Where Tigers Are at Home (101 page)
Read Where Tigers Are at Home Online
Authors: Jean-Marie Blas de Robles
One of the cameramen climbed up onto the platform, followed by a sound engineer. The campaign organizer gestured to them to stand back a little so that they could include Nelson in the picture. Used to these media stratagems, Oswald understood what was wanted and positioned himself accordingly. The sun was behind him, the shot would be perfect.
Nelson saw nothing of this. Hypnotized by going over one single act in his mind again and again, he kept his eyes fixed on the patch of sky where the man he intended to assassinate would appear.
The police took up position around the platform and, while the bodyguards blocked access to the rostrum, the two governors mounted the steps. Barbosa, Jr., was the first to appear. A glance from the cameraman told him what was expected of him so that he headed straight for Nelson in a movement that appeared completely spontaneous.
Behind his lens, Oswald immediately centered the scene, going down on his knees so as not to miss the initial contact. The disabled lad seemed terrified and it took several seconds before he held out his left hand to the governor. One of his arms was paralysed as well! It was good, very good. Barbosa muttered some words of comfort to him and moved across to the mike. OK, the second camera had taken over there. Zoom in on the Governor of Maranhão: his expression relaxed, sideburns triumphant, José Moreira da Rocha made his way in his turn toward the young cripple. Then suddenly his smile vanished and his jaw dropped. Instinctively Oswald changed the focus and saw the young lad, his gun held out at arm’s length, then the other hand gripping the butt to help hold it steady. Unable to believe his eyes, he looked up from his viewfinder and threw himself down flat.
The sound of the shots, a clock rapidly striking six, brought Uncle Zé to an abrupt halt. In the seconds that followed, he registered the howling of the crowd and the wave of panic sweeping back toward him. Two brief bursts of machine-gun fire set him running toward the platform again. He’s done it, he thought, as he made his way forward, looking stunned.
The sound system, switched back on, sent out the latest samba:
Bri-gi-te Bardot
Bar-dooo!
Bri-gi-te Beijo
Bei-jooo!
Uncle Zé’s lips went white with fury, a rage that had nothing human about it and that swelled in proportion to the absurdity beneath which the criminal stupidity of men generally hides.
1
They did not take the city, but hope revealed misfortunes. [If the Greek sounds are read as a French sentence, it gives:
Où qu’est la bonne Pauline? À la gare, elle pisse et fait caca
(Where is dear Pauline? At the station. She’s peeing and doing a poo), a sentence that is said to have amused countless generations of French schoolboys learning Greek. —Translator’s note.]
JEAN-MARIE BLAS DE ROBLÈS
is a former lecturer in French literature and philosophy at universities in Brazil, China, Italy, and finally, for the Alliance Française in Taiwan. His first literary publication was a volume of short stories in 1982, followed by two novels; soon after he turned to writing full-time. An avid traveler, Blas de Roblès also edits a series of books on archaeology and is a member of the French Archaeological Mission in Libya. In 2008 he was awarded the prestigious Prix Médicis for his novel
Where Tigers Are at Home
.
MIKE MITCHELL
has translated more than seventy books, including works by Goethe, Gustav Meyrink, Adolf Loos, and Oskar Kokoschka. Many of his translations have been short-listed for awards, including three short listings for the Oxford-Weidenfeld Translation Prize. Most recently Mitchell has been short-listed for the Helen and Kurt Wolff Translator’s Prize for Thomas Bernhard’s
Over All the Mountain Tops
. In 1998 he was awarded the Schlegel-Tieck Prize for Herbert Rosendorfer’s
Letters Back to Ancient China
.
