Raised from the Ground

how he feels when he leaves, he will stand some way off, a picture of rage, staring at the prison, he is not the António Mau-Tempo we know, Manuel Espada will come, he will enter looking grave-faced and leave lit up by a serene light, and cousins and uncles will come too, some of whom live in Lisbon, but they will only be allowed in the corridors, peering in through a screen so fine that it’s hard to see the people on the other side, and with a policeman patrolling up and down, listening for any complaints from the prisoners. And the months will pass, the long days and the even longer prison nights, the summer will end, the autumn will go and winter will arrive, João Mau-Tempo is still there, he is no longer summoned for interrogation, they have forgotten he exists, perhaps he’ll stay there for good. Sigismundo Canastro had also been arrested, as João Mau-Tempo will find out later, when he is back in Monte Lavre and hears that Sigismundo has been freed, and then there he is, they embrace with free hearts, I didn’t talk, Neither did I, It was Albuquerque. Sigismundo has had a much harder time, and yet he laughs, while João Mau-Tempo cannot help but feel a certain melancholy about the injustice done to them. There is much talk in room six, they discuss politics and other matters, some men study, others teach, there are lessons in reading, arithmetic, some do drawings, it’s a people’s university, about which we will say no more, because eternity would not be long enough.

Today he is to be freed. Six months have passed, it’s January. Only last week, João Mau-Tempo was working on the access road along with other residents of room six, working in rain so cold it was like melted snow, and now he is sitting wondering what life holds in store for him, many men have been tried, but he has not, and some say this is a good sign, then the door opens and a guard says in his usual arrogant tone, João Mau-Tempo, and João Mau-Tempo stands at attention as the prison rules dictate, and the guard says, You’re leaving prison, get your things ready and be quick about it. Those who are staying are so delighted, it’s extraordinary, it’s as if they themselves were being freed, and one says, The sooner they empty the prisons, the better, we’re not achieving anything here, it’s as logical as saying, The sooner they give me the tools, the sooner I can get down to work, and then everyone joins in, it’s like a mother dressing her child, someone is putting on his shoes for him and another is pulling on his shirt or shaking out his jacket, anyone would think João Mau-Tempo was going to meet the Pope, it’s amazing, they’re like children, any moment now they’ll all burst out crying, well, if they don’t, João Mau-Tempo soon will when they ask, Now, Mau-Tempo, have you enough money to get home, and he replies, I have a little, comrades, but I’ll be all right, and they start collecting money, five escudos here, ten there, and they manage to scrape together enough for the journey with a little left over, and then, when he sees that a little money can also be great love, João Mau-Tempo will no longer be able to hold back his tears, and he will say, Thank you, comrades, and goodbye, I wish you all the best, and thank you again for everything you’ve done for me. This party atmosphere is repeated each time someone is released, ah, the joys of prison life.

It was dark when the van dropped João Mau-Tempo at the door of Aljube prison, it seems that this devilish Black Maria knows no other roads, and when João Mau-Tempo steps out, a free man this time, the policeman says to him, Go on, get lost, he seems almost sorry to see him leave, but that’s what they’re like, they grow fond of the prisoners and find it hard to lose them. João Mau-Tempo runs down the road as if the devil were after him, so much so that he glances over his shoulder to see if anyone is following him, perhaps the police indulge in such amusements, pretending to set a prisoner free and then mounting a hunt for him, and however hard the poor man runs, there’ll be a net waiting for him down some passageway, and he’ll be caught again, shoved into the police car, with all the policemen laughing and clutching their bellies, God, it was funny, oh, I haven’t laughed so much in ages, not even at the circus. They’re perfectly capable of such tricks.

The street is completely deserted, it’s black night, it’s not raining, which is fortunate, but the wind whips in between these tall buildings like the blunt razor of a barber in a hurry, it keeps cutting through João Mau-Tempo’s thin clothes, the wind is as naked as he is, or so it seems. He has stopped running, his legs feel awkward and he’s out of breath, he’s forgotten how to walk, he leans against a wall with his bag and a suitcase tied up with string, and although both are quite light, his arms can barely carry them, which is why he puts them down on the ground, who would think it, this same man who once carried such enormous weights couldn’t swing a cat by its tail, and if it weren’t so cold, he would lie down, he has too much suffering on his shoulders to remain standing, and yet he does. People pass him, there’s always someone out and about, but they don’t look at him, each thinking about his own life, I’ve got quite enough problems of my own, thank you, they have no idea that the man standing at the corner has just been let out of Caxias prison, where he has spent the past six