Ah, Those Young White Men in Suits and Ties
- Ah, Those Young White Men In Suits And Ties
It was yesterday at noon, understand? I was going on my walk, there on Independence Street. When I saw that the police were following me, I stopped in order to be certain that I had gone out with my identification papers, you know? I put my hand in my pocket and pulled them out. Everything was there: professional papers, identification card, social security card, and other documents. They didn’t have a way. They passed by me. They didn’t say anything. Yes, there were two. Exactly. They were uniformed, with clubs and revolvers in their holsters. But, as I was saying, they went away. Then I remembered that it was necessary to pay on an account at the Bank of the People’s Sweat that was right on that street. I went. I walked a little and arrived there. Wow! There was a line longer than a child’s tapeworm. What was I to do? I got on the tailend, and I went at a snail’s pace. In front of me a couple was conversing. The guy was one of these . . . . What do you call one of those guys that talks about himself? Oh yes, that’s it: an executive. He seemed to be. All dressed in a three piece suit and tie . . . an ugly one. But he was inexperienced. A strapping young fellow, wanting to be a man. The girl seemed to be poorer, with jeans and a t-shirt. I don’t even know what he said before. But I heard this very well. And he spoke loudly. In this way:
“Brazil is not getting ahead because of blacks and people from Bahia. Those people are the reason for our being behind. The government ought to finish them all off. . . .”
What kind of thing is that to say? I am black, and I’m from Bahia. I have been in São Paulo for twenty years, but I’m a Bahian. But the smartass said more. I heard it with these ears that don’t miss a thing. He said it like this:
“If I were the government, I would do the same thing to those Blacks and Bahians that Hitler did to the Jews.”
My blood boiled. I hit the so-and-so on the shoulder. When he turned around, I spit in his face!!!
But, Your Honor, I swear to you, I didn’t do anything else. I have a witness. The so-and-so died right then of a heart attack.
Carolyn Richardson Durham ©1995
- Ah, Esses Jovens Brancos De Terno E Gravata! . . .
Foi ontem meio dia, tá entendendo? Eu ia indo na minha caminhada, ali na Rua da Independênça. Quando eu vi que os guarda tava me seguindo, parei pra ter certeza que tinha saido com os dicumento, num sabe? Meti a mão no bolso e tirei. Tava tudinho ali: profissional, RG, CIC, o cacete! . . . Eles ficaram sem jeito. Passaram por mim. Num disseram nada. Sim, eram dois. Isso! Tavam fardado e de cacetete, e revólver na cintura. Mas, como eu ia dizendo, eles se foram. Aí lembrei que precisava pagar uma conta no Banco Suor do Povo, que fica justamente naquela rua. Fui. Caminhei um tanto e cheguei lá. Vixe! Tinha u’a fila comprida que nem lombriga de criança. Fazê o quê. Peguei a rabeira e fui naquele passinho de tartaruga. Na minha frente tinha um casalzinho conversando. O fulano era um desses . . . Como é que fala mesmo? Ah, sim, isso: executivo. Parecia. Todo de terno e gravata, mali-nha . . . Mas era novo. Molecão querendo ser homem. A moça parecia mais gente pobre, calça de brim, camiseta. Eu num sei bem o que ele falou antes. Mas isso eu escutei muito bem. E o sujeito falou alto. Desse jeito:
O Brasil não vai pra frente por causa desses preto e desses baiano. Essa gente é que é o nosso atraso. O governo devia acabar com tudo eles . . .
Isso é coisa que se diga? E eu sou preto e sou baiano! Tenho vinte anos de São Paulo, mas...
