Bernardo Atxaga - Seven Houses in France

The roulette wheel was spinning too fast now and his father’s face kept passing again and again through his head. He fixed his attention on what was left on his plate. He picked up a piece of meat and tossed it onto the beach. The chimpanzees fought over it, making a terrific noise. Their cries filled the air, with those who got nothing protesting loudly.

‘I knew a soldier once, a legionnaire like myself,’ Van Thiegel went on. The roulette wheel had stopped unexpectedly and shown him this former colleague. ‘He was the bravest fellow I’ve ever known. People here in Yangambi say of me that I don’t know the meaning of fear, and I’ve heard the same said of Chrysostome, but him and me are mere chickens beside that man. He had a pretty impressive record with women too. People said he’d had every woman in the desert. Anyway, one day, he was found dead in his tent. Poisoned, they said, but I don’t know. No one ever knew for sure. We did find out the secret of his bravery and his sexual vigour, though. They examined his body for a wound or a snake bite, and discovered that he didn’t have two balls like most men, but four ! Anyway, I reckon the King has probably got three. I wouldn’t go so far as to say four, but three, yes. Oh yes.’

The chimpanzees had come closer again and were craning their necks. Van Thiegel threw them the plate containing the leftover meat.

‘Time to change drinks, gentlemen,’ said Livo when the chimpanzees’ screams had abated. ‘ Il faut changer, messieurs .’

He opened a bottle containing a green liquid and filled the small glasses.

‘The time for love approaches,’ said Donatien. ‘But if we carry on like this, we’ll be in no fit state for the girls.’

‘I’ll be all right,’ retorted Van Thiegel. ‘It would be the first time ever if I wasn’t. I may only have two balls — because I’m perfectly normal in that respect — but I have very strong legs. Of course, you need more than that. Either it all has to work or not at all.’

He paused, trying to understand what he had just said and failing.

‘How are things with Chrysostome and his girlfriend? Are they often at it?’ he asked.

‘It’s not a question of often,’ stammered Donatien. ‘They d-d-don’t do it at all. Ilsnelelelefonpa .’

Van Thiegel felt something moving in the centre of his body, but his tongue came to a dead halt. He wanted to say that the facts would prove him right in the end because, unlike Lalande Biran, he still believed Chrysostome was a poofter; but no sound came from his lips. He tried again. He wanted to ask Livo if he had ever seen this Madelaine from close to, and what kind of body she had.

Fortunately, Livo didn’t need words. The look in the Lieutenant’s eyes was enough.

‘Bamu is an extraordinary woman,’ he said. ‘She’s a veritable palm tree that girl.’

‘A palm tree! You’re the real poet of Yangambi, Livo. Better than the Captain,’ Van Thiegel wanted to say, but his tongue was still stiff. On the other hand, the movement in the centre of his body grew more intense, or, rather, unstiffened.

‘The palm tree is beautiful from the waist down,’ Livo went on, ‘and even more beautiful, if that were possible, from the waist up. Her hair isn’t curly, but wavy, and her eyes …’

He suddenly fell silent and stood looking out at the jungle. It seemed to him that the thousands and thousands of trees had fallen silent, the river had stopped flowing, and the group of chimpanzees on the beach had turned to stone. Then the pounding of a drum traversed the silence and could clearly be heard on the porch.

‘Who’s that drumming?’ cried Livo.

He clasped his hands to his head. Yes, the inhabitants of one of the mugini were holding a traditional funeral. Lalande Biran would be furious because he found the noise of drumming unbearable and had forbidden it in the area around Yangambi. Livo might have to despatch some askaris to silence the drummers, and he would have to be their guide, his least favourite job.

Then he breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, Lalande Biran wasn’t in Yangambi, but on board the Roi du Congo heading for the small island of Samanga. It would take them two or three days to take the statue of the Virgin there and come back, and by then, the funeral would be over.

His oimbé appeared. A glow of dark green marked with black lines surrounded his body.

He understood then what was wrong. Although he had only been pretending to drink from most of the bottles, he was nevertheless a little drunk. That was why his thoughts were so slow; that was why he had spouted all that nonsense about Bamu to Van Thiegel and Donatien.

He shouldn’t have told them about the young woman called Bamu, still less in the terms he had used, telling them that she was as beautiful as a palm tree. Saying such a thing to the Lieutenant was like showing a salami to a monkey.

Livo’s oimbé changed colour. Now it was purple. A sad idea had just occurred to him. He was a monkey too and had acted as he did, playing up to Van Thiegel, in the hope of receiving a box of biscuits. He wouldn’t get one though. Drunks tended to be mean, at least in Yangambi.

Donatien filled their glasses with a yellowish liquid.

‘They say the girl has very round ears,’ he said, ‘not that I’ve seen them, because the first time, I caught only the briefest of glimpses, and then the Captain forbade me from going anywhere near her mugini . I’m obviously not going to get my reward. And I would really like to have my emeralds back. When we open our club in Antwerp, I want to see them behind the bar, adorning my wife. The customers would appreciate that. One of my sisters always used to say that nowadays people want a bit of elegance, not the seedy bars of our parents’ day. And you know what, we could install Chrysostome’s girlfriend there too. If she’s so beautiful, she would be a real draw for the customers.’

‘Why don’t you just shut up?’Van Thiegel said. Gradually, the use of his tongue was returning. At least it was moving now, however clumsily. He looked at Livo. ‘If they don’t have sex, what do they do?’ he asked.

‘Observe, Lieutenant,’ Donatien broke in. He took Livo’s hands and gazed at him tenderly. Then he began to caress him, first one cheek, then the other, the left side of his chest, then the right. Very slowly and gently.

‘So our young girl is more of a virgin than the stone one they’ve just carried off to Samanga!’ said Van Thiegel, standing up. The chimpanzees immediately plunged off into the jungle. ‘Let’s go! The moment for love has arrived. Madelaine is calling me!’ he bawled.

The breeze brought with it the sound of drumming.

THE CANOE ALMOST capsized when Van Thiegel jumped into the prow, landing heavily on one side of the craft; fortunately, he managed, with another jump, to reposition himself in the middle, where Livo and Donatien were rowing; soon the canoe stopped rocking violently from side to side and they could get underway.

Van Thiegel stood up, beating his chest with his fists.

‘Madelaine, your monkey is here!’ he shrilled. And when they reached the other shore and the path, he held out his arms to the jungle, crying: ‘Madelaine! Madelaine! Madelaine!’

They could hear the drumming more clearly now, the continuous pounding of sticks on skin. Van Thiegel stopped. Where was that noise coming from? He cupped his hands round his ears so as to hear better.

He thought he could tell from which direction the sound was coming and, leaving the path, he set off into the bushes. He was walking with great determination, and when he came across a fallen tree, he leapt over it.