18. Impressions of a distant world
Translated by Angela Telles-Vaz
I have always asked myself about my learning and reactions, at that time, regarding sexual problems. I’m aware that the situation was chaotic, abnormal and dense. But I have learned that through other ways like reading, movies, documents, reasoning. Therefore, I question myself about what I already knew, what I saw, what I learned there.
I was six years and nine months old when I went to live there. I left when I was eight years and six months of age. I knew nothing, except that there were men and women. I knew that something happened between men and women but what they did, up to then, was not the subject of my ruminations.
Soon, on the train, I heard that cold and sharp phrase forcing me to redo my ideas.
Aluísio is Antonio’s wife.
It was a new and very complex element.
First of all, I must emphasize that sex was a topic that never bothered me and it shouldn’t either bother the other ones because we never talked about it. We watched, listened, it was as if they spoke about complicated aircrafts that had nothing to do with our precious cars made of clay.
They sang a hard-core song that brought a new concept:
I saw your mother at the Brothel,
with her pussy dripping blood,
with a hand full of money,
at the expense of a sailor.
It must have been then that I learned what was to be a prostitute; obviously this inexpressive euphemism was never used. They would say the other name soundly. They would also tell fictitious adventures like the one about the hero that was playing with a flashlight and put it under the table, flaring between the legs of his aunt, saying openly, with a innocently and no prejudice what he had seen.
Another song didn’t say much, because I didn’t understand the meaning of the keyword, only later at Pedro II School, I learned its meaning. The melody is a well known catholic hymn:
The angels play wank,
The angels play wank,
Black chicken is the ass of your mom.
Black chicken is the ass of your mom.
Gradually, the new world was coming out of the mist. With obscene movements they told what was done with women, in front of everybody, I didn’t understand. But I filed it. The same movements were used to attack the back of a distracted companion. It was too easy. I had only to understand the lesson, repeated as many times as necessary.
They played a shocking and widely game. If one of our peers sat on the ground, playing or talking, another one came from behind and drew an enormous phallus linked to the boy’s buttocks without being noticed by the victim. On the other end, he drew the testicles on each side, then, he sat there and with the same gestures followed by groans like the ones done by a wounded cat. Everybody laughed and when the distracted boy realized what was happening, he quickly got up and removed the traces of such a public humiliation.
I remember that all of us showered in the same bathroom, the older ones over there and we over here. I never paid any attention to them, unless during one opportunity I had when I realized that they had hair on their genitals and we didn’t. This discovery was also filed by me, but it’s now, completely detached from any emotion.
The fact is that we didn’t pay much attention to those details. We rarely heard the chats until the end because we didn’t understand much of what was being spoken.
There is, though, within me, the memory of a very complex episode. It’s an obscure scene, blurred, but at the same time, details of penetrating clarity. I have spoken before with equal intensity about the night at the teacher’s house and the swim in the river hugged at the back of the supervisor. I named that episode: The Happening.
It’s confusing to wonder why I kept some details of the fact so well outlined, without knowing, however, to link its parts. Apparently, it doesn’t indicate anything serious or very unpleasant, besides the knife a little tucked away and a threat of hypothetical violence. This brings me to the conclusion that what happened must have had something to do with sex, because it left a mark on my memory in a halo of tremor and awe.
There is a step ladder against the wall. One of the older boys was sitting up there wearing shorts. Antonio came closer and they started talking. I was playing with clay right under the step ladder. Antonio holds a knife in his hands, he shows and hides it. I can’t hear the first sentence, no, no, the only I heard of the whole thing was:
If you tell someone, I’ll kill you.
They argue for a long time. The young man, a strong and pretty blond, unwillingly starts to be persuaded. Their voices are stifled. He tries a new argument but, Antonio stops him harshly, speaking firmly but very calm.
I looked up and saw that the young man’s gland was showing, I suppose that nobody there was circumcised. The curious thing is the fact that it was the only time I can remember paying attention to a genital organ of any of them, something nobody ever hid.
The rest is confusion, darkness and doubt.
I ask myself: why did it bring in me the impression of being a sexual problem? Because of what was said? Because what I saw had bothered me? My censorship must have erased the first and last words failing to destroy the filed emotion.
It’s obvious that, now as I write, things become more evident due to the intellectual that I have about situations like that one, youngsters of all ages, supervisors, confinement… Let’s say that it was something very disturbing. The knife… If you tell someone, I’ll kill you… Up there, the young man had his sex stretched out…
to be continued on next sunday.