Wieslaw Mysliwski - A Treatise on Shelling Beans

“Socialism, capitalism, none of it’s worth a damn thing. You’re the power. The world stands on you. Though what are you? Well, what are you? You sit there inside our pants. Nice cozy place. A refuge, you might say. Many a time people would hide there themselves if they could. And there’s plenty to hide from, that’s the truth. Relax now, otherwise I won’t be able to piss.”

Pardon me, but it’s just us men talking. I’d never say that in front of a woman. I wanted to see his face but he never once looked up. Actually he seemed to lean over even further. True, I wouldn’t have recognized his face either. I didn’t even know where we were, where we were playing, who for, who all those people were, they were all wearing masks. On top of that, they’d brought us there under a tarpaulin and forbidden us to look out.

My hands started to hurt from holding on to the top of the partition, and my arms were getting tired. I let myself down, as carefully as before, first onto the toilet, then from there I stepped down quiet as anything to the floor. I wondered if I should flush the toilet, let him know someone was in the next stall. But my curiosity held me back. You know how hard it is to know even about yourself, what you’d do in a situation like that. I decided I’d just give a cough. So I coughed, but it didn’t have any effect. He even kind of raised his voice a little:

“You sure have a nice life. Your only worry is which pants leg to be in. And even when you get old and decrepit, no one’s going to throw you out. We should all be so lucky — I won’t say who the luck should come from. Me, you know, I can’t even be sure of tomorrow. I can’t be sure of anyone’s words. Everyone’s wearing a mask, how can you tell whose words are whose. Which ones mean one thing or another. Which ones are good wishes and which ones are judging you. You have to beware of every mask. What, are you looking at something? The future maybe? You don’t have eyes. You’d like to see me? It’s not worth the trouble. I’m standing at the toilet and because of you I can’t take a piss. Let me tell you, people have to do too much thinking. You don’t know everything, if only you did. There are times a person doesn’t feel like living. But what do you care about that. You only have one thing on your mind. Though supposedly it’s actually my mind. But truth be told, what does it mean to say ‘mine’? Eh? That it’s in my head? That doesn’t prove it’s mine. I mean, I’ve got you in my pants, but are you mine? I’ve never felt that way. More like I’m yours. I’m attached to you so there’s someone to carry you, move you here and there, take you out, hold you up, put you back and so on. Maybe it’d be better if we were separate. What do you think? If we were only occasionally together. Maybe if that were the case I’d want something more. Because being a man from morning till night isn’t as enjoyable as you think. Maybe for you. But what do you know. You squirt your load and you’re happy, whereas me, I have to do everything else, it all comes down to me. Not to mention that I have other responsibilities. Conferences, meetings, consultations, councils. Going from one to another, all day long, sometimes even into the night. To the point that I even forget you’re there, that’s what my life is like. A walking contradiction, you might say. Do you know what a walking contradiction is? The idea that you and I are one. That’s a load of baloney. If the new and better world is supposed to be that way too, I’m out of there. Or maybe I’m already long gone from it, what do you think? So what if I’m pissing? That’s no proof of existence. And as you see, without your say-so I can’t even do that. Just relax. Oh, you … I know what you’re after. I even understand you. But get real. With a mask? Do you know who might be behind the mask? You don’t. And neither do I. Do without for now. We’ll have to get through this ball somehow or other.”

In the end I flushed and left the stall. He came out right after me, but his mask was already on.

Did you just arrive in this world? Because everything surprises you. Yes it does. I’m not pinning anything on you. I’m just listening to what you say. I can even see that your hands are surprised by the beans. You could never shave with a straight razor. A straight razor needs a cool hand, one that’s indifferent to whatever’s going on inside you. Or someone would say something you weren’t expecting, and you’d cut yourself right away. You ever shaved with a straight razor? Never? You probably use an electric razor. You don’t shave at all? How is that possible? See, now it’s my turn to be surprised. But that’s something a person can still be surprised at. You don’t have any stubble, it’s true. I can see your face is smooth. Unless these days there’s some other way of dealing with beards. In that case you probably don’t even know what a straight razor is. I have one here, in the drawer. Somewhere I have a brush as well, and shaving cream, and aftershave lotion. I could give you a shave. It doesn’t matter that you don’t grow a beard, you’d still see how nice it is to shave with a straight razor. You can only learn that when it’s your own face. You’re scared? Of what? I don’t understand.

No, I don’t shave with a straight razor anymore. I couldn’t do it, not with these hands. But I did for many years, before I got the rheumatism. It’s really not that hard. I taught myself. When I was little I always used to watch my father shaving, and my grandfather, and Uncle Jan. Uncle Jan was always the most careful. He’d always shave twice. He’d shave, then soap up again and shave a second time. He used to say he had an angular face, and so to make sure he got all the hollows and bumps properly, he’d shave two times. His hands shook by that time, but he always used a straight razor. He’d sometimes cut himself, the blood would run down his face, especially under his Adam’s apple, but he’d always do it twice. And he shaved every morning. But when he decided to hang himself the next day, he shaved the previous evening. I remember like it was yesterday. No one thought twice about it, though he never shaved in the evening. That time too he cut himself and he had to stop the blood with alum.

It wasn’t because the razor was blunt, he sharpened it before every shave. First on a whetstone, then on a strop. After he sharpened it he’d check the blade. If it wasn’t good enough, he’d sharpen it some more. Do you know the best way to check if a razor’s sharp enough? You pull a hair out of your head, hold it between two fingers like this, and split it with the razor blade.

Hang on, I’ll get the razor and show you. It’s a good one, Swedish steel. The best ones were always Swedish. I brought it back from abroad. I keep it as a reminder that I used to shave with a straight razor, that my hands were that good. From time to time I take it out and run it over the strop, so it’s sharp. You need to choose the right razor for your face, that way you get the best shave. A hard beard likes soft steel, and vice versa. Plus, you need to know your own face. That way you don’t cut yourself. And the best way to get to know your face is by shaving with a straight razor. You’re never closer to your own face than when you shave that way. Believe me. With an electric razor you’re shaving, but you’re thinking about something else. You can’t do that with a straight razor. Even if you cut yourself and bleed, you know it’s your own face. You feel it more than when you just see it in the mirror.

Look here. I pull a hair from my head. Then I hold it up in the air, best of all against the light, and I draw the razor across it. Not quickly. Gently. If it’s too quick even a blunt razor will tug the hair away. But it won’t cut it. That was always how people checked. Now pull a hair out of your own head. We’ll try it with one of yours, you’ll see. What, you don’t want to give up a hair? It’s just one hair. Think how many come out when you brush your hair in the morning. How many fall out when you wash it. One hair won’t even hurt. If you’ll let me, I’ll pull one out. You’re even afraid of me pulling a single hair from your head? I don’t get it at all. You don’t trust me? Yet you came to get beans from me!