Rodrigo Leao - All Dogs are Blue

We’re going to keep you here under arrest for now.

And Xuma?

The pair of you will be here for a while now.

The officer took us to a storeroom and started laying into us. Beat us until we bled. Until our noses were bloody. I kept telling Xuma that Todog didn’t allow violence and we couldn’t react if we were truly men of faith. I asked why they were doing it and they said they didn’t know why they were beating us, but we knew why we were being beaten.

Todog stuff.

It was a way to ease our guilt and our pain.

We were taken before the judge and sentenced to four years for sedition. The first thing I thought of was Todog. In those four years what would become of the hundreds of people who had believed in me?

All dogs are blue? I swallowed a chip. I swallowed a cricket. What else is left to devour in this world?

Carnival only wears the colours of short-lived happiness. Dealing with lunatics or with normal people: what’s the difference? What is reality? How many pieces of wood do you need to make that canoe? How many mortars do you need to sink that boat?

At times like these I get to thinking about my mum and the orange cake she would make every Friday. Rimbaud and Baudelaire never visited me again. Either I’m cured or even crazier. I’m more locked away than ever. No one ever does the right thing, however much they try. How is it my fault that I’m locked up? Rimbaud: why don’t you come around to cheer me up? I’ve been abandoned. Baudelaire: you’re a bore, but you write well. Drop by, both of you. Come over. You guys cut me off without warning. Some rats scuttle between my cell and Xuma’s cell. Todog apartenum politicum est . The rats form a circle and dance the can-can.

‌I saw an Umbanda 16ritual that day. A decapitated chicken. A goat was sacrificed and I was soaked in blood. I was fifteen and I swallowed a cricket, then I saved the house from the termites. Four years in here.

Fourth of November: the day I was born. No cake and no party. Nothing.

I got a tricycle, but the neighbour already had a bicycle. I want a bicycle, a bicycle without training wheels, so I can learn how to fall. Happiness.

Hi, you’ve just received an important email: take Viagra.

Every being — no matter how nasty — had a childhood, had an adolescence. How do these facts affect adult life? Could my childhood have determined who I’d turn out to be? I was a quiet boy. Had a far-away look. Sometimes I wonder, given how many problems I’ve got, whether my parents didn’t hide something from me. I didn’t fool around with guys. I wasn’t molested. I dated a pretty girl. I had everything I wanted. Why had fate done this to me? What was Hitler’s childhood like?

Xuma looks at me and says something in Todog. For four years we only spoke in Todog.

Four years passed quickly. We were put in with the most dangerous prisoners. But thankfully the days flew by. In the meantime, the Todogs on the outside multiplied. To the point where, thanks to the right of freedom to worship, Todog was accepted as a religion. Three days before I got out, people were already gathering at rallies to hear the few words I’d taught.

We’re heroes, said Xuma.

We are.

Our people out there are organised; who do you think took our places?

No one, Xuma.

When we stepped out into freedom, a radio station immediately asked what message I’d like to give at that moment:

Todog olambolic Todog .

What does it mean?

We don’t usually translate. Either the words enter you or they don’t. Xuma understands me, don’t you Xuma?

Yes, Todog.

Some familiar faces, armed with banners and posters, were outside waiting for us. The familiar faces greeted us, revered us, idolised us and showed themselves to be faithful to Todog. I was impressed when they said there were ten thousand people waiting in Getúlio, wanting to hear my prayers.

Some familiar faces gave us white, tight-fitting clothes, just like everyone now wore.

We reached the gates of the farm in Getúlio and there were a lot of people jostling around. Some familiar faces inside the car showed me that the tax payments were up to date and the farm was legal.

Xamarei kodof pluicinai orlandopen rictimu asimbandueira pepinovic astrolov erguirochonte. Ritmos lacrimai rictyuliberius profteriobarto labaredasava perbuliam Todog .

Todog.

Todog morten Todog livus.

Todog.

Some even more familiar faces took us back. We drove through the crowd with the top down. They threw things at me. Underwear, bras, letters, posters, pieces of paper, confetti, streamers, guitars, bottles, plastic cups. I stood up and waved to the crowd. All of a sudden, a crazy Todog fundamentalist got up close to the car and shot me twice. They grabbed the man and he screamed, saying he was Todog.

I struggled between life and death. I fought with the help of the doctors and drugs, but I didn’t make it. At my funeral, Xuma said that Todog died with me. Even so, many people still say they follow Todog.

Princilimpimpotus todog todog todog and crickets and electrodes and a house in ruins and a blue dog and an orange cake and B Cops and Granny and I’m going to Paracambi if I don’t eat, I’ll go to Caju and Attorney General Brylcreem and Xuma and now the now. D-Day. The moment of truth. The bomb and its mushroom cloud of endorphins explode in my bayoneted body with the chemical of the angels. The warhead. And then, Rodrigo? What did you do with the after? Here where the clouds meet I always get a bigger shock than the ones I got in the asylum.

Where I am now all the dogs aren’t blue. They gave me a third pair of glasses, third eye. Third ear. A third arm. Third leg. A third hand. All in threes. Then they gave me two more penises. Two more noses. Another foot. Two more stomachs. My third life.

Three Hail Marys.

I had to get used to my new life and what’s worse is I still haven’t turned into a monster because of it.

I’m still the boy with the blue dog. A great big blue reflected now in the eyes of the boy who found my blue dog in the rubbish.

This book has a long, difficult history.

I received the manuscript of the first version of All Dogs are Blue in 2003, and was blown away when I read it. We weren’t able to invest in its publication at the time (the usual challenges of distributing and marketing first-time authors), but I got in touch with Rodrigo to let him know how much I’d liked the text; to discuss a partnership that would let us explore alternative publishing options; and to encourage him to send it along to other, bigger publishers, as it was one of the best manuscripts I’d ever laid hands on.

During that first conversation, I made a commitment to publish the book as soon we could afford it — something that would only come about five years later, thanks in part to a grant from Petrobras which enabled Rodrigo to work on the final version of his text, and us at 7Letras, his publisher, to produce an initial print run of 1,500 copies.

Over the years, we talked a few times on the phone (he never left the house) and I was struck by how lucidly and clearly he spoke about his condition — the schizophrenia, the medication, his paranoia, the hospitalisations — which only increased my admiration for his talent and his art.

Du‌ring the time we worked on the book, Rodrigo’s closest contact at 7Letras was with Valeska de Aguirre, who edited the text and became a sort of friend. The two spoke almost daily, always by phone, as well as exchanging extensive emails about Rodrigo’s other literary projects, which were to remain posthumous.