“Better he’s with you than with Gregorio. And Julia and Manuel?”
“I don’t see them much.” Jacobo looked down. He had no intention of offering further explanations about the happy family. Julia only had eyes for her little Ismael. “Any other questions?”
“How is the harvest?”
“The dryers are going at full belt. You’ve just arrived for the worst part!” Yes, until January, life on the plantation would be frenetic, thought Kilian, but he loved that time of the year. Soon the rains would stop and the dry season and its suffocating heat would begin. He felt strong and well prepared. “Although, I do have a piece of good news. The beans are now sifted automatically. You don’t have to go from one end to the other with paddles.”
“That is good news.”
There was silence for a few seconds. Kilian picked up a tie and put it round his neck. Jacobo sat up in his chair.
“Why are you getting so dressed up?” he asked.
“I’m going to Obsay. Today is the baptism of José’s grandson.”
“And you need to dress up?” He frowned.
Kilian bristled and finished tying the knot.
“A christening is a christening, here and anywhere else. Would you like to come?”
“I have better plans in the city.” Jacobo stood and walked toward the door. “By the way, I almost forgot! There is someone there who has missed you a lot. I suppose she’s hoping that you have brought her some present from Spain.”
“Sade . . .” Kilian sighed. How long since he had thought about her? He would have understood if, during his long holidays, Sade would also have forgotten about him, but his brother’s words made it clear that this was not the case.
“She’s getting more beautiful every day.” Jacobo clicked his tongue. “Luckily you’re my brother, because if you weren’t . . .”
Kilian shot him a look of warning.
“Don’t worry, lad, it’s a joke.” He winked. “I’m sure that, after so many months of abstinence, you’ll take care of her with pleasure. Unless you have met some Spanish girl.” He gave Kilian a sideways look, but gave it up for lost. “Anyway, if you’ve come back, it’s because no girl has set her cap on you.”
Kilian stayed silent. He would rather let his brother believe what he wanted if it meant ending that conversation. He had not the slightest intention of wasting his time talking to him about his few and insipid romantic flings or speculating about a possible reunion with Sade, which he did not want in the least. At that moment, he had something infinitely more important to do. He opened the jar of brilliantine, took a small amount between his fingers, and combed his hair back. He looked at himself for a final time in the mirror and went out after his brother.
José was happy to see his friend again. Either that or the palm wine led to the continuous hugs he gave Kilian.
The party was in full swing when he arrived in the Obsay yard. There were many people singing and dancing to the beat of the drums. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes: the men in long trousers and white shirts and the women in long dresses and colorful headdresses, although some had chosen to wear a European-type dress to the knee, tailored at the waist. Kilian remembered that they dressed up like that only when they were going to spend the afternoon walking around Santa Isabel, but this time they had preferred to be with Mosi.
José hugged him again and lowered his voice.
“I really have missed you, white man.”
“I missed you too, ?sé, mi frend.” Kilian said it in all seriousness, although he could not take the smile off his face. “I always arrive in time for one of your parties!”
“In this life, everything must be celebrated. We’re here today, and tomorrow . . . with the spirits!”
“And where was he baptized? Don’t tell me that Father Rafael came all the way up here!” Things were certainly changing, but Kilian was sure that the priest had not given up guiding the faithful along the right path, something that did not actually run parallel to their customs and traditions.
“Father Rafael celebrated a very beautiful ceremony in the village of Zaragoza. We have fulfilled our obligations with your church.” José winked. “And we didn’t take off our shoes until we crossed the main yard.”
Kilian let out a loud snort. He looked around. The shouts carried words in Bubi and Pidgin English. He still did not understand Bubi, but he understood the Nigerians’ dialect as easily as his own from Pasolobino. Several men raised their glasses to him in welcome. Others, among them Waldo, Nelson, and Ekon, came over and greeted him with slaps on the back. As with Simón, he also found Waldo older. Nelson had put on weight, making his jowls even bigger. And Ekon, who now spoke Spanish almost fluently, sported a gray or two in his curly hair, although his dimples helped him retain his youthful demeanor.
A short, round woman who introduced herself as Lialia, Ekon’s wife, went over to her husband and dragged him up to dance, making everyone laugh. Kilian suppressed his surprise when he realized that it was the first time he had seen the woman that Ekon had shared with Umaru. A fleeting thought brought him back to that awful night. What kind of life would Umaru be leading in his homeland? It was not that Kilian cared much; after all, if it were not for José, Umaru would probably have killed him. Still, Kilian’s regret made him impossible to forget.
Waldo offered him a small bowl of alcohol, and Kilian took a sip. The liquid burned his insides. The music of the drums and the high-pitched songs of the women resounded in his chest. It really was a true celebration of life. There was no holy water, nor a paschal candle, nor oils to anoint the newborn to free him from original sin and welcome him into the Holy Church. But there was fresh sweat, hot blood, tense muscles, and penetrating sounds with which to honor the majesty of existence.
“As if nothing has changed in hundreds of years . . . ,” murmured Kilian, completely captivated.
José heard the comment. “Ah, mi frend! Here all days seem as if nothing has changed, but the truth is nothing is the same.” He placed his hand on Kilian’s shoulder. “And now I have another grandchild, blood of my blood. Is that not a change?”
“Now you are more grandfatherly!”
José laughed heartily.
“By the way, where are the parents? I’d like to congratulate them.”
It happened again. She raised her eyes to him, and the world stopped and the songs fell silent.
This time it was for more than an instant. Her big bright eyes did not go through him like two lances. They settled on his, and he understood that she was pleased to see him again.
She was sitting down and holding a beautiful and chubby baby in her arms. Her immaculate wide-strapped white dress highlighted her smooth caramel skin. A few meters away, Mosi toasted and danced with everyone, but out of the corner of his eye, he watched his wife, who was paying a lot of attention to the massa.
Kilian lowered his eyes and gazed at the child.