Trash - Andy Mulligan [53]
What does the country need right now?
THREE THINGS:
A revolution.
Then a revolution.
Then – when the dust has settled – a revolution.
PART FIVE
1
Raphael, Gardo and Jun-Jun (Rat):
The Day of the Dead is about the biggest festival of the year out here – bigger even than Christmas and Easter together. It’s when ten million candles get lit, and the ghosts come up and walk around arm in arm, and everyone goes to see their departed ones, who stand up out of the ground and say hello.
That was why the traffic soon got slow, and before too long we were in a long jam – at last the taxi dropped us on the road that led off to the cemetery, and we walked in the smell of flowers.
There were crowds pushing everywhere.
People walked with kids and babies in their arms, whole big families, and some of the men had tables on their heads and chairs in stacks, on trolleys; they had cases of beer, great big bottles of water, and the ice carriers were dragging great slabs of ice, shouting for a way through. Little stoves, bags of food, and people dressed up as best they could, as if for a carnival – little girls in new dresses and the boys in ties, even though it was a hot morning. This is the day when your family is together again. You set up house by the grave, and sit and chat and eat and drink right on to midnight. By the time it gets to evening, the whole cemetery is glittering with the candles – and that’s when they say you need an extra chair, and an extra glass. That’s when you can turn round, and dead Grandma’s right beside you, old bones in whatever you buried her, smiling away with a hundred stories to tell. That’s when the kid you lost is playing around at your feet again, and if you had some quarrel with a brother who died, you can talk it through and settle it. Father Juilliard told Rat all about the resurrection one time, and I guess it’s this that he was talking about.
Rat says: I’ve never seen it, of course, but then I have no family here.
I do believe in ghosts, though, and on Sampalo island, where I’m from, people say they come out of the sea sometimes, if a boat goes down. They come into the village, sad as sad, and cry by your door all night. What do I know, though? I’d seen nothing like this.
Around us, the flower shacks got thicker and were overflowing with flowers till the scent lifted you off your feet. There were stores with sweet little Bible verses, plastic statues, plaques and postcards. The lottery sellers were everywhere, carrying wads of tickets and shouting. After all that, we came to the candle stalls – so many candles, thick and thin, tiny as your finger or too big to carry. Back from them there were food stalls, doing good business – and the three of us stopped and ate some fish, because we were hungry again and hadn’t had breakfast.
Raphael: I cleaned the blood off my arms, and Gardo said it was time for a plan. Opening up the Bible, we sat eating and reading, and nobody bothered us, because who’s going to get upset about even street kids, if they’re reading the Bible on All Souls’ Day? There was that breeze again, getting stronger still with all that flower smell, and we could feel the freak typhoon coming in on us again, ripping at the tents. It was going to be hard keeping the candles lit, so there were lots of people buying little jars for that reason.
I said, ‘Where we lay,’ and I scratched my head. ‘I guess he’s buried here. Does that make sense?’
‘He won’t be buried anywhere,’ I said (this is Gardo). ‘If the police killed him, he’s going to be burned up by now and in the trash. Also, he must have wrote all that before he died.’
That was true and we all agreed. But we also thought, What if his wife’s buried here? If that was the case, then Where we lay could mean the family grave. And that was what we decided to look for.
* * *
Rat now: I felt bad then, because that meant reading