. A declaration of Atlantic solidarity was also requested from the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, but the reply, without being negative, came to be summed up in an unpublishable phrase, Wait
and see,
words, moreover, that didn’t quite express the whole truth, considering that the bases of Beja, Rota, Gibraltar, El Ferrol, Torrejón de Ardoz, Cartagena and San Turjo de Valenzuela, not to mention smaller installations, had all been put on alert as a precautionary measure.

Then the Iberian peninsula moved a little farther, one meter, two meters, just to test its strength. The ropes that served as evidence, strung from one side to the other like those used by firemen when walls develop cracks and threaten to cave in, broke like ordinary string, some of the stronger ones uprooted the trees and posts to which they were tied. Then there was a pause, a great gust of wind could be felt rushing through the air, like the first deep breathing of someone awakening, and the mass of stone and earth, covered with cities, villages, rivers, woodlands, factories, wild scrub, cultivated fields, with all their inhabitants and livestock, began to move, a ship drawing away from harbor and heading out once more to an unknown sea.

This olive tree is
cordovil,
or
cordovesa,
or
cordovia,
what does it matter, for these three names are used indifferently on Portuguese soil, and the olive fruit it produces, because of its size and beauty, would be referred to here as the queen of olives but not as Cordovan, although we’re closer to Cordoba than to the frontier beyond. These seem superfluous details of no real importance, melismatic vocalizations, the ornamental artifices of a plainsong that dreams of wings of sonorous melody, when it is much more important to speak of the three men seated beneath the olive tree, one of whom is Pedro Orce, the second Joaquim Sassa, the third José Anaiço, what prodigious events or deliberate manipulations could have brought them together in this place. But calling the olive tree
cordovil
will at least serve to show just how remiss the Evangelists were, when, for example, they confined themselves to writing that Jesus cursed the fig tree, this information should be enough for us but it isn’t enough, no sir, after all, twenty centuries have passed and we still do not know whether the cursed tree produced white or black figs, early or late, of this or that variety, not that Christian doctrine is likely to suffer because of this omission, but historical truth most certainly suffers. Anyhow, the olive tree is
cordovil,
and three men are sitting under it. Beyond these hills, and invisible from here, there is a village where Pedro Orce once lived, and by a strange coincidence, the first of them, if this is the first of several coincidences, he and the village bear the same name, a fact that neither diminishes nor increases the verisimilitude of the story, a man can be called Metcalfe or Merryweather without being a butcher or a meteorologist. As we have already observed, these are coincidences and manipulations, but made in good faith.

They are sitting on the ground, in their midst can be heard the nasal twang of a radio that must have weak batteries, and the announcer is making the following statement, According to the latest measurements, the velocity of the peninsula’s displacement has stabilized at around seven hundred and fifty meters per hour, more or less eighteen kilometers per day, that may not seem a lot, but if we work it out carefully, that means each minute we move away twelve and a half meters from Europe, and while we should avoid giving way to panic and despair, the situation is truly worrying. And it would be even more worrying if you were to say that we are talking about just over two centimeters and a bit per second, remarked José Anaiço, who was quick at making mental calculations, but incapable of carrying the computations out to tenths and hundredths, Joaquim Sassa asked him to be quiet, he wanted to listen to the announcer, and it was worth his while, According to the latest reports we have received, a great crack has appeared between La Línea and Gibraltar, therefore it is feared, bearing in mind the irreversible outcome of the fractures so far, that El Peñón may end up isolated in the middle of the sea, if this should happen there is no point in blaming the British, we are to blame, yes, Spain is to blame for not having known how to recover in good time this sacred piece of the fatherland, now it is too late, El Peñón itself is abandoning us. This man is an artist with words, said Pedro Orce, but the announcer had already changed his tone, had overcome his emotion. In Great Britain, the Prime Minister’s office has issued a statement whereby the government of Her Majesty the Queen reaffirms what is referred to as British rights over Gibraltar, which have now been confirmed, we are quoting, by the incontrovertible fact that
El Peñón
or The Rock has detached itself from Spain, and all the negotiations that were proceeding toward an eventual, if somewhat problematic, transfer of sovereignty are thus unilaterally and definitively suspended, There are still no signs of the British Empire’s imminent end, quipped José Anaiço. In a statement read in the House of Commons, Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition demanded that the north side of the island be fortified without delay, so as to transform the steep rock all around its perimeter into the wall of an unassailable fortress, proudly isolated in the middle of the now widened Atlantic, as a symbol of the enduring power of Albion. They’re mad, Pedro Orce muttered, contemplating the heights of the Sierra de Sagra rising before him. For its part, the government, attempting to reduce the political impact of any claim, replied that Gibraltar, in its new geostrategic conditions would continue to be one of the jewels in the crown of Her Britannic Majesty, a formula that like the Magna Carta has the magnificent virtue of satisfying everyone, this ironic conclusion was provided by the announcer, who took his leave by saying, We’ll be back with more news in an hour’s time, barring any unforeseen circumstances. A flock of starlings flew past like a hurricane passing over a bare mountain,
vruuuuuuuuuu,
Are they yours, asked Joaquim Sassa, and, without even turning around, José Anaiço replied, They’re mine, he ought to know, for ever since that first day, amid the green fields of Ribatejo, they have scarcely ever been apart, only to eat and sleep, a man does not nourish himself on worms and scattered grains and a bird sleeps in the trees without any bedclothes. The flock flew around in a wide circle, fluttering, wings trembling, beaks drinking in the air and sunlight, the few clouds, white and piled high, navigated through space like galleons, the men, these like all others, looked at the different things, and, as usual, did not really understand them.

It certainly was not to listen to a transistor radio in one another’s company that Pedro Orce, Joaquim Sassa, and José Anaiço gathered here, having traveled from such different places. For the last three minutes we have known that Pedro Orce lives in the village that lies hidden behind these hills, we have known from the outset that Joaquim Sassa came from the shores of northern Portugal, and José Anaiço, we now know for certain, was strolling through the fields of Ribatejo when he came across the starlings, and we would have guessed as much had we paid sufficient attention to the details of the landscape. What remains to be known is how the three men met one another and why they are hidden away here under an olive tree, unique in this spot, among rare and unruly dwarf trees that cling to the white soil, the sun is reflected on all around the plains, the air shimmers, this is the heat of Andalusia, and although we are surrounded by mountains, we suddenly become conscious of these material things, we have entered the real world, or it has forced its way in.

If one thinks about it, there is no beginning for things and persons, everything that began one day had begun before, the history of this sheet of paper, for example, just to take an item at hand, in order to be true and complete, would have to date back to the origins of the world, the plural has been used here deliberately instead of the singular, yet even so, we could ask whether those first origins were not simply points of transition, sliding ramps, this poor head of ours, subject to such exertions, an admirable head, nevertheless, which for all sorts of reasons is capable of going mad, except for this one.

There is, then, no beginning, but there was a moment when Joaquim Sassa left the spot where he found himself, on a beach in northern Portugal, perhaps Afife, that beach with the enigmatic stones, or better still A-Ver-o-Mar, which means Seaview, to arrive at the most perfect name imaginable for a beach, poets and novelists could not have invented anything better. From there Joaquim Sassa came, having heard that a certain Pedro Orce from Spain could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet when there were no tremors, this is the natural curiosity of someone who threw a heavy stone into the sea with a strength he didn’t possess, all the more so since the peninsula wrenched itself away from Europe without any shock or pain, like a hair quietly falling, simply because it was willed by God, as the saying goes. He set out in his old Citroën Deux Chevaux, he did not say good-bye to his family, alas, for he has no family, nor did he give any explanation to the manager of the office where he works. This is vacation time, you can come and go as you please, now they don’t even ask to see your passport at the frontier, you simply show your identity card and the peninsula is yours. On the seat, beside him, he carries a transistor radio, distracts himself by listening to music, the prattling of the announcers, sweet and soothing like an acoustic cradle, suddenly irritating, that was in normal times, now the ether is rippling with febrile words, the news coming in from the Pyrenees, the exodus, the crossing of the Red Sea, Napoleon’s retreat. Here on the roads of the interior, there is little traffic, nothing in comparison to the Algarve, all that bustle and turmoil, or with Lisbon, and the highways going north and south, Pórtela airport looks now like a besieged stronghold, an invasion of ants, iron filings attracted by a magnet. Joaquim Sassa rolls peacefully through the shady lanes of La Beira, heading for a village called Orce, in the Province of Granada, on Spanish soil, where the aforesaid man lives who spoke on television. I’m going there to see if there is any connection between what happened to me and this business of someone who can feel the ground shaking under his feet, once you start imagining things, you start putting two and two together, more often than not you were mistaken, sometimes you hit the nail on the head, a stone thrown into the sea, the earth shaking, a cordillera that has split open. Joaquim Sassa is also traveling amid mountains, even if they can’t be compared with those Titans, but suddenly he feels uneasy. Suppose the same thing were to happen here, suppose A Estrela were to crack, the Mondego to sink into the bowels of the earth leaving the autumn poplars without a mirror in which to reflect themselves, his thoughts have become poetic, the danger has passed.

At this moment, the music stopped, the announcer began to read the news, there was nothing fresh to report, the only item of any interest, was a bulletin from London, the Prime Minister had gone to the House of Commons to state, categorically, that British sovereignty over Gibraltar warrants no discussion, whatever the distance separating the Iberian peninsula from Europe, to which the leader of the opposition had added a formal guarantee promising the most loyal cooperation from his fellow members and party, At this great moment in our history. But he then introduced a note of irony into his solemn speech, eliciting laughter from all the honorable members, The Prime Minister committed a serious mistake by speaking of a peninsula when referring to what is now unquestionably an island, although by no means as solid as our own,
of course.
The members of parliament cheered this closing remark, exchanging complacent grins with their opponents, and to be sure, there is nothing like the national interest to unite politicians of opposing tendencies. Joaquim Sassa also grinned, Such a comedy, and then suddenly he caught his breath, the announcer had spoken his name, Senhor Joaquim Sassa, who is traveling somewhere in the country, is kindly requested, we repeat, Senhor Joaquim Sassa is kindly requested, they were asking him kindly to present himself as soon as possible to the nearest officials, in order to assist the authorities with their investigations into the causes of the geological fracture observed in the Pyrenees, for the competent bodies are convinced that the aforesaid Joaquim Sassa can give them information of national interest, we repeat our appeal, Senhor Joaquim Sassa is requested, but Senhor Joaquim Sassa was not listening, he had been obliged to stop the car in order to recover his composure, his sangfroid, so long as his hands continued to tremble like this he would not even be able to drive, his ears were roaring like a seashell, Good heavens, how did they find out about the stone, there wasn’t another soul on the beach, at least as far as I could see, and I didn’t say a word to anyone, for they would have called me a liar, but someone somewhere must have been watching me after all, although no one usually pays any attention to someone throwing stones into the water, yet they spotted me at once, rotten luck, and then you know what happens, one person speaks to another and adds on what he thought he saw but could not have seen, when this story reached the ears of the authorities, the stone must have been as big as I am, at the very least, and now what am I going to do. He would not answer the appeal, he would not present himself to any civil or military official, just imagine what an absurd dialogue that would be, behind closed doors, the tape recorder playing, Senhor Joaquim Sassa, did you throw a stone into the sea, I did, How much would you say it weighed, I don’t know, perhaps two or three kilos, Or more, Yes, it could have been more, Here are some stones, try holding them, and tell me which one comes closest in weight to the stone you threw, This one, Let’s weigh it, like so, all right now, please check the weight with your own eyes, I’d never
have thought it could weigh so much, five kilos, six hundred grams, Now tell me, have you ever experienced anything like this before, Never, Are you certain, Absolutely, You don’t suffer from any mental or nervous disorders, epilepsy, somnambulism, trances of any kind, No sir, We’ll take an electroencephalogram later, for the moment try your strength on this machine over here, What is it, A dynamometer, put as much pressure on it as you can, This is all I can do, Is that all, I’ve never had much strength in my arms, Senhor Joaquim Sassa, you couldn’t possibly have thrown that stone, I’m inclined to agree, but I did, We know that you threw it, there are witnesses, persons of the utmost reliability, so you must tell us how you managed it, I’ve already explained, I was walking along the beach when I saw the stone, I picked it up and threw it, That’s impossible, The witnesses can confirm it, True, but the witnesses cannot say where that strength came from, only you can tell us, I’ve already told you I don’t know, The situation, Senhor Sassa, is very serious, I’d go so far as to say exceedingly serious, the rupture of the Pyrenees cannot be explained by natural causes, otherwise we would be in the midst of a planetary catastrophe, it was on the basis of this evidence that we began to investigate certain unusual events that have taken place in recent days, and yours is one of them, Surely throwing a stone into the water couldn’t cause a continent to crack up, I have no desire to engage in idle philosophizing, but do you see any connection between a monkey’s descending from a tree twenty million years ago and the making of a nuclear bomb, The connection is, precisely, those twenty million years, Good answer, but now let’s suppose that it might be possible to reduce to hours the time between a cause, which in this case would be the throwing of a stone, and an effect, such as the peninsula’s separation from Europe, in other words, let us suppose that, under normal conditions, that stone thrown into the sea would only produce its effect twenty million years hence, but that, under other conditions, precisely those of the phenomenon we are now investigating, the effect is observed some hours, or days, later, That’s pure speculation, the cause might well be something else, Or a combination of this and another, concurrent, event, Then other unusual events would have to be investigated, That’s what we’re in the process of doing, and the Spaniards, too, as in the case of the man who could feel the earth shaking, By adopting this method, once you have examined the unusual events, you will have to proceed to the usual ones, The what ones, The usual ones, What do you mean by usual, Usual is the opposite of unusual, its antonym, If necessary, we shall pass from the unusual to the usual events, but we must discover the cause, You have a lot of investigating ahead of you, We’re making a start, tell me where you found the strength. Joaquim Sassa made no reply, he silenced his imagination, all the more so since the dialogue was threatening to go around in circles, now he would have to repeat, I don’t know, and the rest would be as before, with some minor variations, albeit mostly of form, yet this was precisely where he would have to be careful, because, as we know, through form one arrives at the substance, through the wrapping at the contents, through the sound of the word at its meaning.