Alejandro Jodorowsky - Where the Bird Sings Best

“The black man had a coughing fit. When he recovered, he returned Fanny to me and went on talking: ‘Now we must leave. Soon, sick as I am, I will give up the ghost. When this little girl turns seventeen, she will be my mother. But I, worn out after so many reincarnations, will only live nine months in her womb. I shall be stillborn.’

“During many mornings, Fanny would run off, go to the plaza, sit down in the center of the kiosk and start to cry, whispering ‘Papa.’ Her hair began to curl and to take on a reddish color similar to the Hindu’s costume. I had to buy Lola a wooden flute. She discovered that the only thing that interested her in life was music. When we finally removed the clay shell from Benjamín’s head, we were dismayed to see that he was completely bald. We thought he would be sad, but to the contrary, he was happy.

“‘Mama, when I grow up, I don’t want to have a single hair. I want my eyebrows and lashes to fall out, I want nothing to grow in my armpits or on my pubis, and I don’t want teeth or nails. I’ll be happy when I have no animal traces on my body.’

“The only comment Jaime made was the promise that when he grew up, he’d be a tamer of lions, tigers, panthers, and elephants in a circus.”

Teresa, with great difficulty, finished her last sentence with a long and soft “ciiircuuus” and fell asleep next to the twins. The Rabbi took that as an opportunity to show Alejandro a grandfather, father, and young son praying, wearing the black horn of the tefillin on their foreheads. Next to them a ravaged woman gave her breast to an anxious baby. Just beyond, to the right, to the left, throughout the car, men were imploring God. From each one of those genuine families, all sharing in the suffering, arose a peace bestowed by permanent contact with the Truth.

Alejandro, deeply moved, and following the Rabbi’s insistent counsel, very carefully removed the coffer from between Teresa’s breasts and replaced it with one of his shoes. Then, limping along, he went over to one of the religious Jews, opened the box, showed the contents, and whispered, “I will exchange gold coins for any kind of money.” He went about from group to group distributing his treasure and getting in return copper or nickel coins and banknotes of little value.

Weeping with gratitude, they tried to kiss the foot wearing the shoe, but he silenced the poor wretches out of fear my grandmother would awaken. He distributed the greater part of the gold, leaving only what was strictly necessary for the voyage, that is, the price of passage to the United States and the cost of living in France while waiting for the ship to sail. He checked the weight of the coffer. It was lighter now, so he put in a Bible he’d hidden away. When he pulled out his shoe, it almost burned his hands — that’s how hot Teresa’s huge breasts had made it. Then he put the jewel box back in its place.

His wife woke up a few seconds later, insulted God as was her custom, and went back to dreaming. It started to snow. It stopped snowing. It rained. The sun came out. They changed trains again and again until they lost count of the changes. Jaime and Fanny traded punches. Benjamín and Lola insulted each other. In Germany, a large number of Jews left the train. The remaining refuges were met in Paris by the Universal Israelite Alliance.

Alejandro, with deep nostalgia, watched his fellow Jews embrace and kiss, weeping with emotion, as if they’d known one another since childhood. He felt a pang in his heart when he realized he was no longer part of that family. Alone in that immense train station rocked by violent gusts of cold air, disoriented, he, his wife, their four children, the Rabbi: branches without a tree, swallows without a flock, severed hands floating in the void.

Alejandro regretted using the Holy Book to compensate for the weight the leather coffer had lost. He wanted never to move again, to become as immaterial as his friend, to sink his nose into the text and remain there, a deaf mute, reading forever. Teresa and the children, impressed by that monumental and horribly alien train station, clung to him. Where could they go without an address, without speaking a word of French? The Rabbi began to recite Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Why art thou so far from helping me, and from the cries of my anguish?” And suddenly an answer came.

An elegant man — with a monocle and walking stick, a fur coat, gaiters, and a top hat — mopping the perspiration from his face with a silk handkerchief, trotted up to them and said in refined Russian, “Pardon my tardiness, dear compatriots. I am the envoy of the Russian Committee, whose mission it is to guide the subjects of our noble land through the Parisian labyrinth. A free service provided by the government. Here is a list of hotels, restaurants, museums, stores, theaters, money exchanges (with all prices clearly marked).” And, kissing Teresa’s hand, he introduced himself, “Count Stanislav Spengler at your service. What is the name of the family with whom I have the honor of speaking?”

Alejandro began to cough, pursed his lips, and stared at his wife with eyes that begged for help. If he pronounced a single word, his Jewish accent would betray him. Teresa made her mouth small to imitate the aristocracy, assumed a pardoning air, and, imagining herself as a countess — that is, wearing clothes dripping diamonds, emeralds, rubies, gold medals, and spangles— burst out in a high, nasal voice:

“We are the Jodorowsky family — Alejandro, Teresa, Benjamín, Jaime, Lola, and Fanny. We’re from Odessa, honey merchants, but with noble Polish ancestors, people with lots of money!”

And moved by some obscure impulse, she extracted the coffer from her cleavage; tossed it around, making a huge sign of the cross; and then restored it to its refuge. The Count’s monocle dropped from his right eye. An embarrassed silence ensued. Jaime broke it by walking over to the train to squirt out a yellow arc that splashed among the steel wheels. In a dry voice, the envoy of the Reception Committee asked to see their official papers. He examined them carefully, smiled, and said, “Well, I’ll be frank with you. No matter how many Polish last names you may have, madam, by your manner of speaking it’s obvious you’re Israelites. I’d appreciate your not wasting my time by denying it. All we need to prove it is the penis of the boy we saw urinating.”

Teresa shot a furious glance at Jaime. Fanny and Benjamín laughed. Lola looked at them all with disdain. Alejandro could only think about the Count’s boots. He’d never seen footwear that fine, and that cruel perfection terrified him.

“You are all very lucky, because even though I’m of noble birth, I don’t harbor anti-Semitic feelings. Quite the contrary, I think of Jews as old friends. My father amused himself in the desolate winters of White Russia studying dead languages, which is why he took an interest in Hebrew. One day, he discovered that Jews kept that ancient tongue alive. From then on, a steady stream of rabbis, bankers, and Jewish doctors passed through our mansion. We received them with the respect the bearers of such a marvelous culture deserve. So don’t worry. While this makes my task more difficult — you cannot be received by our committee, which is only for Russians — I’ll put myself at your service. We will speak more comfortably in a private room in the restaurant next to the station. Come with me.”

Relieved, smiling, they followed the Count, who for his part imitated a tourist guide and gave them a thousand and one explanations of insignificant details of the great city. Then, seated opposite bowls of onion soup and a platter of fried potatoes in a discreet corner, they talked calmly. When Stanislav Spengler found out they wanted to live in the United States, he shook his hair cream — coated head from side to side, sighing in discouragement. “Because of the legend now spread all over Europe that three hundred Jewish magnates secretly dominate the world, hundreds of thousands of Israelites have been forced to flee to America. It’s almost impossible to get visas. Nevertheless, I have a good friend in that consulate, the secretary general, who can do us that favor. But it will cost a lot of money, perhaps more than you have!”