Henning Mankell - Chronicler Of The Winds

'It's not a matter of money or medicine. Alfredo Bomba has an incurable disease. He has a tumour in his liver. Since neither you nor he knows what a liver is, I won't try to explain. The tumour has already spread through his body. There's nothing we can do to save his life. We can ease his pain, but that's all.'

Nelio sat in silence.

He felt as if the doctor's words had transferred some of Alfredo Bomba's pain to his own stomach. He refused to think that Alfredo Bomba was going to die. And yet he knew that it was true.

'He really doesn't have any parents?' Anselmo asked again. 'Doesn't he have any tia, any avô?'

'He has me and the others,' Nelio said. 'How long does he have to stay in the hospital?'

'He can stay here until he dies. Or he can leave with you now. With the medicine, his pain will almost disappear.'

Nelio stood up. He realised that the man on the other side of the desk thought he was talking to a ten-year-old. But Nelio himself felt as if he were a hundred.

'He'll come with us,' Nelio said. 'His last days will be the best ones he's ever had.'

They left the hospital. Nelio had been given a paper cone with pills that he was supposed to give to Alfredo Bomba when he was in pain. Nelio asked him whether he wanted to ride in the cart back to their street, but Alfredo Bomba said no. They walked along the shady side of the street, down the steep slopes.

'I know I'm going to die,' said Alfredo Bomba.

'You're not going to die,' Nelio said. 'I have medicine in my pocket.'

'Even so, I know that I'm going to die,' Alfredo Bomba said after a while.

'Didn't you hear what I said?' said Nelio angrily.

They walked in silence.

Later that day, when Alfredo Bomba was asleep, Nelio told the others what the doctor had said.

'He can make a wish for whatever he wants,' Nelio said. And whatever it is, we'll give it to him.'

'He can have my trainers right now,' Tristeza said.

'Alfredo Bomba has never liked wearing shoes,' Nelio said. And besides, his feet are smaller than yours. He's the only one who can tell us what he wants.'

That night Nelio didn't go to his statue to sleep in the horse's belly. They made a fire behind the petrol station. They had all done their utmost during the day to earn enough money so they could cook a feast over the open fire. Alfredo Bomba sat closest to the fire, wrapped in a blanket because he was cold. Nelio had given him a pill. The pain was gone, but Alfredo could do little more than taste the food they had made for him.

'I'm sure you'll be well soon,' Nelio said. 'But until then, I want you to make a wish for whatever it is you want most.'

Alfredo Bomba didn't seem to understand what Nelio was saying. 'Whatever I want?' he said slowly.

'Whatever you want.'

'I've never heard of anybody wishing for what he wanted most and then actually getting it.'

'Then you'll be the first,' Nelio said.

Alfredo Bomba sat for a long time, pondering what Nelio had said. Nascimento and Mandioca disappeared every once in a while to look for more wood to keep the fire going. The city grew more and more quiet; silence descended over the group sitting around the fire.

Then Alfredo Bomba began to speak. 'I remember that my mama once told me about something amazing when I was little. She said it was true, but I've always thought it was a fairy tale, the kind that you tell to children. But I've never forgotten what she said. Maybe now I should try to find out if it was true or not.'

A mother doesn't lie to her children,' Mandioca said.

'Quiet,' Nelio said. 'Don't interrupt. Let him talk in peace.'

'There's supposed to be a place where the living and the dead meet,' Alfredo Bomba said. 'It's supposed to be a huge garden, with a river running through it. In the middle of the river there's an island that's nothing but sand. If you ever visit that island, afterwards you'll never be afraid of anything for the rest of your life. If it's true that I can wish for whatever I want most, then I wish that I could go there.'

'Yes,' Nelio said when Alfredo Bomba had stopped. 'I've heard of that river and an oval-shaped island made of sand. I've also heard there's a kind of lizard there that sings. But maybe I'm mistaken. I think you're right – you should visit that place.'

'I don't know where it is,' Alfredo Bomba said. 'How can you go someplace without knowing where it is?'

'We'll deal with that,' Nelio said. 'I have an atlas of the world. The one that Tristeza found in the rubbish bin. I'll talk to Abu Cassamo, the photographer, tomorrow morning. He might know.'

'Do you really think it's possible?' asked Alfredo Bomba.

'Yes,' Nelio said. 'I think it's possible.'

Alfredo huddled under his blanket next to the fire and fell asleep.

'So we're going on a journey,' Nelio said a little later. 'We'll need a lot of money, and we have to find out where that place is. And we don't have much time, either, before Alfredo Bomba gets too sick to make the journey.'

'There's no river and there's no island,' Nascimento said. 'I won't be part of this deception. It's better that we let him go to the movies every night. I don't think Alfredo Bomba has ever been to the movies.'

'They'll never let him in,' Mandioca said. 'He doesn't have any shoes. You have to have shoes and a ticket to go to the movies. If you only have a ticket, you can't get in.'

'Sometimes all of you talk too much,' Nelio said, not hiding his annoyance. 'We're going to find that place, and we're going to get enough money together so that we can go there. Now we'd better get some sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow. And to show you that I'm serious, I'm going to sleep here tonight.'

'It's no good if you get sick too,' Tristeza said, worried.

Alfredo Bomba is sicker than me. That's the only thing that matters.'

They settled down for the night. Nascimento crawled inside his cardboard box and pulled the lid shut. Nelio curled up next to Alfredo Bomba. He lay there thinking that he had taken on a great responsibility. Alfredo was counting on getting what he had wished for. No one had the right to disappoint someone who was dying.

That night Nelio slept badly, tormented by disturbing dreams. The dreams that plagued him all had faces and reminded him of the young bandits who had clung to their bloody weapons. They had taken away his trousers and his ability to think and feel. He found himself near a river and caught sight of his face in the water. He was looking at a ghost, an old man with sunken eyes and a grimy stubble on his face. From the other side of the river Yabu Bata shouted something to him, but he couldn't understand what he said. Nelio woke up before it was light. Alfredo Bomba was sleeping next to him, on his back with his mouth open, like a little child. Nelio thought it would be wise for him to start this important day by trying to understand the dreams he had had during the night. From his father he had learned that dreams often contain omens. They might be puzzling, but it was a person's task to interpret the omens and to act accordingly.

'People sleep in order to dream,' his father had told him. 'The reason we wake up afterwards is so that we have the chance to interpret our dreams.'

Nelio thought that it would have been easier if he were lying inside the horse's belly. There he was used to studying his dreams. He needed to be alone if he was going to listen to the voices of the night that spoke to him. Here, surrounded by the sleeping band, he had no peace.

With the first glow of morning light in the sky, Nelio got up, carefully so as not to wake the others, and walked across the deserted street to Abu Cassamo's shop. He listened at the door and could hear the sound of shuffling footsteps inside. He knocked gently and waited. Abu Cassamo peeked from the doorway after undoing all the locks and the safety chain, which were his security against the world he mistrusted. His eyes that were always melancholy regarded Nelio standing outside.