Part 2 - Part 05

“Thanks man, I would love to hear this beast roar one more time… No, I haven’t eaten. I don’t eat, I drink,” he replied.

“All I have is a little bit of whiskey and a bottle of vodka,” I said.

“No… Not that shit man, come with me.”

He walked to the opposite side of the garage, through the stage door, down the big room and into the kitchen. He went to the back where the used frying oil was stored. He opened the cupboard, reached in the back and pulled out a glass gallon smeared with brown oil drippings all over it.

“That looks disgusting,” I said.

“It’s what’s inside that counts not outside. Give me your whiskey bottle,” he said.

I grabbed the whiskey bottle from the cupboard on the other side and handed it to him. There was very little whiskey left in it. He grabbed it, removed the lid and was about to dump the whiskey into the sink.

He looked at me and said, “Give me one of those water glasses.”

I gave him a large glass and he poured the whiskey into it.

He then reached into one of the top cupboards, pulled out a small funnel and placed it over the whiskey bottle. He unscrewed the lid from the gallon and poured a greenish brown liquid into the empty

whiskey bottle. When he was done he screwed the lid back on, raised the gallon up, looked at me and licked the brown grease drippings on the outside of the gallon.

I shivered when I saw that. He began to laugh and couldn’t stop.

“You should have seen your face man… It’s epoxy, brown epoxy, it’s not grease. We made it look like that in case we were caught bringing it here. We brought a truck load. I stashed it everywhere. There are several gallons behind the grease container.”

“You crazy bastard, you upset my stomach for nothing,” I said.

“Crazy maybe, but I’m not a bastard, I have a mother and father…” he said and suddenly showed me a sad face, but only for a moment. “This stuff will fix your stomach, get me a couple of glasses. Not those, bigger ones, the juice glasses further up.”

After I gave him the glasses he filled them three quarters full and handed me one. He then took a huge gulp, twisted his head in a vibrating motion and said, “That’s good medicine man, good for your soul.”

The liquid was clear but looked disgustingly greenish brown.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You can’t be Peter James if you don’t know what this is…” he said and added. “It’s 100% proof moonshine, 50% alcohol made right here in town by a red-neck. I despise the guy but I love his drink. The bastard refuses to sell it to me but sold it to Peter James, a complete stranger,” he said and took another gulp.

“In my tradition we toast before we drink and then sip our drink,” I said, raised my glass and clinked it against his.

“And whose tradition is that? Come on spit it out. The outer space man’s tradition? I bet you’d never heard of moonshine until you got here. Am I right?”

“Look, stop that. I’m from here just like you and the rest of us. I don’t know what Peter and you were smoking and hallucinating but I’m from here and not from outer space. There are no aliens. Peter invented them to cover his criminal activities. He was my father, he got my mother pregnant when they were going to high school and instead of marrying her and looking after us, he took off and got involved with criminals. He told me everything before he died and asked me to make amends to those he had conned. How do you think I found you? And those who he told you were aliens were detectives catching up to him. He told people he was losing his mind which was an excuse for him to leave you and for you to believe he didn’t know what he was doing. Did you know he had a wife here and never told her about this base?”

“Stop, stop, I don’t believe you man. But, come and think of it, why would the aliens go through the trouble of bringing him here in the woods and leaving him to die instead of pushing him into the volcano in Algeria? Perhaps you’re right. I’ll have to think about that… I found him in the woods half dead you know and brought him here to the base,” he replied.

“He never told me about that,” I said.

“Well, it’s true. I told him to buy the base. It was put on auction but never sold. I even got him a buyer on the black market to buy his diamonds. Come to think of it, I should have wondered how a prospector could get cut diamonds from the earth. He told me he found them on the ground and I believed him. God damn it, you Europeans robbed us blind and we Indians still trust you! Why did I trust that lying Irishman… I don’t know. Why should I trust you?”

“Look, my father was a good man; he just got caught in a bad situation and was trying to do his best to survive and protect those he cared for, like you, me, his wife, his friends. And yes, you should never trust anyone. People will do things, unbelievable things, when they are desperate and in big trouble.”

“Well, I suppose his alien story was better than telling us he was a criminal… I’m sure if he pissed me off I would have turned him in,” he said, finished his drink and began to laugh uncontrollably. I

didn’t laugh; it would have been disrespectful. In situations like this some people laugh and some cry.

When he had composed himself he said, “Aren’t you going to drink and tell me about that tradition of yours?”

“Well, my mother was Macedonian, God bless her soul. She was a tormented soul. When her father found out she was pregnant he wanted to kill her and the bastard who did it, so Peter had no choice but to leave. He wasn’t going to kill them but Peter didn’t know that. Then, when Peter became involved with the criminals he couldn’t come back, not without risking everyone’s lives. So, I basically grew up with my grandparents. They named me Riki but my mother registered me as Peter James Jr. She loved him very much you know, and died a sad woman.”

“What about the tradition?”

“Well, like I said, I was very much involved in the Macedonian tradition with my grandparents, including the ceremonial tradition of toasting and sipping the drink which they called rakia. That’s about it… I lived a normal boring life, that is until my father found me and loaded me with his burden.”

“Do you speak Macedonian?”

“A little, but my grandfather taught me his people’s history which was a tragic affair, something like your history.”

“Get out of here! Like my history? You’ve got to be joking! Do you know who I am? I’m the son of the chief of my tribe, we are a proud people, a peaceful people, a trusting people… And look what happened to us because of you Europeans.”

“Then we have something on common!” I said and poured him another drink.

I picked up my glass, we clinked glasses and I said, “To you and your people.”

“To our differences which makes us unique,” he said.

He then said, “I’ve never heard of Macedonia or its people before. You’ll have to tell me more.”

“I too know very little about your people and the only reason I know is because my grandfather mentioned the similarities between your people and his. He said we shared a similar fate.”

I took a drink from the concoction and found it okay. It was strong but had a smooth aromatic and spicy taste, not at all like rakia.

“Wow,” I said. “It’s really good.

“I think I’ll call it rakia, that way no one will know what we’re talking about. So, you like the aroma, well that’s my formula. We bought the moonshine and I added the spices myself later.”

“So, it’s the spices that give it the disgusting colour?” I asked.

“It’s not disgusting, it’s beautiful, you just need to get used to it.”

“I can’t drink too much of this stuff on an empty stomach. I need to eat something,” I said.

“Here, I’ll make something for you,” he replied and went to the fridge to have a look. He found a raw steak thawing. He took it out, added salt and some spices and massaged it with his dirty hands. He then cut it into thin slices, added olive oil and some lemon. He grabbed a couple of forks and said, “Eat!”

I looked at him and he looked at me. He picked up a fork, put a piece in his mouth and began to chew. I did the same. It tasted quite good and the raw meat was chewy but tender.

I put my fork down, grabbed an onion from the fridge, cut it into quarter inch slices, put it on the plate, poured olive oil on it and took a bite. He tried it too.

“I knew something was missing,” he said. “Now it’s perfect.”

“Our tribes to the north ate raw meat. Some still do. But it wasn’t meat like this; it was healthy meat from nature. We ate it raw when it was available but also had to preserve it for when it wasn’t. You Europeans don’t know what you’re missing. Watching us eat raw meat disgusts you. You think we’re animals, uncivilized and uncultured. But we’re the only ones who care about the planet and try to preserve it, live with it and not live to destroy it like you do because you think you’re better than us…

Ah, why am I even telling you this… You wouldn’t understand even if your life depended on it. Ironically your life does depend on it; maybe not yours but your children’s lives. You depleted your own homeland and then came here to deplete ours. You have no idea how to live. What will happen to your children when you deplete everything on this planet and there’s no more to deplete, eh?”

I looked at him get more and more frustrated and listened. What was I to say? I knew he was right.

After he composed himself he said, “Tell me, how come you are so strong, eh?”

“Because I’m Macedonian!” I replied.

“C’mon, stop bullshitting me.”

“Okay then, I don’t know! I got mad, that’s why I guess?”

“You lifted a two-hundred pound man over your head and tossed him like a rag doll.”

I scratched my head and made a face. Then I lifted my arms up.

“Don’t fret kid, I’m only messing with you but I’m grateful you did. I’m sure he would have broken a lot of my bones. I’ve heard of mothers lifting cars to save their children but I’m nothing to you, so I was wondering why you did it, that’s all.”

I didn’t say anything. He picked up the bottle, his fork and his glass and walked up to the big table. I picked up my glass, fork and plate with the meat and onions and followed him.

He looked around and said, “This crazy place still looks the same, when did you get here?”

“No more than a few weeks ago.”

“Where did you come from?”

“From a small town in the valley in BC.”

“I guess you can’t tell me eh? You have relatives there you want to protect? Brothers and sisters, perhaps?”

“No, just cousins, I’m an only child. My mother never married.”

“That’s smart of you protecting your family. Are you a criminal too?”

“No not that I know of, but we’re all criminals of some sort or another. You accused me of raping your country so that makes me a criminal I guess.”

He started laughing out loud and said, “You Europeans are all the same, you find ways to make the victim look guilty, but I like you. Let’s get drunk now and we’ll talk more later.”

“Do you have a place to stay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I have a place under the big bridge just out of town. I sleep under it… it keeps the rain and snow off me.”

“Well, if you want, you can stay here. There’s plenty of space…” I said.

“And plenty of booze. Thanks man. You’re a credit to your father, that bastard.”

I filled his glass again and gave it to him.

“What? None for you? C’mon man…” he said,

“I’ll pour some in my glass but I won’t drink it. This is strong stuff and I don’t know how much I can drink before I get sick.”

“Yeah, keep fooling yourself that way...” he replied.

“You said you found Peter in the woods and saved his life?” I asked.

“Yeah, I was hunting up there on the mountain northeast from here and found him lying on the ground half frozen. I lit a fire and warmed him but he couldn’t walk so I carried him down. He asked me where I was taking him. When I said into town he refused to go any further. I put him down near the road where the river is and went looking for wood to make a fire. I found this hole in the rocks. I figured it would be a good place to rest and light a fire. I didn’t know this place was a base. Inside the hole, at the end of it there was a door. The key was in it so I unlocked it and forced it open. It was a big room under a huge pile of rocks. We looked around and found a fireplace. We lit a fire and spent the night there. Peter wanted to stay there but had no provisions. He told me he had money and asked me to go into town and buy him things. I had to walk for a day and some before I got into town. The first thing I did was buy that truck you’re driving. It was real piece of junk before I fixed it. I used it to bring his provisions and he kept giving me money. That’s how I started drinking and sleeping under the bridge. On top of that he used to come with me to the bar and kept paying my tab. He liked to go to the library and that’s how we discovered the place he was staying in was a military base.

When we went to the municipal building to check it out we found out it was for sale. They told us if we paid the back taxes the place could be ours for a dollar. Peter agreed to it but wanted it re-zoned as a park or fish sanctuary, or something like that I don’t remember exactly what. When we looked at the price Peter said he didn’t have that kind of cash but had some assets he could sell. What kind of assets I asked and he said the kind you sell on the black market. I had no idea what kind of assets he had so I said I would help him if

he told me more. That’s when he said he was from Algeria and showed me a handful of cut diamonds. I got him a buyer; he got his money, opened a bank account, paid for the property by cheque and got his keys.

When I asked him how he had gotten here from Algeria, that’s when the bastard lied to me and told me the alien story, which I swallowed like a fool.

After that I helped him establish himself here and I was his best buddy until he got involved with the Olivia chick and began distancing himself from me. One day I left and never came back,” he concluded and downed the rest of the drink.

I helped him to the next room and sat him on a bench. He stunk, he needed a bath. He slumped over and fell asleep. I turned him on his side, went upstairs, got a pillow and a cover. I put the pillow under his head and covered him up.

I then went back to the big table, took the meat to the kitchen put it in the big frying pan, fried it until the onions were caramelized, added four raw eggs to it, stirred it well and fried it until the eggs were cooked. Now that was some meal, and Oscar was right I did finish drinking my new-found drink...

Deep down I felt terrible for deceiving Oscar about mine and Peter’s past but I had to do it to protect us. But from whom?! I don’t know. I had to re-evaluate that option, but not today. I was feeling mighty tipsy and had to lie down and fast.

It was dark outside when I woke up with a whopping headache. Oscar was still sleeping.

I went and drank some water and went back to sleep on the bench opposite Oscar. I didn’t want to abandon him.

The next thing I remember was hearing a lot of yelling and swearing. I ran over to the bench where Oscar was sleeping and found him on the floor wrestling to uncover himself. I pulled the sheet off him and asked him what was happening. He said he had

had nightmare in which a crow was trying to peck his eyes out. He didn’t know what it meant but he got the feeling something wasn’t right at home.

“I’ve sinned. I’ve sinned too many times,” he said and put his head on the floor.

I didn’t know what to say. I had just met the man and knew nothing about him. I was just like the others to him. Maybe I was. Maybe we were all bastards like he said… I don’t know. All I knew was that I was feeling uncomfortable seeing him like that.

Suddenly he got up on his knees and said, “I’m sorry man. I don’t know what gets into me sometimes… It might be the booze… It causes depression and funny stuff you know. You must think I’m some sort of weirdo. Maybe I am.”

I didn’t say anything. I just sat there looking at him with a worried look on my face.

“You’re a good man,” he said. “If it was anybody else they would have thrown me out by now like the bum that I am.”

“Okay then, since we got all that out of our system, how about you take a bath because you stink and I’ll give you some of my clothes to wear. Ditch that rotten stuff you call clothes.”

“Thanks man I needed a bath a long time ago but the river is too cold at this time of year… and I’ll need a pair of shoes to go with those clothes… and maybe later we can go to a barber shop. We both need a haircut and I need a shave… But I have no money,” he said.

“Okay, and after that we can go fishing,” I said.

“What does that mean? Fishing! To catch fish?” he asked.

“Yes!” I replied.

He got up and I walked him upstairs to the nearest room. He took off everything he was wearing while I tested the shower to make sure it worked, he dumped everything on the floor.

“I forgot, we don’t have bathtubs here,” I yelled.

“A shower will do just fine,” he replied.

I went outside the room to the closet and found a bar of soap and a plastic bag. I gave him the soap and then put his clothes in the plastic bag. They smelled sour. His socks and shoes were full of holes and stunk even worse.

When he was done I threw him a large towel to dry and wrap himself in.

“Thanks man, I feel like I’m reborn… Where are those clothes you promised me?”

“I don’t have any here. They’re in the room next to the office in the garage.”

“I don’t want to wear army clothing… man,” he protested.

“No, I have civilian clothing up there, you just have to choose what you want.”

“Wow, I get to choose?”

“Yes. But tell me why don’t you want to wear army clothing?”

“Because I was in the army and the army screwed me and I don’t want to talk about it.”

When we arrived in the room I opened the closet and he looked around.

“There’s a nice dark suit here; if it fits me can I have it?”

“Yes, you can have it but you’ll also need casual clothing to wear, pick something.”

I gave him a pair of underwear, an undershirt and socks. He tried the suit and it fit.

He looked at himself in the mirror and said, “I look like a werewolf in a suit.”

He took it off and found a shirt, sweater and pants and a pair of brown shoes. He again looked in the mirror and said, “Now I look like a werewolf dressed like Peewee Herman but without a bowtie.”

I cracked up laughing, I couldn’t help myself. He cracked up laughing too.

We skipped breakfast and went straight to the barbershop in town. We both got a haircut and a shave. He couldn’t believe how good he looked. When we got back he tried the suit again and said, “I could be the prime minister of Canada. I sure look it in this suit. Are you sure I can have it?”

“Yes,” I said. “But you have to do me a favour.”

“Well, here we go… What favour?” he asked.

“You should go home and see your family.”

Suddenly he felt uncomfortable and overwhelmed with sadness and anxiety.

“Well?” I asked, pressing the issue and added. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine with me, but you have to go.”

He changed back to the other clothing and said, “Let’s go fishing.”

It was past noon and we’d had no breakfast and no lunch so I said, “Should we eat first?”

“No,” he said. “We’ll bring the bottle of… what did you call it?”

“Rakia.”

“Yes, rakia and drink that for lunch.”

We grabbed a couple of jackets, went to the kitchen and he grabbed the half full bottle of rakia. I grabbed half a loaf of bread and we went outside to dig for worms.

“It’s too cold for worms at this time of year, man,” he said. “We’ll use the bread. That’s why you brought the bread, for bait, right?”

“Okay,” I said. “Now let’s go and get the fishing gear.”

“Are we driving there?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “We’ll be fishing outside in the quarry.”

“Oh, yes, I remember now, there are fish in the quarry, Peter and I put them there.”

We walked over quietly and found a nice spot. He said a few words in his native language and baited both hooks with bread. He compressed it first, put it on the hook and dropped it gently into the water so as not to dislodge it.

We both sat down on the cold rocks and he poured us a drink. After we toasted I casually reached into the bag of bread, pulled out a slice and began to chew it, one bite with every sip.

He was about to say something but was distracted by the fishing rod bending. He jumped to his feet and gently reeled it in. The bread had fallen off.

He looked at me and said, “Don’t be discouraged. At least we know they’re biting.”

He baited the hook again and dropped it in. Moments later the same rod moved again. He reeled it in and there was a fish about a foot long. He took the bag with the bread, took all the bread out and

handed it to me. He then stuffed the fish in the bag, put it between a couple of rocks and said, “Once it got the taste for bread it went for it.”

He baited both hooks again and slowly lowered them into the water.

I set a couple of slices of bread on a rock and, one by one, ate the rest. He poured us more rakia. The bottle was empty.

The rods kept moving but no fish. He suggested we move over. I agreed. My butt was getting stone cold sitting on the rock.

Moments after we moved we caught another fish.

“Let’s go back inside and cook them,” I said. “I’m starving.” He agreed.

When we got to the kitchen he showed me how to clean them and fillet them. I already knew how to clean fish but didn’t know how to fillet them.

I preferred to have my fish fried but Oscar insisted that we eat them raw. It was tough for me but I did eat it raw. The fish was crunchy but had no fishy taste. I kept adding salt to it which helped me stomach it better. Rakia tasted terrible with raw fish. All night I felt like I hadn’t eaten and wondered what Vos would have thought if he saw us eating raw fish.

After we ate we had a fire in the big fireplace. I was feeling a bit cold and didn’t want to get sick. Oscar enjoyed watching the fire and was quiet most of the evening.

At some point I excused myself and went to bed. Oscar said he was going to spend the night by the fire, it reminded him of home. I brought a blanket for him and left.

Oscar goes home

The next morning when I got up I was very hungry. As soon as I got dressed I went to see how Oscar was doing. He was awake.

“Did you sleep okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember sleeping at all,” he said. “I lay here all night thinking about what you said.”

“And what was that?” I asked.

“About going home!” he replied. “I want to go home. Will you drive me? I want you to come with me.”

“Okay,” I said, “but we need to eat something first. I’ll fry some eggs, will you have some?”

“Yes, a couple for me. I don’t know how my stomach is going to react.”

I took four slices of bread, fried them in butter and then cooked four eggs and made two egg sandwiches.

I ate mine no problem but Oscar was having difficulty. I looked at the whiskey bottle. It was empty, we had emptied it yesterday.

Oscar saw me looking at it and said, “No more, not today, today I’m going home and want to be sober.”

Just as he said that he ran for the garbage can and threw up.

“I hate to be disrespectful but I’m sorry, I can’t eat solid foods, especially greasy foods. I’ll just eat some plain bread,” he said, threw the egg sandwich in the garbage and took a single slice of bread from the bag.

“Do you want to leave right away? I asked.

“Yes, please if possible.”

“How far is it to your place?”

“About a two hour drive.”

“What are you going to tell your people when we get there?”

“I don’t know. Any ideas?”

“How long have you been gone?”

“Ten years.”

“TEN YEARS?” I yelled out loud and my voice echoed in the big room.

“Yeah, man, I’m ashamed but…”

“Do you have anything to bring back home for your parents?”

“No?”

“Do you have any brothers and sisters?”

“Yes, one sister and a brother, both younger than me.”

“Do you have anything to bring them?”

“No! What’s with the interrogation… man?”

“I’m trying to figure out what we can do to make your return easier… How many people in your village?”

“About sixty to seventy. Why?”

“Here is what I think we should do. You get dressed in that black suit you like and take the clothes you’re wearing with you, also take the black pair of shoes and black socks that go with the suit and put them on. I will also give you a pile of money. You give everyone in the village one hundred dollars each. You give your mother, sister

and brother two hundred dollars each. Whatever is left you give to your father and apologize to your family for leaving. You don’t tell them where and how you got the money, except that you earned it working hard. What do you say?”

“Okay, if you think it’s going to work?”

“I don’t know if it’s going to work or not, but it would be a good gesture on your part to give your people something you think is of value. They may toss it back in your face if they are as proud as you say they are. If that happens then we’ll have to improvise.”

“Meaning what…?”

“How about doing some begging for forgiveness…”

And before I had a chance to finish what I was saying, he whacked me on the back and said, “Go get the money and my suit, I’ll wait here. I don’t want to puke all over the place.”

I went up to the safe and grabbed ten bundles of fifties ($ 10,000) and dropped them in the shoe box with the black shoes.

When I came back I said, “Before I forget, when you feel it’s the right time, you take your black suit and shoes off and give them to your father.”

“Meaning what? He doesn’t need a suit. It’s stupid!” he protested.

“Have you ever heard of the expression ‘he gave him his shirt off his back’? Well it’s a gesture of love and respect; it means you care for him more than for yourself or for your valuable suit. If he is as wise as you say, he will figure it out.”

He put the black socks on and then the black suit but without a tie. He then opened the shoe box and his jaw dropped.

He looked at me and said, “Oh, wow, I thought you were joking about the money. No way man, I’ll never be able to pay you back not with the $200 a month pogie I get from the government.”

“You don’t have to worry about paying me back, it’s a gift, a down payment for fixing the tank and that snowplow in the parking lot, which you promised me you would do?”

We went to the truck. I had forgotten we’d left it outside in the front parking lot which, until yesterday, I didn’t know existed, got on and drove up the mountain. It had snowed up there and it was treacherous.

I must have had white knuckles when Oscar said, “It looks like you’re not used to driving on bad roads in snow. You must be from the valley.”

I didn’t say anything.

About half an hour later we were on the main highway. It was well paved but also treacherous. Huge trucks were passing us by like we were standing still and spraying slush and salt. We slowly climbed down the mountain and when we reached about half way it stopped snowing and the sun came out.

We traveled a short time in the valley before we started climbing up another mountain. The road was dry here and we did well driving until Oscar pointed to a side road that was paved only part way. After that it was slow driving and watching out for potholes.

We finally arrived at his village. I was exhausted from driving non-stop for two hours and twenty minutes on treacherous roads.

Before we stopped I asked Oscar why the road to the village wasn’t paved. He said because the reservation was considered Indian land and if we wanted it paved we would have to pay. But, outside of the small monthly government cheques we receive, we have no money.

We parked the truck at the bottom of the village just as we reached the clearing out of the woods. A lot of children and their dogs ran down to greet us but the children turned back because their mother’s yelled at them. We were greeted by dogs. At least they were friendly and didn’t bark at us.

Oscar reached in and grabbed the shoebox with the money.

“Not now,” I said. “I’ll tell you when.”

He put it back in the truck.

“These are my people, my family, man, why am I so nervous?” he asked.

“It’s always like that with family,” I said.

An older broken down woman started coming down towards us. “She’s my mother,” he said. “She looks so old.”

She came down, looked at him and then at me. She went back to him and said something in her native language.

“What did she say? I asked.

“The eyes never lie,” he replied.

She grabbed him by his face, looked into his eyes and began to cry.

The scene was too sad and uncomfortable for me so I turned around, went back into the truck and got the bag with his clothes. By the time I came back more women had come down and all I understood from what they were saying was the word “Oscar”.

I was left behind alone. I was all alone… Alone again… All I could think of was my own parents and what they were feeling at that moment. Did they think I had abandoned them? Did they think I had been kidnapped? No matter what… there was only one outcome… I am sure they were heartbroken…

A good looking young woman in her early twenties came down and greeted me. She said her name was… which translated to “Little Pony” in English but she said I could call get Jean. She said she was Oscar’s first cousin and Oscar had sent her down to get me. I hesitated and felt that I didn’t belong there. I didn’t want to go, I

resisted. She grabbed my hand and pulled me up. When we arrived everyone turned and looked at me.

Oscar said, “This is Riki my Macedonian friend. Does anyone know where Macedonia is?”

At that very moment his father walked in with a bunch of older man and said. “I know where it is. I was there when I was a soldier with the Canadian forces during World War II.”

Oscar jumped to his feet and just froze. I tried to escape the grip of his beautiful cousin but she refused to let me go. Oscar’s father looked at her and she let go. I extended my hand to him and he took it.

“It is nice to meet you Sir,” I said.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you too. I see you brought my son back,” he said.

By now Oscar had recovered from his initial shock and went and hugged his father and shook the hands of the other men. They all welcomed him back.

His father looked at me, and for some reason I raised my eyebrows. He then said to him, “Welcome home son.”

The moment the men looked away Jean grabbed my hand again. I looked at her and she looked at me and said, “What…! Oscar told me to look after you.”

More people came into the room. “Is this everyone in the village?” asked Oscar.

“Yes, my son, we are all here,” answered his mother.

Oscar stood up and said, “It’s nice to see you all again and learn that you are all well. It’s nice to see our village grow with so many young ones. I am sorry I have been away from my family and friends for so long but, from now on, I promise you I will come and

visit more often. I want to thank my friend Riki for driving me here. I also want to thank him for the advice he has given me. I have accumulated some small wealth in my travels and when I asked my friend how to invest it, he suggested I bring it home to my family and friends… There is no better investment than that, he told me. So, if you are not too proud to take it, I have some money to give you. It’s a gift to you from me, if you want it.”

He looked around, smiled and said, “Come on up and get it, you children too… But you have to give it to your parents and tell them to save it for you.”

He then motioned for me to go get the box. I dragged his cousin with me, who refused to let go. We went and got the shoebox from the car. I gave it to her and she gave it to Oscar.

When he opened it there was a gasp from the women.

He took two fifties out and gave them to the first child and told her to give it to her parents. He said he had worked hard for it and to make sure they put it to good use. He did that with every child. He then gave money to the women. Each came over, took it and gave him a hug and a blessing. He then got up and gave each of the men their money. He didn’t give any to his own family. The last one he gave money to was his cousin who he told to let go of me if she wanted the money. She took the money and left. Everyone else also left. He then gave his little brother and sister two hundred each and gave his mother five hundred. He put the lid on the shoebox and gave it to his father. His father took it, opened it and put the lid back on.

Oscar then took off his suit, put on his casual clothes, gave the suit to his father and said, “This is for you.”

His father didn’t know what to say. He looked at me. I nodded.

He said, “Thank you son,” and left the room.

I looked at Oscar. He was shaking. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Just nerves, I’ll be okay,” he said.

His father came back and told me, “We are preparing a traditional meal for you; we want you to be our guest.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Then he asked Oscar to go with him.

The moment they stepped out his mother gave me a hug, kissed me on the cheek and said, “Thank you for bringing my son home.”

At the same moment Jean walked in and said, “Oscar sent me to keep you company.”

I felt uneasy and looked at Oscar’s mother. She looked at me and shook her head giving me her approval, for what I don’t know. These were people of a different culture and I had no idea what was appropriate and inappropriate. I didn’t want to embarrass Oscar by doing something wrong.

I grabbed Jean by the hand, went outside where we could be seen and told her that I felt uncomfortable holding her hand.

“I know how you feel, I’m not from a different planet you know, but I too am trying to do the right thing according to my tradition. Holding a stranger’s hand and grinning like an idiot is not exactly my cup of tea either…”

I looked at her with a surprised look. She was a kitten on the outside and a ferocious tiger on the inside.

“Oh, I get it, just because I’m Indian you thought I was coming on to you… Is that right? How typical of you Europeans…” she said angrily.

“You sound just like Oscar…” I said and gave her a tap on the shoulder.

“What’s that for?” she snapped.

“For being honest with me,” I said.

“We are poor, we have nothing to give, the only things we have are our integrity and our dignity. I am not going to compromise them by being dishonest,” she snapped.

“Will you sit with me at dinner?” I asked her.

“No, women sit by themselves opposite the men, in my tradition,” she snapped.

“I guess I have a lot to learn,” I said.

“What’s the deal with you and my cousin?” she asked and added. “Are you some kind of rich guy trying to buy our affection with your money? Did you give him the money? Where would an Indian get that kind of money and a five-hundred dollar suit?” she said angrily.

“I don’t know how to answer that question; you’ll have to take it up with your cousin,” I said and added. “Things may not always be what they seem, but sometimes they are what they are.

She got very upset and stormed off across the road.

Oscar’s mother was watching us and came to see me. I looked sad and disappointed.

“She is just like Oscar. Oscar was like that when he was her age. Stubborn as a mule... Don’t mind her, she is a good girl, she only wants what’s best for us.”

I sat on the front steps of Oscar’s house with his mother. She could see I was upset but didn’t know what to say. What could she say? She had no idea what my troubles were and obviously she could see that whatever Jean said had upset me.

A little later Jean stormed back, stopped in front of me and with tears in her eyes said out loud, “I’m sorry!” and stormed away again.

I was about to jump up and run after her when I felt a hand grab my wrist. “Let her go,” she said.

Oscar’s mother had work to do but couldn’t go. She didn’t want to leave me alone.

“Go,” I said, “you have things to do. I’ll manage…”

Jean must have realized why Oscar’s mother was still sitting there with me so she came over and told her to go, she would look after me.

She sat beside me but I refused to look at her. She knew nothing about me and yet she did to me exactly what racist Europeans do to her people.

“I, I, I am sorry. What I said was inappropriate. I spoke with Oscar. He told me everything. Now he won’t talk to me because of my foolishness. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say…” she said and started sobbing.

I grabbed her by her face and kissed her hard on the mouth. She was shocked. I was ready for the slap on the face. I deserved it. She could see that I wanted her to hit me. She didn’t. I don’t know why I kissed her.

To my surprise she grabbed my face and kissed me right back hard on the mouth. There was laughter on the other side of the street and a bunch of women started clapping their hands.

We both stood up. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“We’re going to have a wedding,” she said.

“Who’s getting married?” I asked.

“You and me!” she said sarcastically.

I started laughing and she did too. I stuck out my hand and she grabbed it and shook it.

“Friends?” I asked.

“Friends!” she replied then grabbed my hand and took me for a tour of the village.

“What’s it like for a white man to live in this country?” she asked.

“Just like every other man, we all have our troubles; they’re just different kinds of troubles.”

“I guess you’re right, we are all born to suffer,” she said.

Just as we reached the top of the village, a young girl ran up and told us to come back down.

“This is my youngest sister,” she said. “The food must be ready. You’re lucky; yesterday my brother shot a big deer during the hunt. We are having fresh venison for dinner.”

“Are we going to eat it raw?” I asked.

Both sisters began to laugh which made me look silly.

“Don’t tell me, Oscar made you eat raw meat,” she said with a curious look on her face.

“And raw fish too,” I said.

“He likes to be a traditionalist with strangers. No, the venison will be slow boiled in a stew with spices and potatoes. That’s how my brother likes it. I hope you get to meet him… I’m sure he won’t like you…” she said and added. “After the women tell him what you did…”

“What did I do?” I asked.

“You know… kissed me…”

After that Jean’s sister began to make fun of us yelling, “Jean is going to marry Riki…”

“See what you’ve done?” I said.

When we arrived we found everyone sitting in two circles, one made up exclusively of women and the other of men. They were all sitting on the ground with legs crossed. Oscar was sitting beside his father and there was an empty space for me to sit on the other side beside his father. Oscar’s little brother was sitting beside Oscar. Jean sat with the women.

Everyone was watching me as I sat down. I felt nervous.

Oscar’s father said, “Don’t be intimidated by the looks, we don’t get many visitors here and everyone is anxious to get to know you, especially Jean who has taken a liking to you.”

Everyone laughed. The women began to clap their hands again. Jean ignored them.

When everyone was seated Oscar’s father said something in their language, I assume it was a prayer. Oscar’s mother and Jean got up and went to the big cauldron. Jean handed out the spoons first and then went back, picked up a bowl and presented it to Oscar’s mother who scooped a ladle full of stew from the cauldron and poured it into the bowl. She served the first bowl to Oscar’s father and the second to her brother, the hunter who had killed the deer. After that more women got up and began to serve everyone from oldest to youngest. We began to eat as soon as we got our bowl.

Everyone was eating quietly. There were no conversations taking place. I was sure because of me. A puffy cloud got in front of the sun which was about to set and a cold wind blew down from up the mountain. I felt a chill all over my body.

As each person finished eating they put their bowl on the grass in front of them. When everyone had set their bowl down Oscar’s

father again said something in their native language and announced to everyone that the men were going inside.

I tried to stand up but my legs were locked. They were numb and wouldn’t hold me up. Oscar’s father gave me his hand and I managed to stand up. There was laughter coming from the younger men my age. Jean rushed to my rescue and grabbed me by my arm.

Oscar came over and grabbed me by my other arm and said, “What happened to you man?”

A few steps later I recovered but Jean insisted on helping me. We walked into this big room which could have been a classroom but without desks, a meeting hall without chairs, a recreational centre without… The important thing was that there was a fireplace and Oscar’s father was starting a fire.

After the fire started burning he said, “You sit on that side and pointed to the left side of the fireplace. He sat on the right side and added more wood to the fire. The rest of the men sat in a semicircle. Oscar sat in the middle of the semicircle. Jean sat to my right and held onto me. Oscar’s father looked at her but she refused to go. More women arrived after they put their children to bed and sat behind the men.

“This is highly unusual,” said Oscar’s father, “but let us begin.” I think he said that because women weren’t allowed to sit with the men.

“He looked at me and said, “On behalf of my people first let me welcome you to our village. Second, I want to thank you for bringing my son home to us, we are grateful for that. And third, I want to thank you for the money and for the suit you gave us, Oscar told me all about it.”

I looked at Oscar. He nodded.

“We are very grateful for the money. We can finally buy our own truck to go to town and get our own supplies instead of paying hefty fees to have them delivered. We know you gave us about ten

thousand dollars. That would be five years worth of savings for a working man.

We just want to know why you gave us this money.”

There was silence in the room. I looked around. Everyone was looking at me anxiously waiting to hear what I had to say. What was I going to say? Tell them the truth? What was the truth? Tell them more lies? They were smart people. They were decent people.

I waited too long to answer. Jean piped up and said, “I knew it. It’s not your money…”

Oscar’s father jumped in and said, “Be quiet, let the man speak.”