“Oba told me that whenever she can, her friend goes round to the orphanage to see him. The child should now be over a year old. I’d just like to know what name they gave him. You never know, maybe one day his real father would like to know . . .”
“The whole thing was so unpleasant, it’s best forgotten about.” Generosa raised her hands to hush her daughter. “Also, it’s none of your business.”
Ismael stretched from the small crib to the bookshelf; he wobbled, fell back, and started to bawl. His little shouts mixed with others that came from the street. Generosa took him in her arms and peeked out the window.
“They’re at it again.”
“What’s going on?” Julia asked.
“Your father and Gustavo.”
“I’ll go.”
When Julia got downstairs, she met up with Oba, who had also gone out to have a look from the door of the shop.
“How did this start, Oba?”
The girl pointed to the group, and Julia recognized Gustavo and his brother, Dimas.
“They came into the shop to buy alcohol to celebrate Christmas, and your father wouldn’t serve them without a police permit. They said that they could now buy the same products as whites, and your father agreed, but not alcohol, because Christmas was still days away, and if they drank, they wouldn’t go to work. Your father kicked them out, and they went to get Gustavo, as the representative of the Neighbors Council.”
A dozen men surrounded Emilio, who, out of control, shouted, “We are equal for what interests you, right? Well, if we are equal, why won’t I be able to vote? I have the same right as you! The same? I have more right than some of you! I’ve lived here longer than many of you coming from the continent, claiming that this is your land! And now only Guineans with Spanish nationality can vote. To give up that nationality! We’ve all gone crazy!”
Julia sighed. A referendum had been announced to vote on a self-governing Guinea. Things were moving quickly. If the forecasts were right, in less than six years, the old colony would go from a Spanish province to having a self-governing regime before independence was granted. The United Nations had lobbied for definitive independence to be granted to countries under colonial control. Spain would have no choice but to comply. Julia shook her head. She had lived on the island for years, but the situation was confusing. Up to a short time ago, the colonial forces had detained pro-independence figures like Gustavo and anyone else who fought against the Spanish regime, even sending them to Black Beach. Now independence was a certainty. Who could understand it?
And what was more, though the change should satisfy the natives, there were clashes about how to achieve it. It was becoming routine to encounter heated arguments everywhere. On the one side were the independence gradualists, in favor of accepting self-government organized and imposed by and from Spain prior to independence, as they appreciated the many ties that joined the two countries after so many years of colonial government. On the other side were the independence radicals, the majority Fang from the African continent, much greater in number, who wanted automatic and joint independence of both the continental part and the island. The second group criticized the first for accepting the Spanish regime, and the first group criticized the second for hastily pushing self-government.
To complicate things further, many Bubis like Gustavo wanted a separate independence for the island of Fernando Po. Their main complaint was that the budgetary distribution was not proportional to each province’s actual contribution. In fact, the greater part of the budget income came from the island, but an obvious trend was seen where all the improvements and investments were for Río Muni, the continental province. And finally, there were those who agreed with Emilio, vehemently defending that the natives would be better off continuing as a Spanish province. Julia was convinced that someone like Dimas, who had worked so hard to have a privileged life, would be among that group, but he would never admit to it in order to avoid a head-on confrontation with his brother.
Emilio continued to explain his reasoning in a cantankerous tone. “I promise you one thing, Gustavo! From my post on the Neighbors Council, I intend to keep working until I achieve a vote for men like me. I’m not going quietly!”
“You’d blindly vote no so that you could keep your privileges,” Gustavo attacked.
“But you would also vote no to self-government!” Emilio threw his hands in the air.
“Your no would be a sign of loyalty to Spain. My no would attest to my wish for an independence separate from Río Muni. If the whites vote, there would be more confusion.”
In a flash, the group of people around them grew considerably. The initial murmurs became irate shouts both in favor and against Gustavo’s words.
“Well, I’ll be voting yes!” shouted a tall young man with a shaved head and a wiry body. “And that’s what we should all do, to make them leave us alone once and for all . . .”
“You must be Fang, right?” replied another, smaller man. “You talk like a Fang . . .”
“Well, I’m Bubi and I’ll also be voting yes,” intervened a third, his arm bandaged.
“Then you’re not a true Bubi!” Gustavo reproached him loudly. “No Bubi would ever allow those from the continent to take our wealth!”
“Better than remaining slaves to the whites,” the offended party retorted.
“You don’t know what you are saying!” Gustavo leaned over him threateningly. “They have brainwashed you!”
“We Fang are now to blame for everything!” the tall young man scoffed. “They have also exploited us. How much timber and coffee have they taken from the continent with our sweat?” He shouted, “You Bubis want to keep supporting those in power!”
“We Bubis have been fighting for decades, suffering reprisals for speaking out,” Gustavo interrupted. “Do you want to know how many letters the tribal chiefs and villages have sent to the colonial authorities, to Spain, and to the UN? And what have we got in return? Exile, persecution, and jail.” He opened his shirt to show him his scars. “Do you really think that I want to support the ones who did this to me?”
“You’re crazy,” the young Fang replied. “Spain will never accept the existence of two states. We have to join forces.” There was a murmur of approval. “That’s what the whites want, to see us fight among ourselves.”
Dimas grabbed his brother by the arm when he saw him clench his fists. Emilio let out a sarcastic cackle.
“It’s what I told you, Dimas,” he said. “This has turned into a chicken coop.”
A chicken coop with too many cocks, thought Julia.
“So this is how you intend to take over your own destiny?” Emilio continued.
“Leave it, Dad,” Julia intervened. “Get into the house.” She turned to Gustavo. “Do as you must, Gustavo, but leave my father in peace. Leave us all in peace.”
“That’s what you lot have to do!” shouted the young Fang. “Get out! Go home to your country for good!”