Only the Animals (6 page)

I saw women throwing boiled sweets and chocolate and fruit to the soldiers in the streets. My first taste of chocolate. I asked Frau Oberndorff why everybody is happy. The people are glad for a break in their routines, they are bored of life, she said. They think it is exhilarating to be at war. Exhilarating. A new word for me. New body, new word, new war. I ate too much chocolate and afterwards felt sick.

Regards

Hazel

 

Dear Evelyn

        I thank you for your reply, and for Hazel's dictated note. I see I was asking too much in addressing you with familiarity, but when I sit down to write to you it is impossible to hold back. These years banished from you have been terrible. To know that you are holding in your hands this piece of paper, that you are reading these words … I cannot pretend to be formal. Forgive me, Evelyn, for everything. Please give my love to the children. I miss them. I miss you.

Yours

Red Peter

Dear Hazel

        How glad I am to hear that you have embraced our new, healthful German body culture. Let me tell you of my own regime, in case it may help you build your body into what you would like it to be.

Do not eat too much chocolate, I warn you. It can only lead to unhappiness. Many years ago, I decided to follow a strict dietary regimen to maximise my health, after years of suffering from ailments (back pain, migraines, sleeplessness). A stay at the sanatorium in the Harz Mountains introduced me to Mueller's body-building program, which Frau Oberndorff has wisely started you on, and to this day I do my exercises (as you do) before an open window. Lately, I have begun to feel the benefits of exercising nude outdoors, but this I do not yet counsel for yourself. One should only venture into nudism when one has learned to wear clothes.

I follow the Fletcher program of chewing every bite of food more than ten times. I am thin now, thinner than most humans I know, and it pleases me to be this way, without the least bit of fat on my body. Try, if you can, to eat
mindfully
. It will help you to overcome your instincts to fill your stomach to bursting with whatever is at hand. Eat slowly, never crack bones with your teeth if you must eat meat, do not sip vinegar noisily.

I refuse tea, coffee and alcohol. Contrary to what you might think, this discipline I impose on myself does not make me the slightest bit envious of other people's pleasure in indulgences. The opposite, in fact. If I am sitting at a table with ten friends all drinking black coffee while I drink none, the sight of it gives me a feeling of happiness. Meat can be steaming around me, mugs of beer drained in huge draughts, those juicy sausages can be cut up all over the place – all this and worse gives me no sensation of distaste whatever; on the contrary, it does me a great deal of good. There is no question of my taking a malicious pleasure in it.

Think of it like this. Have you been told the story of how Herr Hagenbeck decided to create a zoo without bars, so that visitors could gaze across the ditch separating them from the animals in their open-air panoramas? No bars to get in the way of a good wondrous stare, no cages to keep the animals from full expression of their wild selves.

What you need to do now is put those bars back in place, so to speak, in your heart and stomach and mind. Hem yourself in again, deny yourself whatever you desire, until the pleasure comes from the denial itself, not the consummation of the desire. Only then will you be truly free, and closer to human. They – the humans, that is – seem to think that what sets them apart from other animals is their ability to love, grieve, feel guilt, think abstractly, et cetera. They are misguided. What sets them apart is their talent for masochism. Therein lies their power. To take pleasure in pain, to derive strength from deprivation, is to be human.

Sincerely

R.P.

 

Dear Red Peter

          I hope this short dictated reply from Hazel finds you well. I understand from Herr Hagenbeck that you do not want to visit the zoo and meet with Hazel again until she is ready to be a companion worthy of you. Forgive my impertinence, but could you ask your gentlemen friends to refrain from visiting too? They come here – the ones who have not gone to war, for one reason or another – and knock on the laboratory door, making sly insinuations about Hazel being expertly prepared for your enjoyment, and they demand to see her. I remind them that she is to be your life's companion, and ask them to show respect. But I would rather they didn't visit and left us in peace until you are ready to debut her yourself.

The children know that you are writing to Hazel. They asked why you aren't writing to them, and I didn't know what to say. I am having a hard enough time explaining where their father is.

You are wrong about humans and masochism, by the way (do I imagine that your letters to Hazel are full of barbs for me?). Most of us derive no pleasure from pain; most of us persist in the belief that romantic love is the shimmering jewel in the crown of human evolution. Some among us suffer to think of your open window, the cool evening air floating through it, the warmth of your body beneath the covers.

Evelyn

Dear Red Peter

          The zoo, so noisy, my own thoughts held out. The birds in their enclosure squawk day and night. I am itchy. Itchy, itchy, itchy. Frau Oberndorff won't let me scratch. She bathes me, combs my hair to make it lie down, cuts my toenails, cleans my tear ducts. She says my breath is a problem. It stinks. I like the stink. I breathe out and sniff it in. I cling to the lamp that hangs from the ceiling and swing on it, back and forth, back and forth. I scratch my bum, sniff my fingers.

How did you become what you are? Why do you want me?

Regards

Hazel

 

My dearest Evelyn

          Your letter lit a fire in my heart, a hopeful bright burn …

I am sorry that my acquaintances (I would not call them friends) have been bothering you at the zoo.

Do you still not believe me, darling? That Hazel was all Hagenbeck's idea, that I was forced to go along with his plan as I have been forced to do everything he wanted of me for his cursed zoo? That if I had a choice, if
you
had a choice – you are somebody else's wife, let us not forget – I would choose you, you and only you? I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you, before I was fully human, and from across that gulf of understanding and experience, somehow, miraculously, you felt something for me in return. You alone inspired me to become human, not your husband's relentless mazes and sorting tasks and word repetitions, not his tantrums when I didn't do what he wanted, not the whipping, not the sweet fruit he dangled just out of my reach. I wanted to be human so that I might reach out across that chasm and touch you, be touched by you. You made me a better human, and I would like to think – dare I say it? – that I made you a better ape.

Yours always

R.P.

Dear Hazel

        In your last letter you asked for my own tale of transformation, and so I offer it. Do not be discouraged. It is a long process, beset with difficulty, to become human.

I have only dim memories of our natal home. Fragments. Perhaps you remember more. A thicket of wild blossoms that sprouted in the forest after the heaviest of night thunderstorms. The sensation of being gripped by a boa constrictor, the pressure comforting; almost giving in to death's lullaby before I was rescued – by my mother? my sister? – from the tightening coil. I have a scar along my hipbone from the hunter's dart, but I don't remember being shot. On the ship, they hung bananas from the top of my cage as a game but I refused to eat them. Then Prague, being fitted for a red velvet waistcoat and matching hat for my first appearance at the theatre. Peter's gentleness. The curtain opening on us sitting side by side on stage, reading beneath a spotlight, and suddenly the intimate moment being exposed for what it was: a performance for a raucous crowd.

Herr Hagenbeck bought me from Peter on one of his visits to Prague. He could see what I might be capable of, in a way that Peter could not. Hagenbeck enlisted Oberndorff, the ethologist, to train me here in Hamburg. His colleagues ridiculed him, but he ignored them, for they had also laughed at his attempts to cross a leopard with a Bengal tiger at the turn of the century, until he sold the successful hybrid for an unfathomable sum to a Portuguese collector.

I spent several years in the same laboratory at the zoological garden where you are now. Herr Oberndorff was very strict in his training regimes, brutal even, as you would already know. But Frau Oberndorff and the children made up for this in every possible way. I grew to love them deeply.

My human skills progressed so quickly that even Herr Oberndorff was shocked one day to see me strolling through the grounds beside Herr Hagenbeck, discussing politics and philosophy. Soon after that, I was moved into the city's best lodgings, and began to attract record numbers of visitors to the zoo with my speaking engagements and public lectures.

Which brings me to your second question: why do I want
you
? For some time I have needed a companion to accompany me in a dignified manner to gatherings and embassy functions, to Academy dinners, to special occasions frequently held in my honour around Hamburg. You were selected from the enclosure of chimpanzees at the zoo and did exceptionally well on the initial aptitude tests. Herr Hagenbeck decided that you too should be trained to be human, and that you would one day become my wife.

Then there is the matter of the other comfort you will bring, in becoming my companion. It did not seem fitting to Herr Hagenbeck for me to take a human wife for this purpose, nor could I bring myself to overcome my horror of the primitive chimpanzees at the zoo. My one fear – surely nothing worse can either be said or listened to – is that I shall never be able to possess you … I would sit beside you and feel the breath and life of your body at my side, yet in reality be further from you than now, here in my room.
Let us not dwell on this, however. These thoughts still make me a little queasy (forgive me).

Sincerely

R.P.

 

Dear Red Peter

          You will be glad to hear that Hazel has been accompanying me on excursions out of the laboratory, into the city itself. She no longer pulls off her clothes at every opportunity and she keeps her hat on for an extended period. She is comfortably walking upright, and people around me smile at her as if she were one of my children in her bonnet and dainty shoes. Her speaking and comprehension skills are rapidly becoming sophisticated. Herr Hagenbeck feels that she will be ready for you far sooner than expected. My husband would be delighted at her progress, the fruits of his labour. I have not had a return letter from him at the front for many months now.

Do you remember when my eldest child first began to talk in full sentences, how he would verbalise his thoughts without realising it? I used to eavesdrop on these ‘conversations', glad to have a direct line into my son's mind after years of guessing in a parent's hopeful way at his needs and heart's desires. You were here then, you liked to eavesdrop with me. You had only just started talking in full sentences yourself.

Hazel is in the middle of a similar phase, I think. Yesterday I eavesdropped on her in the laboratory and heard her wondering aloud to herself, ‘Am I more similar to a hedgehog or to a fox?' I had to have a little laugh before going in to her. It helped me forget our collective troubles, for an hour at least.

Did you send that old Chinese man to the zoo last week? I suspect you did. He gave me a copy of Buber's recent book of Chinese tales. And a pet cricket, a creature of whimsy. I gave the cricket to Hazel. She likes looking after small creatures. She is a gentle soul.

And yes, if you are wondering – I do remember that night, reading Buber together, and everything else.

Yours

Evelyn

Dear Red Peter

          Frau Oberndorff gave me a pet cricket. The cricket lives in a walnut shell. If you hold him up and look at him directly, he looks fierce. The man who brought the cricket to the zoo said he would win battles against other crickets if we first chop up a fly and feed it to him to make him violent.

I went with Frau Oberndorff and the children to stand in the ration lines. One line for each item, a long wait in a line for the weekly allowance of a single egg. Another line, another long wait for the war bread made of fodder turnips. It gives the children sore stomachs.

My ears are pierced with metal studs to make me beautiful. I can pull on stockings without laddering them. But there are no longer any stockings to be had.

Regards

Hazel

 

My dearest Evelyn

          I am glad the book of Chinese tales and the cricket were able to distract you for a moment from the misery of recent events. Does Hazel understand what is happening, why food has suddenly become so scarce? I am sure you have explained to her already, but I will also mention it in my letter, in case that helps.

I am worried about you and the children. Do you have enough to eat? Is Herr Hagenbeck helping you to source milk and meat on the black market? I wish I could send you supplies, but to be frank, I am not having much luck finding extra myself. The waiters in the hotel dining room have started giving me looks when I come down from my rooms to eat the one meagre daily meal they still provide. Perhaps I am imagining it. Luckily, as you know, I don't eat much. I am grateful to have trained myself into this frugality years ago. It would be beastly to be beholden to something as basic as food at such a time.

Yours

Red Peter

Dear Hazel

        In the interests of your education you should try to grasp what is happening to Germany. The pernicious effects of the British naval blockade, which has cut off the flow of foodstuffs to Germany from the North Sea, are now being felt. For too long we have been importing over a third of our food this way, and most of our fertiliser too, and now we are in trouble. The worldwide drought and crop failure has made it much worse. It goes far beyond a line of women waiting for eggs in the cold. There are strikes and food riots breaking out in our major cities. Food is being used as a weapon against us. England wants to squeeze the German lemon until the pips squeak. And we, my dear, are the pips.