“And the days when the Trasmediterránea ship docked in Fernando Po—every three months, Son—they even closed all the stores!” Antón added. “Everybody came to the harbor to get news from Spain . . .”
“And did you know, Massa Kilian, when I was a boy, the whites had to go back to Spain every two years to survive tropical life. Otherwise, they died in a short time. It was rare for a man to endure many years. Now things are different.”
“Yes, José,” said Antón in a whisper. “We’ve seen a lot, you and I. Times have really changed since I first came here with Mariana!”
“And they will keep changing, Antón!” added José, shaking his head in resignation. “How they will change!”
On Saturday, Kilian put on a light-colored suit—which Simón had pressed—and a tie; he combed his hair back with brilliantine and looked in the mirror. He hardly recognized himself. The perfect gentleman! In Pasolobino, he had never had the chance to dress up like this. He had only the one dark suit for the main village festival and the weddings of some cousin or other.
At seven on the dot, Mateo, Jacobo, Marcial, Kilian, and Manuel left for the party.
On the way, Kilian joked with his brother. “I thought Saturdays were sacred. You are going without your shot of Anita Guau?”
“You have to be open to everything,” responded Jacobo. “It isn’t every day you get the chance to go to the casino. Besides, if it’s no fun, we’ll leave. The ?anga-?anga way we’re dressed means we will be successful tonight no matter where we go.”
The others chanted the phrase, laughing. Kilian joined in when he understood that the funny word, ?anga-?anga, meant elegant.
The casino was located in Punta Cristina, thirty meters above sea level. They went through the small entrance gate and into a courtyard with a tennis court and a swimming pool with two diving boards surrounded by black-and-white square tiles. From the terrace’s long arched balustrade, over which leaned a solitary palm tree against the horizon, the men could make out the whole of Santa Isabel’s bay, full of anchored boats and canoes.
Of the group, only Manuel had been in the casino before, so he led them directly to the music. They entered a building with laminated wood windows, then crossed a large room where people talked cheerfully and went out to a terrace circled by a softly lit white wall. In the middle of the terrace there was a dance floor surrounded by white marble tables. At that moment, the floor was empty. Men and women, whites and blacks, all looking very elegant as they greeted one another. On the stage sat an orchestra with THE NEW BLUE STAR written on the players’ music stands; Kilian thought the orchestra was fairly full in comparison to what he had seen before, and they played pleasant background music.
“After dinner, they will play dance music,” explained Manuel, raising his hand to greet some acquaintances. “I’m afraid tonight is going to be rather hectic. There are friends here I haven’t seen in a long time.”
“Don’t worry about us,” said Jacobo, taking a glass from a passing waiter. “For the moment, we will find a good spot and wait for them to come over and say hello to us.”
His friends winced at the sarcasm. It was no secret that Mateo, Marcial, Kilian, and Jacobo felt a little self-conscious. They were not used to frequenting places like the casino, where the crème de la crème of the city gathered. Despite their impeccable appearance, they could easily be found out as plantationers not sophisticated enough to rub shoulders with this crowd.
Jacobo signaled for his companions to follow him to a table near the door to the dining room, a good vantage point to observe both the mingling inside and out on the dance floor. Soon after, Kilian and Jacobo heard familiar voices: Emilio and Generosa, accompanied by two other married couples, plus Julia and two friends.
“Julia! Look who’s here!” Emilio beamed at the brothers. He turned to the girls. “Jacobo and Kilian with some friends . . . You could make a group!”
Various introductions and pleasantries were exchanged before Generosa and the other couples continued on their way. Julia and her friends sat down, and the brothers remained standing with Emilio. Out of the corner of his eye, Kilian noticed that Julia was a little tense and let her friends, Ascensión and Mercedes, lead the conversation. They wasted little time asking Marcial and Mateo about the plantation, then their childhoods in Spain. In turn, the girls shared what they did in Santa Isabel and boasted about being able to enjoy the sports facilities in the casino whenever they wanted.
Emilio, in high spirits because of the drink, stayed a while longer.
“So this is your first time at the center of the European upper class? And where do you normally go partying?” He waved his hand in the air and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell me, I can imagine. I was young once too . . .” He winked. “Anyway, as you can see, everyone mixes here, whites and blacks, Spaniards and foreigners, if and when we share a common denominator. Money.”
Jacobo and Kilian shot each other a telling glance: if this was the criteria, they certainly did not meet it.
One by one, Emilio pointed out various people while listing their professions—salesman, banker, civil servant, landowner, customs agent, vehicle importer, another salesman, lawyer, doctor, colonial businessman, head of the Colonial Guard . . .
“That one is the owner of a heavy machinery and car company. He has the agency for Caterpillar, Vauxhall, and Studebaker. The parents of Julia’s friends work for him. And that one over there is the secretary of the governor general of Fernando Po and Río Muni. The governor wasn’t able to come today. A shame. I would have introduced you to him.”
Kilian had never seen so many important people in one place. If one were to come over, he would not know how to start—much less continue—an even moderately intelligent conversation. Surely these people talked about important current events. He glanced again at Jacobo, who seemed to be listening to Emilio attentively, though his eyes were scanning the place for a more enjoyable corner. Luckily, someone made a hand signal from afar.
“Boys,” said Emilio, “I believe my wife requires my presence. Enjoy yourselves!”