Translated Accounts (29 page)

Read Translated Accounts Online

Authors: James Kelman

BOOK: Translated Accounts
11.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

What is wrong?

Nothing is wrong.

Yes, tell me.

I cannot listen to you, I cannot, dreams, I cannot listen. Dreams are also in my head. I survive with them, but they are only for myself, I do not ask that you share them, that you receive them
from me. I do not want to hear these dreams that are your dreams, family dreams. I want to sleep and must do so, you may watch I may sleep

What is wrong?

I cannot listen to you. Dreams of homecomings, I cannot listen. You wish to go back but there is no such going back it is not possible does not exist, dream world. Live in this world which is a
real world, where we now are in this decay, destroyed building, destroyed lives and dreams of life, deaths of children, killings of children, live in this world, this is why we now exist continue
to exist spiting spiting, this is why, not for dreams, lives as once they were, what of my son and his story my story, where is his mother is she dead where I do not know now for three years so
tell to me and his family to come, where are his mountains and rivers

I was now onto my feet. I walked around, kicked at the old old plasterwork, the rubble, perhaps something was to be found. Hiding places. Articles secreted there from years gone by. A woman
hiding these from her husband, treasures. For the coming family. Thus to astonish him years later, their first daughter now to marry, and from this secret place she would bring out these treasures,
hand-me-down trinkets, jewellery of ancestors, the husband dumbfounded, looking on her with amazement. These are for our grandchildren.

Stories stories, ghosts

I had not known of this place, this place where we now were, hovel, hovel as I thought

I was to the other side of the room. He was by the hole where had been a window, seated there, looking to the sky. I would apologise to him. He did not understand me. I did not make myself known
to him, thoughts that I had, we were not so far apart. If these stories were so upsetting to me, they were so, I could tell him. Perhaps to others he might tell them, not to me, I could not hear
them.

I had respect for him. But in that place there can only be ghosts, as in all places where humans are, and we are our ghosts also, they are within us, it is within us, as also death to come, his
death my death. My question to him

yes, I had such a question. Certainly I was no stranger to this region. I had come so and again. He had respect for this. And so my question, what of my death, did he see my death? I had
questions for him. And why I was there. These are not dreams. Why there is continuation. So many questions. I could ask him. Also his own death, was this true, did he feel this before him. As I
did. We all of us, all, ourselves, every one, who did not who did not

Where does this come from. Do ghosts exist. What questions, may we ask them, all such any such, I have no God, gods

What is wrong? he said.

Nothing is wrong.

Sit down.

I have to walk.

You are tired.

Exhausted, yes, we both

But you make my nerves on end

I do not enjoy your stories

My grandmother when a girl, I was telling you of her life, but you cannot hear, you are not able to hear, you cannot listen

I can listen

You do not

Yes, if it is your grandmother. You say you are telling me of her but no, it is another subject, she is become so. This is a story for you, a story for why you continue to exist, a story that
must exclude myself, such as myself, it can only exclude.

I am sorry.

I have no grandmothers, grandfathers, mother of my child, I have none.

I am sorry.

Why. I am not. I do not seek reasons, it is not important to me. I do not want these stories.

It is a story yet you cannot listen.

Homecoming stories.

A story from my family, he said. You do not listen.

I can listen, I shall listen, speak.

You command me?

I command you.

Thus I am commanded. So, my grandmother came home. She came firstly to town

Not village?

Town, the streets of her district, this was as she wanted, she had arrived at the seaport and come through customs and also visa, worried, worried.

You said airport.

Airport, yes. But through she came. All the taxis! She walked along and passed them by. She came into town by bus. No fanfare played for her, no bands massed for her. So she told us, humour
always with her you see. A large woman and robust, she wore town clothes. Many of the women dressed that way, when they were home also. She came into town as desired, she herself desired,
disembarked from the bus, now began walking, walking through the streets. Carried only one bag for luggage.

Now this is a dream, everyone’s dream, one bag for luggage, simple thing, everyone’s dream, life as it had been to recapture, her family friends and lovers, a moment in time, the
stillness, it is everyone’s dream.

It is not everyone’s dream.

Yes.

It is not everyone’s dream, it is not my dream, it is life, it is life in this story, for there, as she came walking through the streets she saw that in the street, there as she walked,
after these years, there he was, there standing, her former lover.

What standing who standing what is it, story, what story this is no story

This is a homecoming, he said, homecomings are not simple things.

Yes.

No.

Mine will be simple.

Your homecoming!

Yes my homecoming why not my homecoming, my homecoming can be real thing, material life and not make-believe.

You dream of homecoming?

Yes. Why not?

He smiled, waited for me to speak more, but I was tired. I could have smiled. He said, You do not have dreams?

He was attacking me. I did not reply but only looked at him, then away.

You have dreams! I do not think you have dreams.

Everyone has dreams.

Of your own place?

Of your own place. Of your own place in my own place, in this hovel-place, place of ghosts, wherever place, whatever country, where we are, we ourselves, any place, I have dreams, any place.

He laughed and then was silent.

Any place that I am.

My grandmother’s dreams, he said, this was her village, her country. He stared at me and I saw the strain in him.

You speak of me as a foreigner, stranger to this region. I am not so, I said, I am not so. Why do you say it?

I am sorry.

It is not sorry, sorry is nothing, I ask you why. You speak of my country, it is my country, well and I do not speak of it. That is your own make-believe, it is what you need, a necessity that
you demand, you and some other of your people, always, to see it in front of your eyes. And you have me in front of your eyes, representative of my country, you have it here, but I am not
representative.

What are you saying?

I said it.

But it is nonsense.

Well it is nonsense. You say to me of my country, that is nonsense, also your grandmother, more nonsense, make-believe story, but I am to listen to you. You demand it of me, using rank at me,
that I listen to a justification, the struggle now is for what existed in the past. This is not dreams but make-believe lies. You are telling me lies, seeking reasons, there are no reasons.

What do you say to me?

You are telling me lies, seeking reasons, there are no reasons, I do not know reasons, they do not exist.

I do not tell you lies. He glanced off and out through the hole where had been a window.

You say my country is another country. You say this to me, call it my country but I do not call it so, I am not there but here, I am here, in your country, your country is my country and you
must allow it, it is this, you must allow it. If it is not to be so allowed, if not by yourself, so I do not know, there cannot be such justification. There is not only your struggle, not only your
struggle. Are you observing ourselves, engaged not engaged, lawyers from overseas, all observers from international sources, foreign journalists of media, who are you now become, tell me?

One who does not tell you lies.

You do not tell me lies?

No.

Where is the cigarette?

What?

The cigarette? You had it.

The cigarette is gone. It is gone now.

Through the hole I saw layers of dark cloud. Dusk. If there had been sunset we would not have seen it. I could be sleeping, only ten minutes. I could sleep then he could sleep. I thought to say
so again and began to but stopped. What was I to say, what had I said to him. He sat with his shoulders held, elbows to his sides, not able to relax but he might sleep in that posture.

He was thinking of morning. He would be thinking now for longer, not talking but in his own head. I could sleep ten minutes, he could waken me.

What morning would bring. It was a useless concern. I wanted to have him understand this. We had been together now five days. I had respect for him. He took the role of leader. It was a natural
thing to myself but I said nothing and thus he was the leader. Through that I regained strength, I shall say it, facing the time to come. He it was.

I laid old plasterwork down, covered it with crumpled newspapers, lay with it as a pillow. I said to him, Speak, otherwise I shall sleep

You command me?

I command you.

My grandmother?

And her lover, yes.

Yes, he said, so, in her district. She had arrived there, walking through her streets, in her town, as you know, enjoying what had been her desire, as you know, the smells and the sounds, shades
and light, hustle and bustle of people, all as you know, busy busy busy, and children, daughters and sons who are to live lives of great beauty, such existences, famous artists and authors,
musicians and philosophers, all, all who are there, peoples and peoples, around her, everywhere, and it was in her place, was her home, this was to where, and there now in front of her, as the
years had vanished, her former lover was standing, yes, standing there.

He shook his head and stared at the hole in the wall. I saw his right hand, the knuckles clenching, the tension at his eyes.

So tell me. I reached to his hand, to the back of it, rubbing the veins there. He watched me doing this. Do not worry, I said, you are tired, I am tired, we both are tired.

I am not tired.

You are tired, I see your magician’s eye, it is black now and sunken, it may fall out and I shall not catch it, I am tired, it shall fall to the insects thus we are to sleep, you first I
shall be awake, alert, I shall watch these stars through this window.

I am not tired.

Yes.

I am thinking of another time. Still my grandmother, a friend of hers, from schoolchildren days. This had been a best friend, girls together

Sharing their dreams.

Sharing their dreams, yes.

This is a future for ourselves, sharing our dreams, only men together not girls. I am your grandmother’s best friend.

He smiled. You are holding my hand, oh lover.

I am holding your hand. Now no, take it. You must sleep, your brain is exhausted.

First is the story. Later, when she had bathed

Who, spirit-lady, angel from god?

Young lady, she had freshened, changed her traveller’s clothes, bathed and freshened, she made a telephone call to my grandmother’s lover

You people had telephones? You people, you had telephones?

My family was wealthy, computers and pianos, all new technologies, telephone call to this lover, her friend made this call. It was at that time I tell you now that her former lover, I have to
tell you now. This young man, thirty-five years

Grandfather, you are returning to him?

Her former lover, yes.

But about the girl, young lady?

Ah.

Tell me!

You are listening.

Tell me about her, how tall and what shape?

What?

What, tell me.

I do not know, tell you, tell you what?

Under her clothes, what shape? Loose clothes?

Loose clothes, yes.

What shape?

What?

Clinging? Clothes clinging, to her body, fresh-smelling?

Fresh-smelling.

Fresh-smelling!

Yes, scented.

What age?

As my grandmother, friends from schoolchildren days.

Yes but at that time I want to know, of when you speak.

She was not a girl, of the time I speak, it is you now, dreaming, it is you.

You said so.

No.

Yes.

No, it is you who is now worried, worrying. But you should not, these are stories, homecomings, leave takings.

You are wrong.

I am not wrong. He smiled. There will be a time for you also. Yes, there will be.

Not for me.

Yes, for you.

No.

He now did not speak but instead clapped my shoulder and was shaking his head. I knew that turn in him, but as also in me, it was also in me. And this moment later when he had tensed, I too, we
both, tensing. There were things he was to say to me but these times would not come into existence. He saw I was waiting and he waited also. I nodded he nodded, having heard simultaneously, knowing
there was not sleep and what was to happen from this moment

but of course his judgment vindicated. And when he raised his arm we were moving from there so very quickly. Yes it was then, as we moved from that abandoned old place, that first explosion, I
was behind him. We separated. If he said something further, I do not think so, if he did so, it is that I forget it, I had been tired, we both of us, I do not know, perhaps, I may not have heard
it, I have said so, that I did not see him again.

43
“letter fragments”

I hoped all might be well with her. I do not know what to say, nor then, to her. We should play together and I should take you on long walks. Do you have your friends? It is
good to have friends. In the future this will be past and I shall be home with you. Do you see mountains from the window? In the mountains one can walk and see no one after miles. If one

Other books

2 On the Nickel by Maggie Toussaint
Bodies of Light by Lisabet Sarai
02 Unforgivable - Untouchable by Lindsay Delagair
Chasing Butterflies by Beckie Stevenson
The Makeshift Marriage by Sandra Heath
The Fall of the Stone City by Kadare, Ismail