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1 /y dozind o hailed fro m th e Largo de Camoes, so he was a true ///-\ so n o f th e Sant o Antonio quarte r o f ol d Macao . The sam e *_/ C-^wen t fo r his parents and his other closest relatives. He lived in a large yellow house with a long balcony that overlooke d the square, enjoying th e shade of huge red acacias. In summer, from earl y morning, it was bathed i n the twittering o f birds in the Poet's garden , th e cry of the cicadas, mixed wit h the crowing of the cockerel. In winter, th e house groaned under the weight of the humidity and with the sadness of an empty, grey and nondescript square, where street-vendors plied their wares with their doleful ditties . He was an only son in a house full of women — his mother, his maternal granny an d aunts , on e of who m wa s a spinster an d th e other a widow, a female cousi n who was the widow's daughter, and three maids. According to some, that was why his father, a former functionary of the Chinese customs house and now the owner of a shipping agency , would shu t himself away , when he was at home and after family prayers, to read in his study, exhausted by the chattering and prattling of the womenfolk fro m daybreak until night time. From an early age he had heard people say how handsome he was. And this was indeed true. As an infant, his pretty cheeks made folk want to pinch them; he was a light-skinned child, with green eyes, maybe inherited fro m his Dutch great-grandmother; an d with his brown hair, he was the pictur e of a grandfather fro m th e North of Portugal. He should have been born a girl, people said. Yet he hadn't turned ou t a sissy, in spite of his face. On the contrary, he demonstrated manly qualities from a n early age, scuffling wit h fists an d footwork, wit h bigger lads than himself wh o tried t o make fun o f his milksop's physique , whether i n th e Largo de Camoes or at school. And s o he gre w u p amon g wome n wh o dote d o n him . H e was ver y clean and took great care with his appearance. A mark on his suit, the merest 10HENRIQU EDESENNAFERNANDES crease in his shir t were enough to produce a crisis. His shoes had to shin e like a mirror, without a trace of dirt. He was painstaking in the time he took to wash, springing from th e bathtub, smelling like a garden flower . When he did his hair, he would use two brushes and three combs, each for a different purpose , in a ritual that only he understood and carried out to the letter. Nothing would make him shorten the time it took, and he refuse d to be hurried in any way. He was proud of the silkiness of his curly, wavy hair, o f hi s straigh t nose , o f th e roundness o f hi s cheekbone s tha t cam e from hi s Chinese side, of his shapely lips and his magnificent ro w of teeth. In fact h e was proud o f ever y aspec t o f his physical appearance . Havin g finished seein g to his hair, his clothes and his shoes, he would look lovingly at himself i n the mirror, and murmur with heartfelt conviction : 'Oh! God! Thank you for making me so handsome!' As he grew up, his natural good looks became even more noticeable . He didn' t ge t involve d i n fisticuffs , whic h ha d bee n suc h a commo n occurrence i n his childhood, no t because he had become a cowardly lad . Far from it . He was just scare d that in the heat of a fight, someon e migh t become overzealou s i n hi s punchin g an d kicking , an d spoi l hi s facia l harmony. A girl woul d no t hav e examine d wit h suc h car e ever y aspec t o f he r physiognomy. He even went as far as to assert...
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