| Toward the
top the fire resistant forest of miniature yucca gradually appeared.
And the swifts, sparse though exotic flowers, and cactus. A good view but
I look forward to the day when I get to see it when all the smoke has been
scrubbed from the air.
We ditched
the bikes and scrambled the last few hundred meters up, Anderson beating
me by just a few steeps, his tan leather loafers amusing me. I was about
ready to drop. We looked at yucca seed pods, hoping to collect a few seeds
for the landscaping project.
I knew Anderson
to be a religious man and felt compelled to say “aqui casa de Deus.”
He agreed firmly with a smile and wandered off to explore more of the open
summit. Soon I could hear him singing prayer calmly as I sat facing
away from the light, trying to count the numerous ridges and enjoying a
smoke.
“Shane,” he
called…not used to hearing my name on mountain tops, but then not used
to having a brother-in-law either. Never had a brother before, but
then, neither has he. Anderson had discovered some small cacti with
long spines. He suggested we dig some up for the return. I
questioned the sanctity of this but then decided that this probably had
been rain forest at one point and only the repeated burn-offs had made
it habitable for yucca and cactus. Not having enough words to construct
an argument against it and wanting to plant a few back in Montreal we tried
to dig with rocks and dead yucca trunks but to no avail. I pulled
out my leatherman and soon we had his day pack stuffed with cactus, clumps
of dried grass, yucca seed pods and various other dried pods.
Having been
squat and digging in the rare air, I stood up too fast and soon found myself
in that pleasant but intimidating place between consciousness and loss
of senses. That brief dream time when past goes away and other than
focus on motor control to remain standing, no real thought. Momentarily
detached in a beautiful place, what could be better? Being that way
all the time perhaps?
We headed back
down the big hill, Anderson rolling like a bat out of hell, no front brake.
I was sure he would bust his ass sooner or later but he never did.
I had to be back in Montreal in time for something to do with preparation
for a baptism the next day. Back in Ibirité on the main highway
Anderson flagged down a man driving a VW microbus and for a small fee he
hauled us and the bikes out the base of the ridge of Montreal. One
thing about living on a ridge, you always have one last uphill hump before
you get home.
Back in the
bairro, Anderson and I planted the cactus, grass and seeds on the north
side of the house where it would get the most sun. Here in this hemisphere
the north side is the hot side as the sun rides the northern sky. Anderson
quickly left and I watered the cactus wondering what karma we had brought
with us from the mountain top knowing the cactus would probably die.
What would don Juan say?
I gave the
rest of the plants in the yard water as well. The avocado reminded me of
being a boy and growing one from a seed. I really liked that little
tree but not sure why. Maybe I knew I would be here one day?
I needed
water and lots of it, stomach and quadriceps almost cramping from the long,
hard ride to the Serra do Rola Moça. I guzzled warm, filtered
water while my wife whipped up some fresh pineapple juice. I soaked up
at least half a gallon and took a shower. I could smell fresh herbs as
she made spaghetti. What a great way to end a ride!
I checked the
internet for weather and found that the 70% chance of rain tomorrow had
been pulled up to tonight; maybe those cacti needed more water?
Enjoyed a great
supper and then dressed in shined black boots, new blue jeans and a black
tee shirt, she dressed mostly in white. Off to the local Catholic church
we went for what I thought was going to be a dry run on the baptism ceremony.
Unfortunately, it was a long monologue on what I think it meant to be a
god parent. Two hours into the deal I remembered why I didn’t go
to church, “My godly,” I finally whispered into my wife’s ear. It was hot
in there too but this was good for my aching muscles. However, sitting
on a hard pew for two hours was not the best way to end a day of hammer
bikin’. My butt hurt from all those bumps!
We cancelled
our plans to go out and meet with her sister and returned to our casa for
a glass of merlot as sanctioned by her gynecologist. We heard a few
drops of rains but they did not last long. She went off to bed and
I decided to go have a cornhusker in the dog house. I waited for
the rain which finally came in the form of cloud bursts. The lightening
and thunder in time with my thinking, very dramatic and exhilarating to
see a new season coming to this new land. If nothing, life here in
Montreal was real, very real. Living in the mountains after all these
years.
Returning to
the veranda and donning a warm cotton shirt I continued to marvel at the
storm. The amount of energy released by a single strike was impressive
and the rumble that followed lasted a long, long time. Man has conquered
nature, what arrogance I think, not sure that view is held around here,
in fact, I rather doubt it.
The moon struggled
to emerge from the clouds, even as the lightening played. It appeared
to be in motion but I decided I was seeing the edge of a thermal rising
toward it. My brain began to impose shapes on the complex interaction
of moonlight and moving clouds. I saw conception, gestation, and
then birth. A baby with a umbilical cord floating in space…I followed
the cord back, a Lucifer like profile appeared to be consuming it…the devil
is eating my child…
There was
an intense flash from toward the mountains lighting up half the sky.
As it faded it appeared to be copper flame green and radiating from below.
What was that? Lightening? A damn bright spot light?
An exploded transformer? What? Hair standing on end, I decided
it was time to get inside the house, the porch sittin’ was gettin’ way
out of hand. Tempestade esquisita, lugar estranho.
Up early for
the baptism, couple cups of locally grown coffee while bird watching.
My friend the black and white eagle (or perhaps it is a hawk?) showed up.
Various roosters and dogs the primary source of sound at this time of day.
Dressed in
dingo boots, blue jeans and white long sleeve button down I head off to
church with my wife who is clad in a jaguar print top, black tights and
high heel sandals. She got the jaguar print garment when she came
to see me in Mexico; it features a midsection that can be adjusted to accommodate
a pregnancy.
Mass went fairly
quickly and painlessly, lightened considerably by the old man with the
acoustic guitar…it had a decal of an alien’s face, one of the “grays”
on it. Only in Brasil, I think. And here I was thinking this
place may be haunted when in fact it’s simply aliens! But wait, I’m
the alien, right? And what about that green light last night?
My wife asked
me if I wanted communion. I told her it had been way, way too many
years since my last confession.
Several kids
got baptized after mass, went smoothly. I felt something, not sure
what, a radiance that shines through space-time perhaps? A spiritual
awakening or more like a spiritual assault? A long lost sense of
community?
Given that
this was a Catholic occasion, we were obliged to attend the post ceremony
drinking and eating festa. Here the Blood of Christ was augmented
with good beer and food. Even though there are countless churches
here in Montreal, only one is Catholic and this is only remarkable given
that Brasil is the largest Catholic country in the world. Montreal’s
got it all except mosques and synagogues. The various Protestant
missions appear to be doing well here but they seem to frown on alcohol
so my money is on the Catholics, they’ve been around longer and drinking
is “não problema.”
Walking back
to our casa I noticed the crazy woman was sitting on her usual perch, the
stones atop the pile of dirt by the dirt lane in front of our house.
She is very pretty and has features that at once resemble asian and african.
Today she was frequently covering her eyes with her hand as if to block
out the view of the world. Being that I am a strange attractor I
was pretty sure she liked me. I seem to be a big hit with the children
of the neighborhood, even infants can tell that I am “from outta town.”
I asked my
wife what the young woman’s name was but she did not know and asked asked
if I wanted to know. “Sim,” I said. So we approached her and
my wife asked her name. She covered and uncovered her eyes and then
said “Elaina”.
“Do you
like looking at the mountains?” I asked Elaina, my wife acting as intrepreter.
Elaina nodded
“yes” as she covered her eyes and looked away toward the mountains.
The following
are Shane's previous articles for the magazine:
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