José Saramago - The Stone Raft

Pedro Orce greeted the man, Good afternoon, and the other replied, Good afternoon, both men noted a familiar pronunciation, a southern accent, that of Andalusia, to put it in a nutshell. But the man eating the stale bread found it highly suspicious to come across a man and a dog in these parts, remote from any habitation, and looking as if they had been dropped there by a flying saucer, as a precaution, and without trying to conceal it, he reached out for his stick, which had a metal tip and was lying on the ground. Pedro Orce observed this gesture and the tramp's uneasiness, he was probably afraid of the dog as it stood there watching him, its head lowered, without moving a muscle. Don't worry about the dog, it's quite gentle, well, not exactly gentle, but it won't attack unless it thinks it's in danger of being harmed. How can the dog tell when someone is going to harm it. Now that's a good question and I wish I knew the answer, but neither I nor my traveling companions have been able to discover the dog's breed or where it came from. I thought you were on your own and lived nearby, I'm traveling with some friends, we have a wagon and because of what's happened we set out along the road, and we've never left it. You're from Andalusia, I can tell from your accent. I'm from Orce in the province of Granada. I hail from Zufre in the province of Huelva. Pleased to meet you, The pleasure's mine. May I join you for a moment, Make yourself comfortable, but I'm afraid all I can offer you is some stale bread. Many thanks, but I've already eaten with my companions, Who are they, Two friends and their women, the two men and one of the women are Portuguese, the other woman is Galician, And how did you all meet up. Ah, that's a long story.

The other did not insist, saw that he should not, and said, You must be wondering how someone from the province of Huelva landed up here. In times like these, you rarely find people where you would expect to find them. I come from Zufire and have relatives living there unless they've gone elsewhere, but when the rumor spread that Spain was about to break away from France, I decided to go and see for myself. Not Spain, the Iberian peninsula. Yes, of course. And it wasn't from France that the peninsula broke away but from Europe, that may sound like the same thing but there's a difference. I don't understand these niceties, I only wanted to go and see for myself. And what did you see. Nothing, I reached the Pyrenees and saw only the sea. That was all we saw. There was no France and there was no Europe, now in my opinion, something that isn't there is the same as something that never was and I had wasted my time traveling league after league in search of something that didn't exist. Well, that's where you're wrong. Wrong in what way. Before the peninsula separated from Europe, Europe did exist, naturally there was a frontier, and you had to cross from one side to the other, the Spanish went, the Portuguese went, foreigners came, did you never see tourists in your region. Sometimes, but there was nothing to see there. They were tourists coming from Europe, But if I never saw Europe when I was living in Zufre, and if I've now left Zufre and I still haven't seen Europe, what's the difference. You haven't been to the moon either, yet it exists. But I can see it, at the moment it's off course, but I can still see it. What's your name. Roque Lozano at your service. I am Pedro Orce, Are you named after the place where you were born. I wasn't born in Orce, I was born in Venta Micena, which is nearby. That reminds me, when I began my journey I met two Portuguese who were traveling to Orce. Perhaps they are the same two. I'd really like to know. Come with me and you'll find out. If that's an invitation, I'll gladly accept it, I've been traveling alone for such a long time. Get up slowly in case the dog thinks you're going to attack me, I'll hand you your stick. Roque Lozano put his bundle on his back and pulled the donkey's rein, off they went, the dog at Pedro Orce's side, perhaps this is how it should always be, wherever there is a man there should be an animal with him, a parrot perched on his shoulder, a snake coiled around his wrist, a beetle on his lapel, a scorpion curled up, we might even say a louse in his hair, if this bug did not belong to that detested race of parasites, a tribe not tolerated even by insects, although they, poor creatures, are not to blame, for God willed them as they are.

Traveling at the same aimless pace, the wagon had penetrated the heart of Catalonia. Business flourished, it was a brilliant idea to have launched themselves into this branch of commerce. Fewer people are to be seen on the roads now, which means that, although the peninsula is still rotating, people are returning to their normal habits and pursuits, if that is the right word to describe their former habits and pursuits. Villages are no longer deserted, although one cannot be sure that all the houses are now lived in by their previous occupants, some men are now with other women, some women with other men, and their children are thrown together. This is the inevitable outcome of all great wars and migrations. That very morning José Anaiçounced that they must come to a decision about the group's future, since there no longer appeared to be any danger of collisions or clashes. On the most likely or at least most plausible hypothesis, in his opinion, the peninsula would go on rotating on the same spot, which would not inconvenience people's everyday existence, and although it might no longer be possible to know where the various cardinal points are, what does it matter, for there's no law that says that we cannot live without the north. But now they had seen the Pyrenees, and what a wonderful thrill they had experienced, looking down at the sea from such a height, Just like being in an airplane, Maria Guavaira had exclaimed, only to be corrected by the experienced José Anaiço, There's no comparison, no one feels dizzy looking out the window of an airplane after all, but up here, unless we hold on with all our might, we'd be tempted to throw ourselves into the sea. Sooner or later, said José Anaiço, referring to the warning he had given that morning, we shall have to decide about our future, unless we mean to spend the rest of our lives on the road. Joaquim Sassa agreed but the women were reluctant to express any opinion, they suspect there may be some ulterior motive in this sudden haste, only Pedro Orce timidly reminded them that the earth was still trembling, and if this was not a sign that the journey had not reached its end, then perhaps they could explain to him why they had made it in the first place. At another time, the wisdom of this argument, however speculative, would have made some impression, but one must bear in mind that the wounds of the soul are deep, otherwise they would not be of the soul, but now whatever Pedro Orce says, he is suspected of some ulterior motive, this is the thought one can read in the eyes of José Anaiço as he says, Immediately after dinner, each person will say what he thinks ought to be done, whether we should return home or carry on, and Joana Carda simply asked, Which home.

Now here comes Pedro Orce bringing another man with him. From this distance he looks old, just as well, we have quite enough problems of cohabitation already. The man is leading a donkey harnessed with packsaddle and load, as old-fashioned a donkey as you have ever seen, but this one is an unusual silvery color, were it called Platero, it would, like the scraggly Rocinante, be worthy of its name. Pedro Orce comes to a halt on the invisible line that marks the boundary of the encampment, he must observe the formalities of presenting and introducing the visitor, something that must always be done on the other side of the threshold, these are rules we do not have to learn, the historic man within us observes them, one day we tried to enter the castle without permission and we were taught a lesson. Pedro Orce says emphatically, I came across this fellow countryman and I've brought him along to have a bowl of soup with us, there is obvious exaggeration in the term fellow countryman, but it is understandable at a time like this, a Portuguese from Minho and one from Alentejo feel nostalgia for the same fatherland, even though five hundred kilometers had separated the one from the other, and now they are both six hundred kilometers from home.