Iniko pursed his lips and gave her a look of reproach.
One of the police officers, a thick-set man with an unfriendly face, went over to her and, after looking her up and down with a disagreeable scowl, took her papers. He studied them with a deliberate lack of haste. Then he walked over to the other officer, showed them to him, came back to Clarence, and returned them with a grunt. A few seconds went by, but neither of them made any movement to raise the barrier. Clarence, remembering how Laha had rescued her from those police in front of the cathedral, stretched out her hand with the notes and quickly reached toward the officer before he could notice her nervousness. He opened his hand, quickly calculated the amount that she had given him, and, to Clarence’s relief, seemed satisfied. He signaled to the other, and they let them go through.
Once inside the vehicle, Iniko, more relaxed, said, “Could you tell me who taught you the customs of the country?”
Clarence shrugged. “Laha.” She gave him a satisfied smile. “As you can see, I am a quick learner.”
Iniko shook his head. “That Laha! They gave him the right name.”
“Oh, really?”
“Laha is the Bubi god of music and good emotions. Translated it would be something like ‘someone with a good heart.’”
“It’s a beautiful name.”
“Much better than his other one. His full name is Fernando Laha.”
“Stop the car!”
Iniko stopped dead. Clarence opened the door, got out like a shot, and leaned against the car. She raised her hands to her face and rubbed her temples. Laha was called Fernando!
She went over all the clues: Julia’s advice to search for a Fernando older than she and born in Sampaka, the little she knew of the life of Bisila, the coincidence that she had lived on the plantation, the cup of coffee smashing to the floor on hearing the word Pasolobino, the flowers in the cemetery . . . Could it be? Laha was mulatto, and he was also called Fernando! And if . . . ? And if . . . ?
Iniko put a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes, Iniko, sorry, I . . .” She took a deep breath. “I got a bit dizzy. It must have been the heat, and the tension of the police checkpoint.”
Iniko nodded.
It was hot, but Clarence rubbed her forearms as if she were cold. She peeked at Iniko, who looked at her with a furrowed brow. And if she told him her suspicions? She shook her head and closed her eyes. What would she achieve by telling him that there was a small possibility that they shared a brother? Was she going to waste some promising days based on a hasty conclusion held together by a thread? How long had it been since she had allowed herself a bit of excitement? Would it not make more sense to wait until Ureca?
She opened her eyes, and there was Iniko, standing with his legs slightly apart, his arms folded across his rock-hard chest, and his enormous half-closed eyes looking at her patiently.
“I’m feeling better, Iniko,” she sighed. “We can continue, if you like.”
The last part of the journey turned into a constant battle between the 4x4’s powerful engine and the vegetation that had reclaimed the track.
“And this remote and inaccessible place is part of your work route?” Clarence asked, her stomach slightly queasy because of the potholes.
“I don’t come here very often,” he admitted. “More for pleasure than for work.”
“And when was the last time you were here?”
She pretended not to be jealous, but a cheeky question did go round in her head: Has he made the same journey with Melania?
“I can’t remember.” He smiled. “Actually, it’s a place I would like you to see. Accept it as a present.”
He stopped the vehicle in a small clearing from where some houses could be seen.
“Now we have to walk a bit to go down to Moraka Beach, but it’s worth the effort.”
The way to the sea first followed a gently sloping cocoa plantation, and later they walked along a path through a forest closed over by enormous trees whose roots extended along the surface and tripped up Clarence. After a short while, they heard the roll of the waves, and a large gap opened in the canopy to reveal an indescribable panorama.
At their feet, a cliff fell away for almost a hundred meters. She swayed, seeing that Iniko was taking a narrow, steep, and winding path, practically hanging off the precipice. Though frightened, she followed him. She slipped on the stones and the tree trunks that sometimes acted as steps, making Iniko laugh and throwing into doubt her skills as a mountain woman. When they got to the bottom, Clarence turned and looked up, not sure she would be able to climb back up.
If she ever wanted to go back.
She opened her mouth, dumbstruck. The effort had indeed been worth it. All the possible images of paradise she had in her head materialized in that very instant.
Before her eyes was the most gorgeous sight she had ever seen in her life. It was a long, wide beach of black sand and clear water. Close to the end of the path, an enormous waterfall cascaded down, creating a crystalline pool. It was the mouth of the Eola River, its death turned into pure beauty.
Entering the sea, an outcrop of rocks rested on the sand, placidly lapped by the waves. Where there was no beach, the blue of the sea and the green of the jungle shared each other’s frontiers.
“What do you think?” Iniko asked, happy to see her expression.
“My father, in spite of not being poetic, always claimed to have had the good fortune of knowing two earthly paradises: our valley and this island. And it’s true. This is paradise!”
Iniko took off his boots and motioned her to do the same. Then he took her by the hand, and they began walking along the beach.
“Each November or December, thousands of giant sea turtles end their migration across the Atlantic Ocean here. The majority were born on this beautiful beach and come back to lay their eggs. They come out of the water to the dry sand, where they lay the eggs and bury them. Some return to the sea. Others die from exhaustion. Others are caught by the hunters who wait in hiding, even though they are a protected species and in danger of extinction. They turn them over with the shell on the ground. They can’t right themselves, and they stay like that until they have died.” He moved his arm over her shoulders and squeezed her against him. “When I think of the turtles coming out of the water and dragging themselves to the shore, Clarence, I think of those from my country who left and couldn’t return, of those who came back and were mistreated, and of those who, at all costs, try and succeed in keeping their descendants on the black beach.”
Clarence did not know what to say.
They walked barefoot along the sand for a long time and then paused before a huge rock covered in moss and birds, which rose up thirty meters into the air. A small cascade seemed to flow from its top.