The Tiger from Africa -------------------------------------------- By Soter Barreto Translated from the Konkani by Augusto Pinto --------------------------------------------
Alsu pulled out the bit of beedi that was stuck behind his ear and after carefully wiping it, put it in his mouth. Striking a matchstick he lit it and took a deep drag and as he did this his decayed teeth could be seen. Truth to tell, those rotted teeth and his beedi-end seemed made for one another. Alsu was a paddekar, a coconut plucker from the village. Today's harvest of coconuts had been good. After going home and having a thorough bath, Alsu set out for Kistu's gadhi. Today he had something special to ask Kistu. Hang on there! Did I say Kistu's gadhi? Arrecha!! In olden times it was alright to call it a gadhi but in our day and age to call it so was not just a sin but a cardinal sin; for like other gadhis it had transformed itself into a bar -- 'Bar and Restaurant Vailankanni'. But for Alsu and the other paddekars and manual labourers of the village it remained Kistu's gadhi like the old days. They would gather there and chit-chat about this and that as they had their drinks and thus would pass their time. But one thing was different -- the Bar was run by old Kistu's son who had been also named Christopher, or Kistu for short, after his father. As I was saying earlier, Alsu had something to ask Kistu, a sort of nagging doubt about which only Kistu was capable of throwing light. That was because Kistu was the treasure-chest of all the little and large secrets of the village as well as a perennial spring of a variety of information; one day the waters of Kesarval and Torsam springs might cease to flow but our Kistu's spring of news would never dry. Reallly speaking, Alsu was a bit of a funk by nature but still, today he had firmly resolved to clarify the issue. For that reason he first needed to moisten his throat and warm his belly. Hence to give himself courage he placed his order, "Kistu, one pav of alem for me please!" Holding the pav Kistu stretched his arm out for a bottle of soda, but Alsu stopped him, "No, no!! Today I won't have a soda. My throat's beginning to itch a bit -- I think I'm getting a cold." Alsu slowly steered his rudder askew: could he tell him that what he wanted to ask needed some courage, which was why he was taking his drink neat. Xi - that would be too embarrassing! Alsu gave an appraising stare at the strongly built and smart Kistu who had the looks of a Hindi film hero, as he threw his glass back and took a big swig of his alem. You could almost see from the expressions on Alsu's face how the liquor was making its fiery course down his throat, through his gullet and into his stomach. “Xi - Kistu, your alem is pretty strong re!” - were the words Alsu managed to utter after emitting a sharp cough and massaging his throat. “What is this you say, Alsu-bab! Can I give you just any ordinary stuff? The alem I gave you is really mature. I kept it aside for my regular customers,” said Kistu, increasing the proof of his alem, his ginger flavoured coconut feni, as he spoke. One thing for sure: if anyone in the village wanted local or even imported liquor, then it would be available with Kistu. There was a time when whenever the village's biggest landlord or vhoddlo bhatkar -- Afrikanist -- wanted branco, tinto, cognac, whiskey, he'd supply it at his doorstep. In many ways Kistu by nature was very helpful. When Afrikanist bhatkar was abroad, he used to even look after his house and property. Besides he was the bhatkar's neighbour. It was only of late however that he had become a little estranged from Afrikanist. And the information that Alsu wanted to know, was precisely about Afrikanist bhatkar! Just then two of his fellow paddekars, Ruzai and Sodu entered and sat at his table. Seeing them Alsu felt even more confident. The pav of alem had settled in his belly by now and it was rapidly getting warmer. By this time one could hear the sound of music playing. Sodu said: "Looks like there's a party at Afrikanist bhatkar's place. This music we can be hear, and those pik-pik lights as well, are from their house." Hearing this Ruzar quietly glanced at Kistu while Sodu grabbed the reins, "It's because of Afrikanist's baby boy -- every other day they throw some party or the other to celebrate. And the amazing thing is he's nearing 80 years old, it seems." Alsu had been only waiting for an excuse to shove his finger in. He had heard a few things about the story of Afrikanist bhatkar's, but not as much as Kistu. Afrikanist bhatkar was the biggest landlord in the village. Although his name was Jose Emerciano Teodosio de Castelo Branco e Dias, the villagers knew him better as 'Afrikanist'. There were good reasons for nicknaming him Afrikanist -- he had spent the better part of his life in the Portuguese East African colony of Mozambique. His mother Dona Telma was the only daughter of the landlord of the village and when she was studying at the Lyceum, she fell in love with a Portuguese Paklo, as the Whites were known, and made him the ghorzavoim, as a husband who lives at his in-laws house is called. Jose Emerciano-bab, their only son, after completing his education was appointed to an important post in the Portuguese administration in Mozambique. He lived there for a good number of years. After the death of his parents, he saw that his house and properties were going to seed, so he was forced to come back home, and that too at a pretty advanced age. Before he returned all his interests were looked after by Kistu. The way people told it, when Jose was in Africa he lived a life of profligacy during his youth; yet although he waded around waist deep in muck, he still, so to speak, managed to keep his kaxxti dry. And the real finger licking story was that two years ago he had gone on a holiday and when he returned. he came back married! And the wife he had brought with him was an extremely fair 25 year old who looked as beautiful as a doll. One year later they were blessed with a baby boy. Today was his birthday, which was why a party was being thrown at their house. However nowadays Kistu did not go to their house like before. Alsu had finished his second pav by now, and somehow he wanted to put to rest the nagging doubt that he had in his head. He called out to Kistu in a slightly raised voice: “Kistu-bab come here for a while! There's something important I want to ask you. Arre, you know the most minute details of what goes on in the village, isn't it?" By now it was easy to tell that Alsu was beginning to get sozzled. Kistu began to wonder whether he had made a mistake serving him his most mature alem. Anyway, he pushed the pav aside and asked Alsu, "Alsu tell me... what's it you would like to know?" "Kistu-bab look here... Afrikanist has become really old hasn't he?" Kistu agreed. "And Afrikanist's wife is a really stunning thing -- correct?" Once again Kistu nodded his head in agreement. "In that case, tell me something. At such an age can one beget children so... quickily? So saying he thumped the table with his hand. Fortunately Ruzar, Sodu and Kistu grabbed hold of the glasses and bottles. Before Kistu could reply, Ruzar jumped in with his opinion, "What's so surprising about that? They say that a man and a coconut tree will bear fruit till they die." Alsu lost his temper, "Ruzar, no one asked your opinion. Keep your mouth shut!! Yes Kistu, tell me what you have to say." He trained his sights on Kistu once again. Kistu passed an eye over the bar. As luck would have it except for them, the bar at that moment was empty. He began to tell Alsu: "Alsu I'll tell you a story -- listen to it carefully -- alright? It's a story from Africa, about a hunter. One day he went for a walk in the forest. Because he intended to go for a short stroll before returning home, he hadn't bothered to carry his rifle with him and all he had in his hand was a walking stick. As he walked along a tiger appeared before his very eyes. The hunter was petrified but after all he was a hunter and thought it would be unwise to show the tiger that he was frightened. So he instinctively lifted his walking stick up to his shoulder like a rifle and uttered a loud 'dddho' sound. And the amazing thing was, the tiger just dropped dead. The hunter felt that the tiger died of shock because of the terrible noise he had made and he went on to tell this story to everyone he met with great pride. But the truth was quite different. When the hunter lifted his walking stick to his shoulder and emitted that loud sound, behind him hidden from his view behind a tree there was another man who actually fired the shot. Did you understand?" The effect of the alem that Alsu had enjoyed was quickly beginning to wear off: "Your mama and papa are black, my lovely, How's it you are so white?" "Know my man, that I was born, On a full moon night!" Singing this ditty Alsu made his way back home. ----------------------------------------------------- [About the Author: Born in 1944, the Margao-based Soter Barreto retired as an official in the Government Health Services. He is a veteran Konkani activist who was a former secretary of the Konknni Bhasha Mandal. He has written in both the Roman and Devanagari scripts and is the author of several exquisite poems and stories in Konkani. This story was first published in Konkani as Afrikanist] Augusto Pinto pinto...@gmail.com is based in Moira, was born in Africa, and is known for his skilled Konkani-to-English translations.