Part 2 - Part 06

“Jean is right, it’s not my money. It was my father’s. I inherited it from him. How he got it, I don’t know and I don’t want to know. It’s mine now and I can do with it as I please. All my life I have been poor but I never needed money. We did fine without money. My family gave me all the support I needed.

I also had a good teacher, my grandfather, and I was a good student. He taught me many things. One of the things he taught me was that family is very important. Unity in the family is the most important thing in life. It gives you strength and peace. You have people who love you, care for you and help you when you need help.

I don’t know if my grandfather was right or wrong but that’s what he taught me.

Another thing he taught me was that we are all the same, rich or poor, we are people and one day we all die.

Many of us argue about things which at the moment may seem important but in the long-term are a waste of time. They make us feel angry at one another but accomplish very little if anything. We spend our entire lives being angry at someone or something. The things we argue about, in the scheme of things, don’t really matter because they are usually not important but tend to split us apart.

Many people spend their entire lives pursuing wealth while neglecting subtle things like their fellow man and even their own families. And then one day when they are rich they die, usually alone. I could never understand why people spent their entire lives trying to get richer and richer. What is the point of all that wealth? You can’t take it with you when you die?

My grandfather taught me there are two rules by which we live. One is the pursuit of justice, decency and right and wrong. We apply this rule by being honest and truthful. The other rule we apply is the pursuit of interests and most often we pursue interests with deceit. We will lie and cheat in order to get what we want.

The poor are usually taught to be decent and honest.

But from what my grandfather taught me, many times in life the two roles collide and cause friction between us. We are often confused by each other’s actions which cause us to loathe one another.

When I was given this wealth I didn’t want it. At the same time I didn’t want to squander it or give it to someone who didn’t deserve it. That kind of wealth doesn’t come easily. If not my father then someone else had to work very hard to earn it. I had to respect that. I lived without a father for most of my life. I didn’t get to know him until recently, during his dying days. I think he was a good man because he tried to make amends to those he had deceived.

When I met Oscar, the answer came to me. My value system told me to invest the money in people, your people. I didn’t know any other people who had suffered as much as my people. I couldn’t help my people, they are scattered all over the world but I could help your people.

There is no mystery to it. I know if I kept the money chances are that it would have corrupted me, just like it did my father, and I would be a disappointment to my grandfather who invested years of his life to bring me up properly in his view.

This is how it is and I don’t know what else I can tell you,” I said and stopped talking.

There was silence. Everyone kept staring at me.

Oscar’s father broke the silence and said, “Thank you for sharing that with us, it has given us a lot to think about. But I’m curious, what happened to your people and how does that relate to us?”

Everyone’s eyes were on me again. Answering this question should be easy in comparison to answering to the earlier question, I thought.

“We, from what my grandfather told me, both of our countries, were occupied by imperialists whose primary aim was to rob us of our wealth. The same imperialists occupied both of our countries. They did it so that they could exploit us and pursue their interests. They occupied your country directly and my grandfather’s country through proxies. They drove you off your lands and pushed you onto reservations. They drove my grandfather’s people right out of their country. My grandfather’s people now roam the world as permanent refugees. The invaders took everything from them, their homes, their lands, their dignity and their future as Macedonians. Now it’s a matter of time before all these Macedonians are assimilated. It may take a few generations but they will all be assimilated and there will be no Macedonians.

And, if you aren’t careful, the same thing could happen to you. They may not drive you out but they certainly will try to assimilate you. You see, you already stand in the way of progress and because you own the land they can’t develop it or exploit it in the way they want to. This is your land, you love your land and you will not stand for it being exploited. Maybe not all of you love your land. Maybe there are some who will want to become rich and sell off their heritage. There will be friction between those who want to sell your land and those who want to preserve it. That friction will be exploited and you will find yourselves at odds with each other.

This is what happened to my grandfather’s people who ended up in a civil war. Those who loved their land and wanted to preserve it began to fight against those who wanted to sell the lands and

become rich. Those who wanted to preserve the lands lost the fight and were either killed or driven out of their homes.

The moment you pick up a gun and spill blood, no matter what your reasons, you are doomed. I don’t know how much more I can tell you,” I said and stopped talking.

There was silence but no one was looking at me. They were all looking at the ground.

“Thank you again for your explanation, you have given us a lot to think about, but you know what? We can sit here all night and talk and by tomorrow morning we will still have things to talk about. So if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go to bed. You also must be tired and need your rest.”

And with those words Oscar’s father and everyone else left the big room, went outside and disappeared into the dark. The only ones who remained were Oscar, myself and Jean.

Oscar picked up a couple of logs, tossed them into the fire and said, “Oh man, I didn’t know you were such a philosopher?”

I didn’t know what to say so I looked at Jean. She looked at me and said, “You mean such a bull-shit-er?”

Oh, c’mon Jean, why must you be so cynical? He’s my friend, why must you insult him?” he asked, turned to me and said. “Jean here wants to be the next village chief and rain fire on you whites.”

She got upset and said, “What would rather have me be like you? Drinking myself to death and sleeping under a bridge?”

“How did you know about that?” snapped Oscar with a raspy voice.

“People talk you know, people talk.”

Oscar got upset and yelled at her to get out of the room or else.

She ran off and disappeared. Oscar ran behind her and locked the door.

I asked him why he was locking the door.

“There are bears out here and they come down during the night. You don’t want one of them coming in here.”

He paused for a moment and said, “If she knows, then everyone knows. I’m so ashamed… I need to leave. We need to leave first thing in the morning before anyone is up.”

“Oscar, we’re not going to leave. No one said anything to you so far and no one is going to say anything to you tomorrow. We will leave tomorrow, if that’s what you want but not as bandits, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “That Jean is such a bitch!”

“And who does she remind you of?” I asked.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to rub it in.”

“Your people have accepted you for who you are. They have shown you respect and you must not take that for granted.”

“You’re right man, now shut up and go to sleep.”

It was nice and warm in the big room but I wasn’t able to sleep. I kept going over the things that I had said and the lies that I had spread. I pretended to be honest and righteous but I was no better than the people I loathed. If there was a hell I figured I would be going to it. Among all the people I know only Jean was honest but we were punishing her for it. She was right, I was the biggest bull-shit-er of them all and I hated myself for it. I spent the entire night thinking about what I had said.

There was a knock at the door. I sat up. The fire was burning. I figured Oscar had been feeding it with logs all night. He probably hadn’t sleep at all either.

I opened the door. It was Jean. She looked at me and said, “Good morning, I’m frying eggs this morning. Would you like some?”

Without thinking and without saying good morning I said, “Yes, please.”

She went away and I closed the door. It was cold outside.

I went over to see how Oscar was doing. He had his back turned to me but I could see he was shivering.

“Oscar, what’s the matter? Why are you shivering? Are you cold?” I asked.

“No man, I have the shakes. I need a drink, I’m feeling terrible,” he replied.

I looked around in all the cupboards but couldn’t find any. I didn’t hear Jean come in. She startled me when she spoke. She asked me what I was looking for. When I told her I figured she would be very upset but she put the two plates on the floor and ran out. About a minute later she came back with a small bottle of whiskey and a glass. She handed them to me and went and locked the door. The bottle hadn’t been opened. I opened it, poured some whisky in the glass and gave it to Oscar. He drank it in one gulp and asked for more. I gave him the bottle and a glass. He helped himself. He tried to give the bottle back to Jean but she said she didn’t want it. Oscar stashed it in his pocket and gave Jean the empty glass.

Jean pushed his plate with the eggs towards him but he said, “No thank you that will make me puke for sure.”

Jean took his plate of eggs and ate them. I looked at her.

“What? I’m not going to throw them out,” she protested.

I ate my eggs while watching Oscar slowly recover from his shakes.

There was a knock at the door. Jean opened it. A male voice yelled something. She came over and told me to go to the door.

I looked outside. There were three young men standing there. “How can I help you?” I asked.

The one in the middle spoke. I recognized him from the night before. He was Jean’s brother, the hunter who had killed the deer.

In a stern tone of voice he said, “What are your intentions towards my sister?”

“I have no intentions towards you sister,” I replied.

“After you befouled her you tell me you have no intentions? Come out here and say that!” he ordered.

Just as I was about to take a step out I heard Oscar yell, “NOOO!”

He ran past me and yelled at his cousin, “Are you crazy man, don’t fight him. If he gets mad he will kill you. I saw him beat up two guys twice your size at the same time. I saw him lift a two hundred pound guy over his head and toss him ten feet.” If Oscar hadn’t looked so serious nobody would have believed him. I looked at Oscar, he looked exhausted.

Jean grabbed me by my arm and pulled me back in. I shrugged my shoulders. “You beat up people too! Why doesn’t that surprise me!” she said with a disappointed tone of voice.

People started coming out of their houses and wondered what the commotion was. Jean went around and told everyone we were leaving. They all came out and said goodbye. Both of Oscar’s parents gave me a hug and invited me to come back.

Jean gave Oscar a hug and helped him get into the truck. She then came over to my side, looked at the people looking at us, looked at me and kissed me on the mouth.

“What was that for,” I asked.

“To show you that I’m not a heartless bitch,” she said, slammed the door of my truck shut and waved goodbye.

Back to the military base with Oscar

Just as we drove down past the clearing and into the forest Oscar took a long breath and a gulp of whiskey straight out of the bottle.

“We shouldn’t have come,” he said. “It was a mistake.” He then curled up into a semicircle and put his forehead on the dashboard.

I didn’t say anything.

Moments later he said, “My mother has aged. She has aged a lot. My father was cold to me… because I was cold to him… I’m ashamed of what I have become and I just couldn’t face him. Everything he told me is true. He was right about everything. I know that now but I didn’t listen, I wouldn’t listen, I refused to listen. I was going to change the world and I was going to show him. But look what I’ve done instead. I’ve brought shame to my family and myself.”

He paused for a moment to compose himself and said, “Jean is right you know, I am a bum. I’ve known Jean since she was a baby. I was her hero and look what happened. I left when she was ten or eleven years old. I abandoned her. She used to follow me around everywhere like a little puppy,” he laughed and then cried out loud. He took a long breath through his nose, sucking back the tears and exhaled through his mouth.

I drove down the hill quietly trying to avoid the potholes but once in a while I would hit one and watch Oscar’s head bounce off the dashboard. I didn’t know what to say, he was on his own. There is no denying that it was my meddling in his affairs that caused him this pain. I had to take some responsibility.

After a long silence I said, “I’m sorry for putting you through this. At least your people got to see you, especially your mother. Yesterday we planted some seeds. What they will yield, I don’t know. I don’t know if we did the right thing or not, only time will tell. But let me say this, I feel terrible for causing you so much pain and I am sorry.”

“What are you talking about man? You tried to do what you thought was right. You didn’t cause me this pain, I caused it myself. You listened to your grandfather and you are the better for it. Look at me, I listened to no one, except my own stupid head and look what it got me.”

“You’re a good person Oscar, don’t beat yourself up, there is no need.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, to begin with, you are accepting responsibility for your actions and it takes wisdom and a lot of guts to do that. Let me put it another way, you’re not blaming others, like your father, for example, for your troubles.”

“You’re right, man. I’m beyond that and you think I should excuse myself because of it? I don’t think so?”

“Well, you can beat yourself up until you are old and grey or you can pull yourself together and move on. If you want to make amends then help others avoid the mistakes you made.”

“You really think I can help others when I can’t even help myself?”

“It’s all up to you. If you don’t think you can do it then don’t do it. But let me ask you this; do you want to see your cousin Jean take the same path as you did? Imagine what will happen to a beautiful native girl roaming the bars and sleeping under bridges. That’s what’s going to happen if there is no one to show her the ropes, someone who has experienced life at its worst.”

I could hear him sob with his head between his knees as we arrived in the valley and took the main highway back to the base. I decided to shut up. There was nothing I could say or do which would ease his pain. He was folded over for a long time. I called his name several times, he didn’t answer. I grabbed him by the back of his coat collar and pulled him up. He was asleep. I rested his head on the seat. He slept all the way home. I parked the truck inside the garage and left him there. I noticed the whiskey bottle was empty. I

decided to let him sleep it off. He was too heavy for me to carry and take him to bed.

I hung around the garage for another hour. I was very tired myself and too nervous to do anything. I looked outside. It started snowing. I heard the truck door slam shut. It was Oscar.

“It’s a good thing we got back, you have no idea how bad the weather can get up here,” he said.

I didn’t say anything.

He walked over to the tank and said, “I guess I’d better get working on this baby.” He then slapped the long cannon resting on it.

“Oscar, do you know how to drive and operate the tank?”

“Yes, I can show you when I get it working.”

“Where did you learn?”

“I told you I was in the army. When I left home I joined the army. I spent six months training to repair all kinds of mobile machinery. I was the best mechanic on the base. I drove tanks from the depot to the garage and did preventive maintenance and repaired them when they broke down. This one was completely seized up that’s why the army left it here when it abandoned the base. I rebuilt its entire engine and got it working. Peter and I only drove it a couple of times just outside of here. We only fired it once. I was afraid the cannon might have developed micro fractures over time but it tested okay. There wasn’t much temperature fluctuation inside. It should be okay, the only thing it might need is new batteries.”

I was going to ask him why he had left the army but I didn’t want to open another wound, not yet, so I said, “Can we do this another time, perhaps tomorrow? I’m really tired. I didn’t sleep last night at all and the drive back was torture.”

“Okay, man. Let’s have a fire and a short snooze. If we sleep now we won’t be able to sleep during the night.”

“Do you feel like eating something?”

“No man, you know I can’t eat, but I will have a drink with you. Can you go and fill the bottle from the gallon while I start the fire?”

“Okay. But I need to eat something. I can’t drink on an empty stomach.”

“Bring some of those sausages you like and I’ll cook them for you in the fireplace.”

I brought back a full bottle of rakia, two juice glasses, a plate and four sausages. Oscar filled the glasses half full and handed me one.

“It’s too much, I can’t drink all that,” I said.

Just as I said that he clinked my glass and said, “To you! I’ll make a drinker out of you,” and laughed out loud. “Drink as much as you want, nobody is forcing you.”

“To our health,” I said, took a sip and sat down by the fire.

After he had a gulp of rakia he took the poker and stirred the fire. He then unearthed some unburned coals from the ashes and placed them on top of some burning sticks. He left them there until they were glowing red. He then used the poker to bury them in the ashes and placed one of the sausages on top.

I looked at him and said, “Is this how you’re going to cook my sausages?”

“Yes,” he said, “let the sausage simmer for a while then just blow off the ashes and eat it. That’s how we used to cook our meat in the old days when we didn’t want to eat it raw. This is how we cooked our eggs. We didn’t have pots and pans.”

A few minutes later the sausage began to sizzle and fat spurted all over the ashes. Oscar flipped it over with the poker and let it cook on the other side. By the time it was done, the sausage was covered in wet ash. Oscar flicked off the ashes and it landed on the floor. It was completely covered in sticky, wet, greasy ash.

I looked at it and he looked at me, saw the expression on my face and began to laugh out loud. He then picked up the sausage, went to the sink and ran some water over it and gave it to me. When I bit it he began to laugh again.

“Why did you introduce me to your people as Riki the Macedonian and not Peter the Irishman?” I asked.

He stopped laughing and said, “First, you hardly look Irish and second, as a Macedonian you aren’t part of our problem and I figured my people would accept you more easily. And while we’re on the subject what was all that about with your botched up morality lesson telling my people about good, bad and interests. Don’t you think we know all that? And do you think it was appropriate for a white man to lecture us on morality after what the whites did to us, man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I was put on the spot, I was very nervous just like you; I’m not good at public speaking.”

“It’s sad, you know, when people judge you without knowing you. Stereotyping you based on some false knowledge they have about you… that somehow because we are different from the Europeans we’re not people… that we are savages… And you, the real savages are somehow civilized and better than us. Ah, don’t get me started,” he said and stopped talking.

After a few minutes of silence he said, “We used to have a white teacher in our village, a nice young woman. She was sent there to civilize us savages. She was very kind and caring. We all liked her. I was in grade four when she began to teach us American history and told us that Christopher Columbus, a European, discovered America. Hell, I was very young, I didn’t know anything so when my mother asked me what I had learned that day I happily told her about

Columbus discovering America. I thought she would to be very happy with me but, instead, she began to cry and wouldn’t tell me why. I asked her why she was crying but she wouldn’t tell me. What the hell man, Columbus discovered America? How much salt must you rub in our wounds, man?” he asked and began to sob. Moments later he looked up at me and said, “Indians!? Indians!? What the hell? Of all the names you could have chosen you chose Indians? Did we come from India or something? Was that another lie to cover up the first lie? There was no one here when Columbus discovered America and we came from India? Is that it? What about the colony of Russians who lived here, here in British Columbia. Why they were not mentioned in your history? You historians didn’t know that or did they simply forget to mention it. Yes we traded with the Russians for years and some of their trading posts still exist here to this day.” When he was finished talking he looked down again.

I didn’t say anything. There was nothing I could touch on that didn’t have a sensitive spot.

Like he predicted, sip after sip I finished drinking the rakia. He took the next sausage and placed it over several sticks and let it simmer without touching the ashes.

I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is being covered with Oscar’s blanket that I had left there a couple of nights before and looking at Oscar’s back while he was staring at the roaring fire.

“The way you’re going you’ll burn all the firewood before winter arrives,” I said.

“I see you’re up. And always with the jokes... I cut this wood for Peter, you know. I’ll cut some more, there is plenty of dry wood up the hill.”

I got up and got myself some water to drink but after I drank it I felt sick and went and lay down again. The world all around me began to spin. It moved faster and faster, it was an unpleasant feeling which I could not shake. I closed my eyes. Oscar covered me with the blanket.

The next thing I remember is waking up with a bad headache. My body was stiff and I could hardly move. I looked around. Oscar wasn’t there. The big room up the stairs was brightly lit. I walked up the stairs, sat down at the big table and looked outside. It was a clear and bright day and the sun was up. I looked for Oscar but I couldn’t find him. I yelled and heard his voice.

“Up here in the garage.”

I went up and asked him what he was doing. He said he had looked over the tank and it looked fine and he was now charging the batteries. I asked him if he wanted to eat breakfast. He showed me the bottle Jean had given him. He’d filled it with rakia.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of slices of bread. I toasted them on top of the stove element and took them with me to the garage. My stomach was upset and I couldn’t tolerate eating anything.

Oscar took one of my slices and said, “I’ll try and cut down on drinking and if my stomach can tolerate it, I’ll start eating solid food. I’ll start with bread and maybe some plain boiled rice. Do we have any rice?”

“I don’t know. If we do it would be from five years ago. But we can take a drive into town, it’s a nice day.”

“Okay, it’ll take hours for the batteries to charge. We can use a diversion.”

We drove in silence. When we were about to pull into the plaza, Oscar said, “I didn’t know there was another way into town. I thought you were taking me somewhere else. This is a much shorter way.”

I didn’t say anything.

When we pulled into the parking lot Oscar asked me to stop the truck. There was an old European car he wanted to have a look at. A tow truck was about to hook it up and take it away.

He jumped out of the truck and said, “Isn’t she a beauty?”

The tow truck driver said, “If you say so. To me it’s a piece of junk. I don’t know what’s wrong with it and I have no idea how to fix it.”

Oscar asked him if he could have look at it. The man asked him if he was a mechanic. Oscar said he was a certified mechanic, certified by the army and he had worked on a vehicle exactly like it. It belonged to his commander’s wife. Oscar then asked the man if he had tools; a metric set. The man said he did have a metric set but not with him, he had the tools in his garage.

I shook my head “no”.

“We have an opportunity to help someone here. You told me that, only yesterday, now you say no?” complained Oscar.

We got in the truck and followed the tow truck to the service station. The driver introduced himself as Stan, the owner of the service station. He then said, “I bought the metric set some years ago and thought I’d wasted my money. I’ve never used it.”

Oscar grabbed the tool box, lifted the hood and began to work on the car. Stan looked at me and said, “It took me five minutes to open that hood.”

After watching Oscar work for a couple of minutes Stan said, “I didn’t catch your names.”

“This is Oscar and I’m Peter.”

“Are you Peter James, by any chance?”

“Yes, that’s me,” I said.

“So, you’re Olivia’s stepson, eh? She and Fred were here just yesterday and they couldn’t stop talking about you. Nice to meet you both...”

Oscar asked Stan to try starting the engine. It wouldn’t start, the battery was very low.

Oscar said, “Do you happen to have a 24 volt charger?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, “replied Stan. “No I don’t.”

“No problem,” said Oscar, “do you have two charged batteries?”

“Those I do have. I have four over there on the shelf and they’re all charged.”

Oscar took two batteries, one by one and set them side by side beside the car. He then connected them in series with a short jumper cable. After that he asked Stan to use his jumper cables and connect them to the car battery positive to positive and negative to negative. Sparks flew when the final connection was made. While Oscar was looking under the hood, Stan tried to start the engine. It cranked several times before it started. It was shaking and spewing black smoke but Oscar did something to it and it began to purr like a kitten. Oscar removed the cables and told Stan to keep it running for a while. Oscar then rubbed his hands with the towel hanging from Stan’s belt and said to me, “Let’s go.”

Stan offered to pay him but Oscar refused.

We got back in the truck and left. We picked up a bag of rice from the grocery store and returned to the base.

The batteries were still charging. “Why are you charging six batteries?” I asked.

“The tank requires three sets of two. Like that European car it needs 24 volts per set. The radio and lights operate from one set, the starter operates from a second set and the third set serves as backup. Modern tanks can take as many as eleven batteries,” he said.

“Why don’t we go and cook some rice and by the time we’re done the batteries will be charged,” I said and began to walk towards the kitchen.

“You do that,” he replied, “and bring me some rice. I’ll work on the tank.”

About twenty minutes later I heard this awful noise coming from above. I turned the stove off and ran up to the garage. The entire place was filled with white smoke and it stunk. I saw Oscar standing outside. He had opened the big garage door.

“Damn it, I forgot to turn on the ventilator fans,” he said. “But not to worry, I think the smoke will clear fast. The only thing that was wrong with the tank’s engine was the glow plugs were fouled up. Thank God the gas line wasn’t gummed up. It doesn’t usually happen with diesel engines but it could over time.”

As soon as the smoke disappeared Oscar started the tank engine again. It started right away but it was still bellowing thick white smoke. It was very loud.

“Coolant must have got into the chambers to cause the white smoke. The engine block could be cracked. Give it a minute and we’ll see,” he yelled as he revved the engine. About ten second later the white smoke had disappeared. Oscar jumped in the tank and slowly drove it outside, along the road and to the back underground parking lot, away from prying eyes.

When he came back he said, “The tracks need to be greased. I’ll do that another time.”

After he was done, he washed his hands and we went to eat. I looked at his rakia bottle, it was still full. He hadn’t touched it.

The rice was nicely cooked and I filled a couple of bowls. We each grabbed a bowl and a teaspoon and began to eat it a few grains at a time.

“This is good, what did you put in it?” Oscar asked.

“Just salt and butter, that’s it,” I replied.

It took us almost an hour to eat it but neither of us complained about stomach problems. When we were done, I tossed the dishes in the sink and we walked back to the tank.

“I can show you how to drive it but if we get caught we’ll be screwed for sure,” he said.

We looked at each other and decided it wasn’t worth it. Then just as we started walking back Oscar said, “Have you ever been inside a tank before?”

“I haven’t even seen one, never mind being inside one.”

“Come on,” he said and we both squeezed through a small hatch on the top. I started laughing.

“What now?” he asked.

“What happens if you’re too fat to fit through this?”

He gave me a dirty look and said, “Again with the jokes…”

We looked around; there was hardly any space to move inside. The tank was packed with equipment and ammunition for the cannon and the machine gun. There was a tiny window in front of the driver’s seat. I looked through it and could hardly see anything except the front of the tank.

Oscar said, “This is nothing, wait until it gets hot in here, these babies have no cooling system. You could boil in here on a hot day, never mind the noise of the engine and tracks (wheels) clicking and squealing. And God help you if you don’t have ear muffs when the cannon or the machine gun is fired.”

I looked around for a steering wheel. There wasn’t one. Oscar must have seen me looking and said, “What are you looking for?”

“A steering wheel.”

“See the two levers in front of the seat, they’re used to steer the tank. Some day I’ll show you how. Now let’s get out of here.”

After we got out of the tank Oscar closed the hatch and we climbed off. He caught me looking at the far side of the parking lot.

“Oh, c’mon man, you don’t want that thing fixed today, do you?” he asked.

“What are you talking about,” I said.

“Never mind,” he said as we both walked towards the yellow beast that looked like a cross between a tank, a bulldozer and a snowplow.

“The least you can do is tell me is what it is,” I said.

“Whatever your heart desires... It could be a snowplow, a bus, a tow truck, a tank without a cannon or simply a pile of junk. To me it’s a pile of junk. It burns more fuel than its worth.”

I didn’t say anything.

He looked at me and said, “I got it working before. I can get it working again. I’ll give it a try tomorrow if the weather isn’t too cold. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

We spent the rest of the day sitting quietly in front of the fireplace. We had no desire to eat, drink, or talk. I think we were overtired from the trip and the emotional rollercoaster.

The next morning I found Oscar in the garage going through the cabinets.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“Grease, long canisters of grease to lubricate the tank tracks,” he replied. “With my luck there won’t be any or I’ll find them in the last cabinet.”

“I’ll help you look but I don’t know what they look like.”

Just as I said that he yelled, “Here they are, I found them.”

He took out two and went straight to the fireplace and started a fire. He then stood the canisters in an upright position in front of the flames and said, “They are solid, grease dries over time and solidifies, I need the grease as a liquid so I can squirt it over the spokes.”

He had me lost. I didn’t say anything. I sat there and watched.

A few minutes later Oscar popped the lid of one of the canisters open and tried to pour the grease into a metal bucket that looked like a watering can to water flowers. Only a few drops came out. “It needs to be heated more,” he said.

A few minutes later he did the same and a blob of grease slid out and landed in the bucket. He did the same with the second canister. After that he placed the canisters on top of the flame and drained the rest of the liquid grease into the bucket and said, “I’m going to put the bucket in the fire to liquefy the grease, it will stink a bit.”

When he was done he screwed the lid on the bucket and we rushed outside to the tank. “We have to do this while the grease is still liquid,” he said as he lay on the ground and squirted grease at each spoke inside the tracks of the tank. When he was done he greased the cannon turret, the machine gun wheel and various other moving parts. After he was done he said, “We have to take her for a spin so that the grease will work itself in.”

“Are we going outside? What if somebody sees us?” I asked.

“No, we’re just going to run it inside the parking lot, and only for a short time.”

We got inside the tank. Oscar showed me how to start it. It started instantly and the engine made a growling sound. It was vibrating the entire tank. Oscar sat in the driver’s seat and showed me how the two levers operated the tank’s tracks giving it motion in various directions. He then asked me to take the driver’s seat and told me to be gentle with the controls. I made the tank move forward and turn right and left. I couldn’t see what was happening from the inside and that made me very nervous. Oscar also showed me how to operate the cannon turret and raise and lower the cannon. He then showed me how to open and close the cannon barrel.

He was about to show me how to load a live shell when I said, “No more. I’m really nervous and need to get out.”

He turned off the tank’s engine and we both got out. The underground parking lot was filled with smoke.

“Now if you think the tank is complicated, let’s go and have a look at that contraption over there.”

When I got closer I could see it had both tires and tracks. The tracks were padded with rubber.

Oscar saw me touching the track and said, “Those are rubber pads so that you can drive the beast on asphalt roads. You lower them when you get stuck on ice or snow and you raise them on dry road and let the rubber tires take over. This was a military emergency vehicle for rescuing soldiers in bad winter weather. Why it was left behind, I don’t know.”

Oscar stepped on top of the vehicle’s track on the right side in the back and opened a door. We both walked in. The inside was crowded with cabinets. It could sit twelve people and could accommodate about twenty four in total plus the driver. Oscar pushed a button but nothing happened. He then pulled a button out but again nothing happened.

“The batteries are completely dead,” he explained. “This vehicle takes two batteries, one serves as a backup.”

He opened one of the cabinets, pulled out a small toolbox and said, “This thing has everything, even a pot for making coffee.”

We went outside to the left of the vehicle and he flipped the side of the panel open. He then used one of the wrenches to remove the batteries. He gave me one to carry. It was very heavy. He picked up the other one and we took them to the garage. He connected them to the charger. He checked the batteries for fluid and said they were dry. He then went to the battery cabinet and pulled out a yellow plastic bottle marked distilled water and filled all the chambers in both batteries. He then connected the charger in parallel and said, “This is not how it’s usually done but I’ll put this thing to maximum charge and see what happens.”

Moment’s later the light on the charger turned green. “One or both of these batteries are dead,” he said and turned off the charger. He then connected one battery and again turned on the charger. It kept charging. He did the same with the other battery. It showed it to be fully charged. “This one is dead,” he declared and said. “I hope we have another one in the battery cabinet.”

I didn’t know what to do so I scratched my head and said, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Take a good look at this battery and go find a similar one in the battery cabinet.”

The big batteries were on the bottom and I spotted one immediately. I took it over to the charger and Oscar again connected the two in parallel. We waited for over five minutes, the batteries were still charging.

“When the light turns green we’ll further charge them one by one,” he said. “This is the only heavy duty charger we have. The others chargers will take too long.”

I watched the battery fluid bubble and droplets of water began to spurt out.

“That’s hydrogen gas you see bubbling out. I need to open the big door again. That stuff is explosive and I don’t want it building up in here,” he said and pushed the door open button.

It was a nice day outside; cool but the sun was shining.

“I haven’t gone for a walk in a long time,” I said.

“I haven’t either,” said Oscar. “I used to go hunting and sometimes I would walk for days. But now, since I started drinking, I’ve given up on everything. But I’m happy to say that this is the second day that I haven’t had a drink. Maybe I can beat this thing.”

“Why? Do you think you’re an alcoholic?” I asked.

“Maybe? I don’t know what that means,” he replied.

“Well, do you crave alcohol? Do you think about your next drink day and night? Do you drink alone and try to hide it?”

“No, I don’t think so. I only want to drink when people upset me. It’s a way of turning off things for me; a way to forget my troubles.”

“In my tradition we drink during happy occasions and never alone, although I do drink alone on occasion, just for the buzz, for the fun of it. I also drink when I’m bored. I often think of the good times I had with my friends and try to relive them through drinking. Does that make any sense?

I’ve seen how people look at me, people who don’t know anything about drinking. I guess it makes them feel better when they see people like us drinking.

This is true in Canada but not in Macedonia; people tend to be more understanding in Macedonia. And from what my grandfather tells me, drinking is an art in Macedonia. Rakia is respected and never abused. But I don’t completely believe that. People are people, everywhere.”

“Yeah man, your grandpa is one smart man. I wish I’d known him.”

“I heard that alcoholism is an illness. It may be for some but not for me. I drink in moderation. I have learned how much to drink and to drink with food. But sometimes I forget and if I drink too much it makes me sick,” I said.

“I don’t know, man, but people sure treat me like I’m an alcoholic.”

“Can you quit if you want to?” I asked.

“I don’t feel like drinking if I’m busy doing something I like or if I’m not feeling stressed. I guess I could quit if I had to,” he replied.

“Then you’re not an alcoholic,” I said.

“I like your style man, you can rationalize almost anything. Next you’re going to tell me shit is sugar.”

I started laughing and said, “Man, you create your own barriers, you build walls around yourself and you don’t know how to breach them.”

He swore at me and said, “I love you man, you’re the real deal. I’m so happy we found each other.”

We stood there in silence. It was cold outside but neither one of us wanted to leave.

After a while I said, “The batteries must be charged by now? What do you think?”

He looked at me and said, “Charged or not, let’s take them and see if we can start the beast.”

We didn’t have a single drop of rakia that day yet we both felt intoxicated. Our friendship was working out. How long it was going to last nobody knew.

We carried the batteries back and Oscar installed them in the beast. We both walked inside and he pushed the start button. The starter

activated and screamed and screamed and screamed but the engine refused to start.

“What the f…?” yelled Oscar. “It could be a number of things. I just hope it isn’t the fuel lines or the carburetor because that would be one bitch of a job.”

We got out of the beast and Oscar opened another panel and found the carburetor.

“How in God’s name did you learn about all these things?”

“I don’t know, I just have a knack for these things,” he said.

He tugged on a cable and declared it wasn’t the fuel line. He then pulled a glow plug and said, “I should have known, the glow plugs are gummed up. It’s the same problem as the tank. Get that wire brush out of the tool box and start scrubbing.”

After we scrubbed the plugs clean he tried starting the engine again and after a few cranks it started. He pumped the gas pedal until the engine stopped shaking.

“We’ll have to grease the tracks on this beast too, but maybe tomorrow. I don’t want to do any more work today,” he said.

The rest of the evening we spent trying to get the big television working. We found a room, a projection room, above the fireplace accessible from the coatroom. There we found a remote control for the TV and used it to turn it on. Oscar had installed the TV for Peter James. Unfortunately he couldn’t get it working and gave up.

“There is nothing good on TV anyway,” he said so we spent the evening staring at the flames in the fireplace.

The next day I got up first and found Oscar sleeping in front of the fireplace. He preferred to sleep on the floor. He was punishing himself for something but for what, I don’t know.

We both had boiled rice for breakfast and wondered how long we could do this before we started suffering from malnutrition.

After breakfast I asked Oscar if he wanted go into town and eat out. He said only if I was paying and after we greased the beast (snowplow).

He again lit a fire and we melted some more grease and greased the beast’s tracks and other moving parts. We then started the beast and Oscar showed me how to operate it. The beast had a steering wheel and drove like a truck. It was easy to operate.

The next day we went to the restaurant and were served by my favourite waitress, Gloria. The first thing she did was give me a kiss on the cheek which surprised Oscar.

“What the f…?” he asked. “She’s young enough to be your daughter.”

“Maybe she is,” I said. “So what?”

She smiled, looked at Oscar and said, “Who’s your friend?”