O silêncio fala

by Sténio Pedro Urena (Mozambique)

I didn't expect to find Mozambique

- Come on up, boy. That was the cry that caused the warmth of the family hug to end. Nobody believed that I was going. Damn window. I could only see them but nothing I said heard them, because it didn't open, it left space just for our eyes to say goodbye. The Smartfone battery was my worst companion, it abandoned me thirty minutes after the departure, our relationship only remained firm because of my financial situation. The wheels of the bus ceaselessly kissed the holes in that poorly made road. - Our government robs us. I said, trying to make a point, looking at the world that was opening for the first time for me, stranger who wanted to explore down to the smallest detail. - What do you know about politics, boy? The old man at my side asked with an air of intellectual superiority. What would I answer to that old man? They usually have more knowledge than we young people. - It was a mistake. I justified it. So, with care I tried to formulate a speech that would give me the old man's consent in relation to politics. Subject that united and accompanied us during the trip. Exhaustion took over everyone, we couldn't wait to be expelled from that bus. Then, a man with no knowledge of that land could be seen getting off the bus wearing slippers. The ground was hard and boiled, as if the rays were directed from the earth to the sun, and not the other way around. Hungry looks of curiosity ate my image with every step I took. God only knows how fast I got to reach a shadow and take off the slippers that seemed to melt in the sun. Soon afterwards a bunch of children came to me, laughing, I felt overwhelmed. However, there was a child who did not approach, he was with an old man. I immediately thought of asking them for help to know where to take me, because reports had already reached me about the boarding school being full. They were both in shambles, but there was no problem. At that moment, I had no preferential choices about who to ask for help. - Excuse. Do you know where I can get a motel? - It is strange that you will come to us. The city is on the eve of Carnival and all motels are full. Come with us, you seem to be a good person. My brain was surrounded by a number of ideas. I didn't know what to say, but I agreed to follow them. I asked why they were dressed that way. - We are garbage collectors oh boy. The old man replied with a smile on his face, which made me stop talking and look at the view. The streets were narrow. As if they hadn’t had time to think about the future, when building. The houses were small and all without color, the eyes did not fall in love with that discolored city. But, it was the best place to reflect. The silence was deep enough to hear the sound of a heartbeat. It wasn't long before we got home. We spent the whole night talking and I explaining what had taken me to the city, so he said i could stay with them. I did not answer. It didn't make sense, migrate from one city to another to be a picker. After a while I asked why that child didn't say anything, two hours had passed and she was there in silence. - She's dumb. Whispered the old man In the middle of the conversation I fell asleep. When I woke up, nobody was there. My luggage was gone. - My God, how did I come to believe those beggars? I screamed. - Is that what you think? Your things are in the next compartment. Replied the old man. I was startled to hear the answer, I thought I was alone. I tried to apologize but the old man told me to get out of there. When I was crossing the street, I hear the child calling me, and she said: - Why tell you who I'm, if what matters is what you think of me?