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7 /y t 5.4 5 on the morning of that fateful day , 13t h August 1931, / A n a t the end of a radiant dawn, the entire city was shaken fro m ^ / CJ^en d t o end by a horrendous explosion. Doors and windows were blown in by the rush of air, accompanied by the crash of glass as it shattered into thousands of razor sharp splinters. The population, terrified and gripped by panic, came out into the streets in their underclothes or whatever garment they had to hand. Cries mingled with incoherent exclamations. No one knew what was happening. It wasn' t long , however , befor e new s sprea d lik e wildfire . Th e ammunition dum p on the top of the Guia, near the Fonte da Solidao, had exploded. Ther e were dead an d injured an d the terrifying ris k o f furthe r explosions, fo r par t o f th e dump , defende d b y a thick wal l an d ful l o f munitions, was still intact. The devastation was frightful. Th e Governor's elegant summer palace, better known a s the Palacete da Flora, the Barracks an d the neighbourin g houses were all reduced to rubble, as was the Long Tin quarter. Collapsed walls, twisted metal, beams, roof tiles, bricks, blocks of stone and masonry, trunks and branches of trees, shards of glass scattered alon g the streets , all bore witnes s t o the extent o f the explosion. Th e Fonte d a Inveja spring , destroyed, bubbled up out of the ground, turning the earth to mud. The wall round the Lu Kao Garden3 was cracked here and there, but fortunately ha d protected the little lakeside palace and pavilions, with only a few tree s blown down. Half of the Estrada da Victoria and the Vasco da Gama Garde n wer e lai d waste . In the Campal an d Tap-Seac quarter , th e damage was also considerable. Scattered al l over thi s ravaged area , ther e wer e thousand s o f empt y cartridge case s from bullet s an d shell s o f variou s types . It was sai d tha t 3. No w known as the Lou Lim Iok Garden . THEBEWITCHINGBRAI D4 1 some o f them dated fro m th e Great War. Later, th e larger one s woul d b e used a s umbrell a stand s an d othe r smalle r one s woul d b e turne d int o household ornaments by the city's jewellers. It was a day when people lived in a climate of terror, while waiting fo r fresh explosions , under the heat of an unbearable, scorching sun. The dead amounted t o twelve Portuguese, includin g a n African sentr y a t the dum p who had been blown t o pulp, and fifty-two Chinese . The injured totalle d just ove r a hundred officially , bu t man y mor e wer e treate d a t home an d therefore wen t unrecorded. A disaster an d a tragedy suc h a s the city ha d never known before . By the end of the day, the nightmare gradually receded. The danger of more explosions had passed. The following day, the city regained its serenity and life went on. Now, there was just the sad task of burying the dead. Two funerals too k place, first tha t of the Portuguese together, and later, that of the Chinese. The heart-rending scenes witnessed by the townsfolk remaine d engraved i n the memory o f those wh o lived throug h it , until time , in it s implacable way, diluted it and other generations took their place. But what happened to Adozindo during this sequence of events ? The night before, he had gone to bed bathed in sweat, after a day of pitiless sunshine that had castigated the trees, streets, dwellings and people. Everyone was complaining about that suffocating August, which the typhoon on the first of the month had failed to relieve, bringing with it instead yet more heat. Even though the windows were open, the air in his room was stifling . Because of the mosquitoes, he had lowered the net, and the artificial breez e produced by the noisy fan couldn't reach him freely throug h the thin gauze. He was...
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