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I was watching it for a while and I began to think about how curious it is that even in nature, there are massive differences. Tiny plants born next to towering trees, long-necked giraffes alongside large-shelled turtles with almost no neck at all, although I do know that in Australia, there is a native species of turtle with a long neck. That’s rare of course, but there are many things there that can’t be found anywhere else except for in those distant lands, from what I’ve read about them.
Well, this wasn’t the time to think about that, although one day I would like to visit that distant country and check out the curiosities of its culture for myself.
We Galicians have always boasted about the antiquity of our land, but I think the aborigines in Australia say that they have lived there for 40,000 years, that the gods had left them there to take care of everything and that one day they would return and hold them accountable for it.
Of course it’s important to see that different beliefs are held in different places, and I dare say, something really must be hidden behind traditions, because if not, where did they come from? Who was the first to come up with them? And why have they not been lost with the passage of time?
Too many questions always arise as soon as you start to really think about something, but it would be interesting to know all the answers.
I remembered that there is a belief in witches, or “the Meigas” in my beloved Galicia, and when you ask people, as I had asked my grandmother on several occasions:
“Have you ever seen a ‘Meiga?’” I asked her inquisitively, so she would tell me.
“No, child, never, but I’m sure they exist, as they say, ‘Just because you haven’t seen them, it doesn’t mean they’re not there,’ and if you don’t believe in them, they come and punish you,” my grandmother would answer very seriously.
That subject had scared me for a time, and it made me not want to go to my grandparents’ house. I was almost sure that because my grandmother believed in them, even though she had never seen one, a “Meiga” was roaming around her house, and I didn’t want it to see me. When it saw that I didn’t believe they existed, it would punish me by not letting me play or by taking away my snack, which was worse, because as my brothers say, I have always been a glutton.
My father used to say that I must have “Tapeworms,” because I was always eating and I was like a toothpick. I didn’t understand it, but the truth is that I’ve been thin all my life. My mother put it down to soccer, and more than once when she got angry because I had borrowed something, Carmen had called me scrawny, which she knew bothered me a lot.
“It seems you’re jealous of me,” I would say, “for not having my slim figure and you can’t eat all the bread you want, because you say that bread is fattening. It must be for you because I eat sandwiches and I’ve never put on weight. Maybe it’s that the bread knows who’s eating it, and since it knows that you don’t like to be chubby, the bread stays inside your body just to annoy you and it sees that such nonsense doesn’t matter to me, so it leaves me in peace.”
The discussion would have to end, because my mother would get between us and say:
“That’s enough, everyone eats their own food, case closed.”
Leaving a piece of her snack as soon as my mother left, she would hand it to me and say:
“Let’s see if this’ll make some of your bones less noticeable.”
I was delighted that she would give it to me, I don’t remember ever saying no.
CHAPTER 5.
A mild ache in my belly reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything for a long time. At that moment, I suddenly heard a noise and I said to myself, “What’s that sound? It sounded like someone was raising a metal shutter, the kind they have in some stores. Let’s see if I’m lucky and it’s a coffee shop or something. Whatever it is, at this point I’ll settle for anything, sweet or savory, it’s all the same to me, but I can’t hold out much longer without getting a bite to eat,” I thought, “I’m going to end up fainting.”
Getting up from those stones that I’d spent such a long time sitting on, and becoming aware of some pain in my buttocks, caused by the discomfort of my seat, I headed toward the place where I thought that sound had come from.
I was walking slowly, my legs seemed to be half asleep because of the way they’d been positioned, when I suddenly saw a girl walking a dog. She was calling it beautiful and other things that I found amusing.
Why do people imagine that animals are listening to them? I have stopped to think about that at times. I had a neighbor who lived alone, and with the idea of keeping loneliness at bay, or so he told me, he bought a puppy. It was a tiny little thing, a Chihuahua, I think it’s called. If you weren’t careful, you could step on it, and when I would meet him on the porch as he was coming in or setting out for a walk, my neighbor would tell me:
“Manu, you have no idea how good company he is.”
Smiling and doubting his words, I would leave and hear him talking to his dog as I walked away.
“Let’s go here or there, I know you like it there,” he would say to the dog.
How did he know what his dog liked? What an imagination. Well, this girl was so entertained talking to her dog, that when I said, “Hi,” having not seen me approach, she was startled, so I immediately added:
“Don’t be afraid, I just wanted to ask you if you knew where there was a coffee shop that would be open at this time.”
After her fright, she had pulled on the dog’s chain and placed him between us, to defend her. She made a gesture with a shrug of her shoulders to show that she hadn’t understood me, which made me realize that I had spoken to her in Spanish.
I immediately said the same thing in Italian, and when she heard it, smiling, she extended her arm and pointed to a place for me. I looked toward the place she had indicated and saw that the curtains were being drawn at that moment. Yes, that must have been the place where I had heard them raising the shutter earlier, I had no doubt. I thanked her and headed over there with long strides.
I pushed on that glass door and looking over near the windows, I saw that a waiter was finishing drawing the curtains, he still had the cord in his hands.
“Buongiorno, can you give me something to eat?” I asked immediately, trying to pronounce it properly and in a way that he would understand me. He didn’t react as that girl had just a moment ago.
Looking at me in surprise, he replied:
“We don’t have anything at all. This is a coffee shop, there is no food, we’re only just opening,” he told me in Italian of course, but speaking slowly. It was clear that he was used to talking to strangers, perhaps visitors from other countries, because he understood very well.
As I sat there at a table, I said:
“Whatever you have, cake, bread with butter or coffee with some cookies, whatever you want, but surely you have something in there that could placate my stomach,” and I put my hand on my stomach to make it clearer.
He didn’t seem to understand me as well that time, even though I had taken a lot of care when I said it, but turning around and without saying anything, he went into what I assumed must be the kitchen, and immediately came back out with a plate full of pastries.
My eyes widened when I saw that treat. Given my sweet tooth and the hunger I felt, surely I wouldn’t leave a single one.
I held back, but as soon as he left it on the table, I thanked him and took the first one, I wasn’t going to be fussy.
I reached out for the biggest one, which was decorated, it was covered in chocolate. I could not believe how lucky I was while I took my first bite. “Food finally,” I told myself.
I was like a little kid, but I was already feeling very faint, so I said to myself, “Why should I wait before I have more?” and when I’d finished with that one, I took another.
I was starting to eat that one when the waiter approached me. He was holding a cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand, which smelled… Aaah! It smelled so good! How wonderful! That made me forget all my aches and pains.
<<<<< >>>>>
Ever since my student days, coffee has been my drug of choice. I’ve never even considered trying any others, even though “certain companions” have invited me to on occasion, I have always been clear, no drugs. They bring a lot of problems, but I had never been able to resist coffee.
Of course I picked up the habit at home, with the coffee my mother made. I’ve never had any quite like it, and of course I dare say, knowing how much mothers love their children, none would consider giving their kids a substandard version of something.
Therefore, if she made me that delicious coffee every morning, well, it was sure to be a decent brew, not that she would give me a lot. Whenever she poured it for me, I would ask her for “one more little splash,” and she would top me up with a few more drops on top of what she had already given me, saying:
“That’s enough to keep you alert.”
That’s how I gradually fell in love with coffee and I’ve never gotten out of the habit. It’s not that I abuse it, but it’s true that I prefer it to anything else.
A warm sip of that coffee that the waiter had given me made me recall that now long ago day and that decision I had made. I had to learn everything I could about those three children, and about what really happened.
Surely they’ll all be stories whipped up by priests. They were Portuguese and when communism was introduced there, someone very smart must have said, “Let’s fight it,” and the plan was surprising at best, they would have to have had a lot of resources to implement it.
Because of what little information I’d been able to glean so far, led by my curiosity, there were people who really believed it, even that “the sun had danced”, what nonsense! How far did superstition go? How can you be deceived like this and believe that nonsense?
But I was ready and willing to discover the deception. I had no idea how difficult that would be, but I had nothing better to do. I would devote myself to it for as long as necessary, because when I set out to do something, I go all in to reach my goal.
On top of that, I had read something about the subject of Fatima, to try to understand “The Documents,” which I had hidden well. It was not until my first vacation, when I had more free time, that I thought I would devote a little time to that topic, to see what I could find out.
“I’m going to Portugal for a few days,” I told my family.
“Son, when did you make that decision? Why so suddenly? Has something happened that you don’t want to tell us about?” asked my surprised mother.
“Mom, I’m older now,” I replied with affection, “it’s high time I made a move and learn something for myself.”
“No, it’s not that I object, but tell me, what part of Portugal will you go to?” she asked in a worried tone.
“I think I’ll go to Fatima,” I said, lowering my voice.
“Whaaat?” said Carmen, “to Fatima? Did I just hear you properly? What business do you have going to Fatima?”
“Well, to Lisbon,” I adjusted quickly.
“I thought I heard you say you were going to Fatima,” she said with a smile. “Will it not be to pray, to get rid of those weird ideas in your head?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked seriously. “We all have the freedom to believe in whatever we want.”
My father, who certainly had an opinion on a matter like that, even if it was not the same as mine, intervened and said:
“Yes Manu, believe, if you can, in whatever you want, in something that’s not right and which I think even goes ‘against nature.’ I didn’t know then what it meant, to not believe, to question everything and to have such absurd ideas, but how can there not be a God who created us, who created everything? That’s impossible.”
“Dad,” I said, “let’s drop the subject, we’ve already discussed many times. You have your ideas, and I have mine, and I don’t think I’m hurting anyone thinking the way I do, and Mom, rest assured that I’ll be careful and nothing bad is gonna happen to me,” I said when I saw how her expression had changed when that topic of conversation had come up.
My mother, who didn’t want to talk about it either, said:
“Do you know that the twins have written?”
“Really? And what did they say?” Carmen asked very quickly, because she wanted to move away from the subject too.
“Well, that they’re doing very well at camp, that they swim a lot and that they’re training for a competition. They both say they’ll win.”
“Well, as always,” said my father, interrupting her, “they’ll have to give the trophy to both of them and they’ll have to share it. In reality that won’t be difficult because they sleep in the same room.”
“Well, I wonder,” said Chelito, “why don’t they each focus on something different?”
“But darling,” said Mom, “that’s impossible, they always have to do everything together.”
“No, I know that they were born together, but at some point they’ll have to realize that they have to do things separately, otherwise when they get older, will they also marry the same woman? I think that with that condition, no one will want them.”
Laughing at the remark, we finished the meal, but after having been in my room for a little while, I heard some tapping on the door. I was surprised because I hadn’t heard any footsteps in the hall.
“Yeees?” I said.
“Can I have a moment?” I heard quietly.
“Sure,” I answered. “Come in, come in, what do you want?”
Opening the door just a little, Carmen slipped inside:
“You don’t fool me you know. What are you looking for in a place like Fatima?” she asked, and then she said, “Look me in the eye and answer me, are you questioning something about religion at this point? You can count on me brother, you know that, right?”
“No!” I said in a serious tone. It seemed to just come out of me and I raised my voice a little.
“Alright, don’t be like that, don’t get angry, just acknowledge that what you said is very strange, that the one time you go on your own vacation, you’ve chosen to go there,” she told me.
“Well, it’s not the first time I’m leaving home on my own. Besides, what do you care where I’m going?”
“Why wouldn’t I care? I’m your big sister and I know it’s not the first time to see you doing something on your own. I already know that, but the other times were different, you got up to those high jinks over your summer breaks, to ‘help out in your own way,’ as you put it when you didn’t want to give us any further explanation.”
“What’s wrong? Can I not do what I want now? Didn’t I go to Paris?” I said a little nervously.
“Yes,” she answered immediately, “Paris, you were so lucky! I remember it well, but you weren’t alone, I think you were four, right? I think it’s great that you’re going where you want, I just wanted to know why this time was different, it just surprised me, that’s all.”
Not wanting to give her any more information, I said:
“Go on, leave me be, I have to study. I’ve got a final exam tomorrow and it’s gonna be pretty hard.”
“Alright, but when you come back from your trip, you have to tell me what you’ve seen, okay?”
“Okay,” I said so she would drop the subject, and saying goodbye, she left the room.
I looked at the closet. Fortunately, no one knew what I had hidden there. They would have asked me so many questions if they did. I would’ve had to give them so many explanations, and say to them, “Please don’t tell anyone,” so many times.
It was better this way, with only me knowing. I would share it with them some day, when I was clear on the matter, when I had discovered the reasons why that person had hidden it in that place.
<<<<< >>>>>
On my second day of being in Fatima, a very strange impulse within me compelled me to head to a solitary place. I let myself be carried away. For some time, I had stopped wondering about certain things that happened to me, and my curiosity made me follow those impulses. I knew that what happened next was not by chance, because I’ve never believed in coincidences.
I walked slowly, as if I were waiting for something, but waiting for what? I didn’t know anyone there. I had only arrived yesterday, and nobody knew that I was there, because I hadn’t told any of my family the specific place where I was going to stay.
Surely they thought I would be staying in Lisbon and that was also what I had thought at first, but when I arrived here at Fatima and after driving around a little to take a look at the place, I saw that sign that said, “Quartos,” or “Rooms,” so I stopped the car and got out. I had to ask if there were any free rooms to spend the night. A man was standing there at the door to the place and approaching him, I asked about it.
“Yes son, there are still some left, they’re not exactly banging my door down, this place only fills up on special occasions, and now it seems that the weather isn’t bringing much business with it,” he answered before entering the building.
I turned around to properly park and lock the car, then I went back to the entrance and saw the man talking to a woman. They both looked over at me as I came in through the door, and the man left to go into another room, closing the door behind him as he went.
After greeting me, the lady asked me if I would stay that night. At that moment I was confused and answered:
“I don’t know!”
Opening her eyes wide, she said:
“Do you no longer want the room? What happened?”
“No, yes, I want it, but I don’t know if it’s only for one night or if I’ll stay for longer,” I answered.
