Five days passed, which would have had as much to tell as any of the others, but that is the trouble with stories, sometimes they have to leapfrog over time, because suddenly the narrator is in a hurry, not to finish, not yet, but to reach an important episode, a change of plan, for example, the beat that João Mau-Tempo’s heart skips simply because the guard comes into his cell and says, Mau-Tempo, get ready to leave, I want those blankets returned to the stores, along with the bowl and the spoon, have this place shipshape by the time I come back. The problem with these men from the latifundio, especially when they’re innocent, is that they take everything so literally, call a spade a spade, which is why João Mau-Tempo is so happy, hoping for the best, Perhaps they’re going to set me free, the man’s a fool, as becomes immediately evident when the policeman returns to accompany him to the quartermaster’s store, where he deposits blankets, spoon and bowl, and where he receives the few personal items that have been kept there, and now, We’re taking you to the mixed cell, you’re not incommunicado anymore, which means you can write to your family and ask them to send anything you need, and then he opened the door and inside was a whole world of people, of all nationalities, well, that’s just a manner of speaking, meaning that there were a lot of people, some of whom were foreigners, but João Mau-Tempo is too shy and too constrained by his strong Alentejo dialect ever to be on friendly terms with them, however, as soon as the door closed, all the other Portuguese men surrounded him, wanting to know why he was there and if he had any news from outside. João Mau-Tempo has nothing to hide, he tells them everything that has happened to him, and so steadfast is he in his declaration that he hasn’t been involved in any political activities since nineteen forty-five that he repeats it there and then, though there’s no need, because no one has asked him.
João Mau-Tempo proved very popular, and once, coming across a fellow prisoner smoking, he asked him for a cigarette, which was rather cheeky given that he didn’t know him from Adam, but other prisoners immediately offered him tobacco too, and best of all was when another man, who had overheard their conversation, came bearing an ounce of superior tobacco, a pack of cigarette papers and a box of matches, Just say if you need anything, comrade, it’s share and share alike here, you can imagine João Mau-Tempo’s feelings, with the first puff he grew six inches, with the second he returned to his normal height, but greatly fortified, a diminutive figure among the other men, who smiled as they watched him smoking. And since even in the lives of prisoners there are happy events and coincidences, two days later, João Mau-Tempo was summoned to a room outside the mixed cell, where the guard, beaming as if he himself were the donor, for guards are contradictory creatures, said, Mau-Tempo, a gentleman from your village has brought you these clothes, four ounces of tobacco and twenty escudos. João Mau-Tempo was touched, more by the reference to Monte Lavre than by the unexpected gift, and he asked, Who was the gentleman, and the guard answered, It doesn’t matter, to us a donor is a donor, which was something João Mau-Tempo didn’t know. He went back into the room clutching his treasure, and as soon as he did, he let out a shout that could have been heard all over the latifundio, Right, comrades, if anyone wants to smoke, here’s tobacco for you, and another voice responded equally loudly, for these are things that need to be trumpeted abroad, That’s how it is, comrades, share and share alike, we’re all brothers here and we all have the same rights. Normally, one would choose quite different substances as proof of solidarity, but everyone takes what he needs or gives what he has, in this case cigarettes, little threads of tobacco rolled up inside the white cigarette paper, and now the tremulous tip of the tongue running along the edge and sealing it up, job done, humanity would be in a bad way indeed if it failed to understand such large gestures.
Some leave, others do not, new faces arrive, but they are rarely strangers, there is always someone who says, Well, fancy seeing you here, and after a few days, a policeman comes to the door of the room and says, Mau-Tempo, put your jacket on, we’re going for a stroll, but you’ll be right back, no need to take anything else. Perhaps he’ll be back, perhaps he won’t, but João Mau-Tempo is there to say that his heart dropped into his boots, and this is far truer than his statement that he hasn’t been involved in political activities for four years. He repeats the journey with a hound at his side, this time a big, almost beardless lad who seems nervous, perhaps he’s not yet used to this work, he
