“Yes, Daniela.” Laha continued to look at her. “You’re completely right. It has to start somewhere. Maybe, one day—”
“Listen!” interrupted Carmen, in a lilting voice. “Tonight is Christmas Eve! You have plenty of days to solve Guinea’s problems, but now we are going to talk about more cheerful things. Laha, would you like more custard?”
Laha hesitated while rubbing his eyebrow, and Clarence burst out laughing.
The same scene repeated itself the following day, only the menu and the conversation were different. Everyone had gotten up late, except Carmen, who once more deployed all her talents and surprised everybody with a marvelous Christmas meal with an enormous turkey stuffed with nuts. The skies had granted them a brief respite before snowing again, and almost half a meter accumulated on the roofs and the streets, making it difficult to get out for a walk. Clarence, Daniela, and Laha helped in the kitchen and laid the table. Jacobo and Kilian turned up, listened to the conversation between the women and the guest, and disappeared. The house was so big that there were many places to hide with memories.
Carmen asked Laha about Christmas at home. Laha asked which home, African or American. Carmen said she could imagine the American one from the films, so she was more interested in his African one. Laha began to laugh, and Daniela sneaked a glance at him.
Despite her constant worry about Laha’s identity, Clarence felt happy. She liked this time of year, with the fire always burning, the white landscape, the lights decorating the streets, the children hiding under their caps, and the kitchen full of dishes, pots, and pans filled with one thing or another.
The kitchen was very big, and even so, Daniela and Laha always seemed to pick the same time to go for the door, bumping into each other and apologizing.
Laha told Carmen that Christmas in Pasolobino was the real Christmas. In Guinea, it was the dry season, and people most liked cooling down in the shower—those who had a shower—or in the rivers and in the sea. There were Christmas lights in the cities that sometimes went out because of power cuts, but the villages remained dark. It seemed strange to see decorations and hear carols in such heat, but you did see and hear them. The children were not bombarded with advertisements for toys, as no one gave or got presents. Finally, people drank to celebrate the holidays; he did not know if quite as much as in the House of Rabaltué—the women laughed—as alcohol was cheap and people drank in the streets in short sleeves.
Laha had brought presents for everyone and asked when it would be a good time to give them out. Carmen smiled. The more she got to know this young man, the more she liked him. She would not mind having him as a son-in-law. Daniela wondered what he could have brought her. She was left with no choice but to wait until dessert to find out.
When the family exchanged gifts, the women received perfume, rings, and new purses. Jacobo got a sweater. Kilian, a leather wallet. Then it was Laha’s turn to give out his presents. He had brought Carmen three books, one on the customs and traditions of home, an anthology of Guinean literature, and a small recipe book. For Jacobo, some films that a Spanish director had taken on Fernando Po between 1940 and 1950 and that Laha had gotten in Madrid. For Clarence, music from Guinean bands that had recorded albums in Spain. And for Daniela, sitting beside him, a gorgeous shawl that he delicately placed on her shoulders. Daniela did not take it off all afternoon, not even when clearing the table, because Laha had touched it.
Last, Laha handed over a small packet to Kilian, sitting at the head of the table. Before it was opened, he said, “I ran out of ideas. I asked my mother for advice and . . . I hope you like it!”
Kilian unwrapped the packet and took out a small wooden object in the shape of a rectangular bell from which hung not one but several clappers.
“It’s an . . . ,” Laha began to explain.
“. . . el?bó,” Kilian finished the sentence in a hoarse voice. “It’s a traditional bell used to ward away the evil spirits.”
Everyone raised their eyebrows. Clarence rested her chin in her hand. What had Simón said in Sampaka about the instrument? He said that if the eyes did not give her the answer, she should go and find an el?bó. Where should she look for it? First the pith helmet, and now that bell . . . Why had Bisila suggested to Laha to buy Kilian precisely that present? As far as she knew, Simón and Bisila were not in contact.
“Thank you very much,” her uncle added, pale. “I appreciate it more than you can possibly imagine.”
Daniela picked up the object and looked at it closely.
“Where have I seen this before?” she asked, frowning. “It reminds me of . . .”
“Daniela, Daughter,” Kilian brusquely interrupted. “Where are those excellent chocolates we ate last night?”
Daniela got up, forgetting her question.
“Lately,” Carmen said, “this house has been getting some very unusual presents.”
Laha tilted his head slightly.
“She’s talking about a pith helmet that your mother asked Iniko to give me,” explained Clarence.
“A helmet?” Laha gave her a puzzled look. He did not remember ever having seen that in his life. He turned to Kilian. “Where could she have kept it? When I was seven or eight, Macías ordered all houses searched to destroy any object associated with the Spanish colonial period.”
Kilian blinked. “Something similar happened here. With the Francoist law on confidential documents, it was forbidden to speak about or give out information on Equatorial Guinea until the end of the 1970s. It was like a dream, as if it had never existed. It was impossible to know anything about the nightmare going on.”
“Was it that bad, Laha?” asked Carmen sweetly.
“Fortunately, I was a child,” Laha responded. “But yes, it was terrible. There were the repressions, accusations, detentions, and the deaths of hundreds of people. I could give you specific examples of how crazy the man was.”
Daniela sat down beside him.
“Macías couldn’t stand the idea that anyone was better qualified than he, so he attacked those who overshadowed him intellectually. Possession of the Geography and History of Equatorial Guinea textbook from the Sacred Heart fathers was punishable by death. In its place, he imposed a compulsory textbook that insulted Spain, even as he sought out economic aid. Pamphlets appeared saying he was a murderer, and all typewriters were confiscated. He ordered all books burned. He ordered all scholarship students in Spain to return, and when they did, some of them were murdered. Use of the word intellectual was forbidden. He organized the invasion of the island by the continental Fang Guineans. They were young and uneducated, coming from the deepest part of Guinea, and he supplied them with arms. He shut down the press. He forbade both Catholicism and the visits to our Great Morimò in the Moka Valley.” Laha rubbed his eyes. “Well, what do you expect from a man who publicly praised Hitler?”
Everyone fell silent.