No Other Life (18 page)

‘I’m sorry, Father. Only emergency calls.’

‘This is an emergency. I want to call the presidential palace.’

He smiled as if he did not believe me, then pushed the phone across the desk. ‘Go ahead. Good luck.’

At first, I got a busy signal. Then an operator came on. ‘All the lines to the palace have been closed until further notice. Please hang up.’

I looked at the concierge. ‘I’ve been in the mountains,’ I said. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nobody knows how it started. Rumours, I guess, but yesterday morning the radio said that the assembly has voted to throw Jeannot out. An hour later the assembly denied it, but it was too late. People were already in the streets. You saw the sign outside?
touche pas no’ pe
. Leave our priest alone. Anyone who tries to get rid of Jeannot is asking for trouble.’

That night I had little sleep. At dawn I rose and went down the hall to the tin showers which were the only washing facility in the hotel. At that hour there was no service in the dining room and so I paid my bill and walked half-empty streets to the terminal where I boarded the first bus to Port Riche.

We travelled all day, stopping at every village on the route. My fellow travellers, most of them small traders, artisans, and servants of the rich, did not seem to know how the violence had begun. But one thing was certain. Everyone on the bus believed Jeannot’s enemies were trying to get rid of him. ‘They deny it, but we know it’s true. Jeannot wants justice. They afraid of that. But it will happen. Caroline Lambert and the big capitalists like Herve Souter, all those bloodsuckers who hold us down. Justice time! It’s over for them.’

When the bus finally pulled into the terminal that evening, I was unable to find a taxi. The streets of Port Riche were deserted. It was as though a curfew had been imposed and as I walked home in the half-dark streets I saw that even the beggars called
derniers,
solitary half-mad outcasts who camped in doorways, were huddled together for protection, a dozen of them sleeping in a semi-circle around the St Joseph fountain in the Rue Saint Sacrement with one of their number posted as a lookout on top of the saint’s statue.

When I reached the residence, Hyppolite unlocked the main door which was double-bolted and chained.

‘Want tea?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

I went into the study. Nöl Destouts was lying on the sofa, a book propped up on his huge stomach. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘So you’re back already. How is Judge Letellier?’

I looked at him, surprised. I had forgotten my own lie.

‘Better, thank God,’ I said at last. ‘But what’s going on here?’

Nöl heaved himself up into a sitting position. ‘Constitutional crisis. There’ll be a fight in parliament tomorrow. Our boy Jeannot against the rest. We should go and watch the fun.’

‘How can we? What about classes?’

‘It’s Saturday,’ he said. ‘Don’t you remember anything? Join me, why don’t you? It should be interesting.’

Hyppolite arrived with cups of tea.

‘All right. What time will it begin?’

‘Around ten o’clock.’

Next morning we were late in starting because Nöl overslept. It was almost eleven when we reached the parliament buildings. After a security check we were admitted to the Spectators’ Gallery overlooking the assembly. There are places never visited that, nevertheless, one feels one knows: stock exchanges, parliaments, courtrooms. But the sight of the Ganaen assembly in full session was unlike anything I could have imagined. Some of the congressmen and senators were armed, pistols strapped to their waists or holstered under their armpits. The Speaker made no attempt to preserve order. When we took our seats, Manes Planchon, the Mayor of Port Riche, a huge sweating
mulâtre
, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, cowboy boots and holstered revolver, was shouting at the top of his voice, ‘You aren’t the only one who was elected by the people,
Père
Cantave! This is a democracy, have you never heard of that word? We, too, were elected by the people! You think because you won big, that gives you all the power. Well, it doesn’t. There are rules in this chamber. This is the assembly of the people, elected by the people. And you have been elected to obey these rules.’

I looked down at the front benches of the government where Jeannot sat. Some of those around him shouted back angrily but when he whispered to Pelardy his supporters’ protest ceased. At this point, an elderly, elegant senatorial person, waving a large white silk handkerchief like a flag of truce, stepped down from the government benches, passing Jeannot, moving to the Speaker’s podium.

‘My party is the party of our President,’ he cried. ‘Or should I say it
was
the party of our President. We who elected him have been shut out of the political process. Every recommendation we make is greeted with derision by a group of left-wing political amateurs who surround President Cantave. I ask you now, my President. Were these people appointed by you to be your
only
advisers? You have consistently ignored the party that chose you as its candidate. You have rejected the assembly’s proposals for a qualified prime minister and are proposing a nobody who happens to be one of your toadies. At this point, with sadness in my heart, I must turn my back on you.’

From the opposition benches there were cheers and applause. The old man stood, as though undecided as to where he should now sit. At a nod from Pelardy, one of Jeannot’s supporters rushed up to a microphone. ‘Wait a minute, Senator. Do you think that the President of the United States or France would accept a prime minister picked by others? Ridiculous!’

Suddenly, someone among these lawmakers fired his revolver at the ceiling. The Speaker, roused at last, stood and shouted. ‘That is dangerous! People could be killed. Sergeant, remove Congressman Laniel. Remove him at once!’

But nobody moved to remove the one who had fired the shot. Instead, two other shots were loosed off and the shouting became pandemonium. It was then that Jeannot rose up from the front bench, quiet and preoccupied as though he were alone in the room. He walked slowly towards the Speaker’s chair. The shouting continued. He held up his hand, like a schoolboy asking to be recognised. Although the Speaker did not acknowledge his gesture, the din died down.

Jeannot stood waiting, looking up at the ceiling of the chamber, until there was near silence. Then, in that extraordinary transformation that came over him when he faced an audience, he began.

Brothers,

Friends and Enemies,

And yes, my enemies who are my friends,

I speak to you, to all of you today.

My Brothers,

We who have been elected to serve our country,

All of us, yes, all of us, were elected to this chamber.

I do not deny that. Why should I deny it?

The people have chosen us, yes,

But remember that God speaks through the people

And so God has chosen us,

All of us,

Even those who carry guns and swear untruths.

Even those who toady to the rich and rob the poor.

God has placed you in this chamber.

I do not ask you to elect Hercule Harsant as prime minister

Because I want to rule through him.

I ask you because

God has placed me here to serve the poor.

Because

I have prayed to Jesus who is my Lord and master,

I have asked Him to put into this mouth of mine

Words which will make you know,

All of you – even you, my friend and enemy,

Manes Planchon. And you, Longvy, and you, Parigot.

All of you,

That my cause is just.

That my path is the true path.

And you must also know

That I am no one.

That I have no ambitions.

And yet

I speak for Jesus.

Jesus is the poor.

I speak for them.

Some of you are angry because Ganae is changing.

Because the people

Will no longer stand still.

They will no longer stand for parliamentary rules

Or parliamentary tricks.

Already, it has begun.

The time of the machete.

What do I mean by that?

I mean the trouble we have seen these past days.

Mansions of the rich have been burned down.

People have been killed.

These things have happened and we sorrow for the dead.

But we do not repent.

Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.

Justice must be done.

It has not yet been done.

We cannot start to feed our people,

We cannot start to give them a decent, humble life.

If we are not united,

If we are not strong,

The poor cannot be free.

Unless they are rid of those who exploit them.

You know who I am talking about,

I do not have to spell it out again.

But what I have to say now, I have not said before.

Justice is a sword.

It has been put into the hands of my people.

My people are the poor.

The sword of the poor is used to cut down cane.

It is a humble sword.

Machete.

A rough tool, made of iron.

I say to you now.

The humble sword awaits us.

It will punish us.

It is tired of our brawling,

It is tired of this chamber.

It cannot wait much longer.

I warn you, my Brothers.

Beware that sword.

Machete.

If it is raised against you

It will be because you failed the poor.

Put away your revolvers.

They will not help you.

You have soldiers and tanks

But none of it will help you

Against the sword.

Do as the people ask.

Let us have justice.

I speak for them. I act for them.

I am nothing.

But I am God’s servant.

God has given me this sword.

I warn you.

Do as the people ask.

And do it now.

The chamber was silent as a church. I stared down at the heads of the lawmakers as they watched this slight, boyish figure turn from the Speaker’s podium and make his way down the chamber. No one moved to stop him or to follow him. The flunkies guarding the doors threw them open. Jeannot walked out. At once, the silence ended in pandemonium. Manes Planchon drew his revolver and fired it, bringing a momentary pause in which he shouted, ‘You heard? You heard? Who is the violent one?
He
is!’

Nöl and I were already on our feet. We hurried towards the exit and down the stairs to the ground floor. When we ran outside we saw, driving through the main gateway, a black Mercedes flying the presidential colours.

‘I’m going to the palace,’ I said. ‘Will I drop you off?’

He nodded. ‘What will you do there?’

‘I must talk to him.’

‘Too late. Remember Diderot. “Between fanaticism and barbarism there’s only one step.” Jeannot’s just taken that step.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Nöl said. ‘Do you?’

9

I dropped Nöl off at the residence and drove directly to the palace. There was no sign of anything unusual in the great square surrounding it but when I passed through the gates I saw a phalanx of Jeannot’s picked ‘soldiers’ stationed at all approaches to the presidential offices. I was recognised by one of his aides, who told me he was not in the building but had left for Radio Libre a few minutes ago.

‘What time is the broadcast?’

The aide said no one knew.

I left the palace and drove through the market area hoping to catch up with Jeannot at the radio station. As I did, I saw an unusually large number of people in the streets. On Avenue Domville a traffic jam evolved and slowed my passage to a crawl. I had no radio in my car. While I sat stalled in traffic Jeannot was broadcasting to the nation. And so I did not hear the most fateful speech of his career. It was the ‘machete’ speech, a version of what he had already said in parliament that morning. But now he spoke to the possessors of that ‘humble sword’, telling them that, with it, they, the people, could rule. The elite and the politicians wanted to install a prime minister who was their creature. The people must say no.

I never did get to speak to Jeannot that day. He had left the radio station by the time I reached it. Within an hour of his speech, Port Riche became a city in crisis. The voices heard on the radio and blaring from army trucks were the voices of General Hemon and his aides appealing for calm, threatening looters, denying reports of violence. But there was violence. That afternoon Father Duchamp saw the bodies of four people shot by soldiers in the mud-clotted lanes of La Rotonde. Six dead rioters were brought to the morgue of Charité Hospital and the nuns there treated some thirty wounded. Four soldiers were hacked to pieces when they tried to stop a mob which broke into the parliament yard and overturned official limousines.