The Peacock 297

 "Where did you get to?" he asks, still smiling.

"How long have I been gone?"

"Nearly an hour.  Where did you get to?"

"Sorry I didn't stick around for clean up."

"You are not obligated.  Where did you get to?"

"Where did I get to?"

"You were off property, weren't you?"

"And what if I was?"

"You were warned, weren't you?"

"I wasn't gone that long, was I?"

"Nearly an hour.  And we were getting worried.  Now, Christopher, please, tell me, where did you get to?"

"I went out past the tulip beds, and instead of turning right in the direction of the magnolia, I simply stayed on the path."

"And then where did you get to?"

"It all turned to forest, there was an opening in the fence, and I kept going on the trail.  It continued for some time, and then it led out onto a clearing, this beautiful meadow full of flowers, lupin and daisies.  And in the middle there was a cabin."

"Did you enter the meadow."

"For some reason I was scared to, so I came back.  I thought you would explain it to me."

"Me", says Carl, smiling then shaking his head.  "No, not me."

"Why not?"

"Because I've never been there..."

The Peacock 296

 I fear getting lost.  Well, naturally.  The horror stories of lone hikers, always totally inexperienced, that wander off the trails in the local mountains here and then the taxpayers must shell out yet thousands of dollars more for the recue operations that risk life and limb to save their unworthy asses.  But I haven't really wandered off that far, but still off the property, but I already see the gateway in the fence that I passed on my way out.  But I am also feeling somehow defiled by this venture, as though I just walked into something unclean and dangerous.  I'm not sure what to say to Carl, except that I can probably expect a good scolding, because at the very beginning we were all warned to stay on the property.  But I have always wanted to know what is out there, beyond.  I have always needed to know.  I have never enjoyed feeling confined and for anyone to tell me to not go anywhere for me is just the ticket of passage.  

Yes, I know the place now, I am coming out into the landscaped area.  Here are the tulip beds, and on the left, the trail to the magnolia.  I think I'll skip it for now.  Better to return to the house, confess all to Carl and get my scolding.  Bless me, Carl, for I have sinned.  And I am feeling really bad about this, hectored almost, and that yes, I must expect punishment. I have disobeyed.  Maybe I'll be asked to leave.  But I can't leave this place, and I really hope that Carl forgives me, and why am I getting so worked up about this, but this remorse keeps digging it's cold sharp claws into me, and I have to confess.  I see George and Jeff walking quietly together by the irises.  They seem very close.  I wonder what they are really about.  They don't seem to see me and now that I see the house in plain view, I have to get back, and there is Carl seated on the verandah staring out from a rocking chair, looking directly at me, with rather a bemused smile on his face.

"Oh, there you are", he says, "I was starting to worry."

"I pause, as though waiting to be summoned onto the scaffold.  With his hand Carl gestures to the empty chair next to him.  As I seat myself, I can already feel myself trembling, and I have to choke back the tears....

The Peacock 295

 Kenny used to say that the forest is one single, entire and incredibly complex organism.  And that most people treat it like wallpaper.  I see his point.  This place is alive, and every tree has for me presence.  I feel like a visitor in someone else's house, and this is very humbling to me.   The salmonberries won't be ready for a couple of weeks yet, but I can see some are already beginning to turn colour.  Kenny and I used to wander an entire June or July day in the Endowment Lands near where we lived, stuffing our gullets with berries.  The forest always seemed to transform him.  I think it has also been transforming me.  I often feel, while I'm in there, like I shouldn't leave, that I have found my true home, where I have really lived since time immemorial. And also here, in this forest, but it still feels tainted, as though there is a thin slightly acrid film adhering to the leaves and branches and tree trunks.  I really want to know what it is about this place, but now I am almost at the clearing.  I wonder what Kenny would make of this place, or of my intuition.  He would probably tell me it's all in my head.  He had both a mystical and an incredibly scientific view of nature.  He would just say that simply by being the forest that that makes it sacred, that makes it pure and clean, that makes it holy.  So, maybe I am in a holy place here but a holy place that has still been defiled by something evil and sinister.  

I am going to ask Carl about this place, when I get back, and I really shouldn't stay out here for very long.  I think I might be already off the property, but I don't think I'm going to get lost, since there is only this one trail so far, but here is this clearing, like a field, or a meadow rather, and this place is full of flowers, blue violet lupin and big white and yellow daisies especially, and what is that in the middle?  A cabin?  Out here?  But where else?  But I don't want to go there yet. not alone, and now this is getting extremely creepy, and how quickly I reverse my direction and now I am almost running back to the property, and back to the house, and back to the safety of this strange and half crazy family I have stumbled into....

The Peacock 294

 There is a sense of peace in the air today, as though when Doug left, or was taken away, that he must have taken with him that awful dark energy.  Funny, I never would have guessed except now that  it is gone, it feels so much different here.  Lighter.  I have noticed another trail here that will take me, I hope, much further out on the property.   And maybe beyond.  I really don't want to go back for a while to the mansion, I mean. Too much intensity.  I came here to rest.  Some rest.  All I get is drama and more drama, and my own big fat emotional meltdown to boot.  This is really quite different from what I was expecting.  Which is to say,  a lot of quiet time to walk in the garden and the forest, to think, pray, meditate and sleep, and eat really good food and to have conversations with interesting people.  Well, that has been happening in spades, all right.   Those three ladies are especially interesting.  I really wonder how three obviously intelligent and totally sane women could have possibly stuck it out here, especially under the holy dictatorship of that Douglas guy.  Librarians, all three of them.  Well, that makes sense, sort of.  I wonder what Maureen has done with her house, if she's sold it, or still owns it, maybe is renting it to a tenant, or who only knows.

I wonder what's going to become of Douglas.  He'll probable get institutionalized.  He appears to have burned all his bridges, as Dad used to say.  And then Father Griffin with his little cameo appearance.  Too bad he didn't stay, but Carl was right to tell him to leave.  His treatment of Father Francois, and that is how I want to think of him from now on, was absolutely inexcusable.  He actually became Douglas's slave, but how could that happen?  But everyone says that he had a supernatural power over them and that his word was law.  Even Carl seemed reluctant to intervene.  But Melissa?  What is that woman made of anyway?  She brought down the holy tyrant.  I have  nothing but respect for her.  And a certain fear.  She is someone on whose  bad side I do not want to wake up on.  Not that I'd want to imagine waking up on any side of Melissa.  Don't want to go there.  It´s still only ten or so, lots of time.  This trail just seems to go on and on, and on, but I think I see a clearing up ahead....

The Peacock 293

 "The thing is", Francois says, "Douglas is mentally ill.  We all know it, we all knew it, but instead of doing anything we just, for the most part, became his slaves.  Especially me.  What I can't understand is, how did that happen.  Especially to me." he is becoming heightened with emotion and appears to be choking back tears.  "Especially to someone like me!  I could see it coming, but it was like a rat cornered by a pit viper.  I could only stand there paralysed, waiting to be swallowed, waiting to become his next meal.  This has been so hideous."

"How are you right now, Francois?" says Melissa.

"I'll be okay.  But this is going to take time", he says, composing himself.  "This is just going to take some time."

"I suggest we all adjourn for now", says Carl.  "This has all been pretty intense, and I think for now we need to be really gentle with ourselves and with one another.

"I heartily agree", says Carol, reaching for another biscuit.

Maureen says, "Are we still all gathering at two?"

"I'd say we might as well", concurs Melissa.  "Might as well start figuring out our future."

Before anyone can pressgang me for clean up I am already out the door, on my way to the garden, for a good solitary walk, and perhaps to go look again for that ever elusive peacock...

The Peacock 292

"Isabel was a real trigger for him", Sarah says.  "She brought up too much of a past he wanted to forget and leave completely behind, and she felt too threatened by him to not overreact whenever they were in the same room together.  And she reminded him of a past he was not able to leave behind.  He started to become dominant, and seemed to acquire this hideous strength and unstoppable charisma, and that was being fed by the really weird spiritual dynamic that seems to be at work in this place.  Everyone soon gathered round him, leaving Jennifer high and dry, since her very effective leadership just wasn't sexy enough anymore.  Isabel began to have mental health problems, becoming depressed with prolonged weeping spasms.  She had to get out of here for her own safety, but with the cartel being after her there was no refuge for her.  I do hope she is okay now."

 "She is safe", Carl says "Does she want us to know yet where she is, Mel?"

"She says she doesn't dare.  But she says she is safe and quite happy where she is.  And I believe her."

"But he still was okay, for the first eighteen months", says Maureen, "if a little, shall we say, controlling?''

"Pope Douglas", mutters Jennifer.  "He knew better than to cross swords with me, so we simply stayed out of each other's way, and I simply ignored him."

"Have you forgiven him?" Sarah asks.

"Not yet I haven't."  She pauses for a prolonged draught of coffee, puts the cup down, then looks up at everyone again.  "That will come eventually.  I couldn't help but feel pity for him today, seeing him like that in his bedsheet toga and bare feet.  I almost wanted to cry, so I think I am just beginning this journey of forgiveness."

Francois just holds Jennifer in a calm, steady and prolonged stare.  Then he gets up and reaches for a cookie, and sits down again...

The Peacock 291

Pausing between cookies, or biscuits, as she likes to call them, Carol says, "And please, what was meant by these 'Little Ones'?"

"Carol, you really want to make my head hurt today", Aaron says, smiling wearily.

"The book, Lilith," says Carl, "Was George Macdonald's final work of literature, written in 1895.  it's about a wealthy young Scot, having just inherited the family estate, ends up on an adventure in a parallel dimension populated by very unusual individuals, among them a colony of children who are joy and innocence personified.  Those are what he would have been referring to, don't you think, Aaron?"

"We read the book together while we were both sharing the old farmhouse.   We came to personify others whom we thought might be closer to God with that colony of children."

"He used to call us, Carl and me, little ones", Melissa says.

"And he is absolutely right", says Carol, who still hasn't picked up another cookie, or biscuit.  Could she be...sated?  "You are both so delightful."

Maureen says, "He wanted to be like that, Douglas.  He came to confide in me a lot.  He never believed he could ever put his past behind.   He didn't believe that even God could forgive him."

"What awful things did he do?"

"He had been a former member of the same cartel that Isabel was part of.  And Aaron, he did come clean with me.  When he joined you in your Christian ministry many years ago, he was working with that group, and the intention was to destroy you and your work for Christ.  Fortunately, you were too effective a channel of God's grace for that to happen.  But he still never worked through any of his baggage, and it did eventually destroy him, I'm afraid..."

The Peacock 290

 "I think I already touched on that", Aaron says.  I mean the God wiping his ass for him metaphor.  He simply never was one for accepting responsibility.  For anything.  He was kicked out of the residential hotel where he was living because he couldn't stop beating up any tenant who got on his nerves.  He ended up chronically homeless, and I only heard a bit about him, then nothing.  I really thought for many years that he was dead, since I couldn't imagine anyone surviving long with his kind of mentality.   I only found out last year that he was living here, and fortunately we didn't actually have to see each other.  Carl explained to me that Father Griffin actually rescued him from the street about five years ago, helped him get housing, but even then he was often threatening his neighbours with violence, so Robert got the brilliant idea of bringing him out here.  Carl?"

"Doug and I had some very interesting chats the first few days he was with us.  He talked a lot about you, Aaron, about how you taught and mentored him and showed him how to be a true follower of Jesus.  It was this embarrassing hagiography,  he didn't have one single bad word to say about you.  He practically worshipped you."

"That is just really painful to hear.  What kind of shape was he in?"

"He seemed to be already coming around.  Life on the street of course had prematurely aged him.  He loved  to teach, often with his own invented parables.  Especially anything that had to do with a seed as metaphor.  He really liked to gather 'round the kiddies for one of his evening wisdom talks after dinner.  He appeared to thrive on this. And he did have some interesting things to say.  He ofen referred to us all as 'Lttle Ones', not exactly as children but it was an image he got from one of the books he told me that you guys used to read together."

"Oh, yes", says Aaron.  "Lilith, by George Macdonald."

"That happens", I say, "to be one of the books that Robert gave me to read while I am staying here..."

The Peacock 289

 "I can understand exactly how she must have felt", says Aaron.  "I have often wanted to send him to his reward, myself.  But today, no.  You know, everyone, this is the first time we have actually seen each other in around seventeen years.  That was when I ran into him at Beaver Lake in Stanley Park.  I was just sitting on a bench there, enjoying the ducks and there he was on his bike.  Looking already much the worse for wear.  We did talk for a while.  He was staying in an SRO just a block or two from where I was and still am living.   Compared to him, I turned out rather well, and I am still in the same apartment.  It is a small bachelor in a subsidized building, but it's well managed, quiet, and safe, and basically, despite occasional concerns about my housing providers, it has been going really well.  But I recommended to him the person who helped me find my apartment, a rather famous housing activist who has helped a lot of people.  He treated my suggestion with disdain and said that God would take care of him.  Usual spiritual arrogance. and delusion. It was his tendency to try to blackmail God into wiping his ass for  him instead of just providing the money to buy toilet paper.  and we can guess how far he got with that.  Really, I wasn't expecting to see him so completely broken."

"Are you feeling disappointed?" Carl asks.

"That there was no closure?  No, closure with that person does not exist.  He's always been too slippery for closure.  I feel only towards him right now a mixture of disgust and pity.  But I'm glad he's gone, and I hope he gets the care he needs.  At least they'll keep him quiet with meds."

"He was really good for a while", Maureen says.  "He really wanted to serve God, and I think he really wanted to be a good leader."

"I hope you are speaking for yourself", Jennifer mutters bitterly.

"That is the only person I can speak for."  she says primly.

"Can anyone explain to me please just how he turned so bad?"  I ask....

The Peacock 288

 "During the offertory hymn, which is often a time of high spiritual presence and awe, I began to hear a whimpering behind me, and soon it became a loud anguished keening.  I turned around and there was Isabel, weeping wildly and completely out of control.  I sat next to her, put my arm around her, and sat with her as she calmed down, till the end of the service.  She asked me to please forgive her, and all she could say was please Jesus forgive me, and please forgive me, I was supposed to kill you, and now I can't and I have to get out of this, but they'll kill me if they find me, and then she started convulsing again with more weeping.  Father Griffin came over, and together we stayed with her, and then we both went into the chapel together, where she confessed everything.  The Network, or cartel, the satanism, the drug trafficking and the murders.  She asked if we were going to turn her over to police, but instead Robert offered her protection.  They managed to find for her a room in the clergy house.  And she and I began to lay out plans for getting us all out of that house, because we were next on their victim list.  I didn't say anything because I really didn't want to frighten anyone.  I'm sorry, I should have been more forthcoming."

"We understand, Sarah.  You were very brave", says Maureen.

"Thank you, Sarah", says Jennifer.  "Yes, we understand.  Thank you,so much."

"Where is she now?" asks Aaron.

"She's okay", says Melissa.  "She texts me occasionally.  I don't know where she is, and she doesn't want anyone to know.  But she is safe."

"And she left because of Doug?"

"Carl helped her get out", "She was really afraid of killing him."

The Peacock 287

 "Wait a minute", says Carl. "Did any of you actually know Robert?"

"I did", says Sarah.  "I was attending St. James back in the day."

"That's where I know you from ", I interject. 

"Oh, that's right", she says to me.  "That's why you look familiar.  And now here we are?  Small world, eh?"

Then Sarah says, "By the way, I might as well 'fess-up now.  "I also already knew Isabel."

"I do say", says Carol, between mouthfuls of a vanilla cream.

"And you never told us anything", says Jennifer.  "Sarah!  Explain, please."

"Isabel followed me one day to St. James."

"What!" says Maureen, thoroughly dumbfounded.

"Just after Jean-Pierre started staying with us.  She was standing well away from the bus stop, looking at her phone.  I didn't even think she was waiting for the bus, but she got on right after me, and then sat two seats away, just behind me.  I could literally feel her eyes on me.  When I got off to transfer downtown, she got off too.  She got on the same bus, the Number Seven Nanaimo.   This time she sat right behind me.  I was starting to feel rather creeped, to say the least.  I was beginning to feel nervous, so I got off a couple of stops early.  She followed me.  I arrived at the church for Sunday high mass,  and Isabel sat down just two rows behind me..."

The Peacock 286

"Ah, yes, Isabel", says Carl.

Maureen says, "She just came to the door the day after Jean Pierre's death.  It was Saturday morning.  Dressed all in black, but very smartly dressed.  She introduced herself and said that she urgently had to talk to us about the recent happenings. She is Colombian, as most of us here already  know.

"Caramba!  all these Colombians!" interjects Jesús, smiling  

"She cut to the chase, telling us we were all in danger, that she herself had just escaped from the group, that they were a satanic network of drug dealers and murderers, and also the most ruthless killers that ever walked the face of the earth.  Worse, they had tentacles and plants and members in all positions of government and society, and though based in Colombia, they were an international cartel.  She said she had already made arrangements with Father Griffin to drive her out here, and insisted that we join her, given our imminent danger.  So, she phoned him, and he was there in fifteen minutes.  We only packed what we really needed.  But we also gathered together all the perishable food to donate to the community.

"And it was all delicious" says Melissa.

"So, that is how we all came here, in need of a place of refuge", says Maureen.  "Jennifer, with her many gifts, became the de facto leader, then Doug darkened our doorway less than two years later, and such conflict ensued that Isabel opted to leave.  We don't know what became of her, no one has heard anything from her, but we all believe she is okay, wherever she is..."

The Peacock 285

 Jesús says, "That is the same network that is after me.  And Jean Pierre, by the way, is Colombian.  I know him."

"Yesterday", says Carl, "Jesús was telling us at lunch about some of his own experiences, and apparently their way of telling someone that they were marked was by leaving a small skull at their door."

"And that is why I am here", he says.  "I knew Jean Pierre, whose real name is Luis, he was spending time with my friend Esteban, giving him lots of information about his group, but then turned against him, and likely killed him, and his girlfriend.  But they are also here in Canada.  They are criminals yes, but they appear also to practice black magic.  I know it is Jean Pierre, because that is how he died.  That is how they all die.  No one can trace the cause.  They simply stop living and die."

"This is downright creepy", says Melissa, grabbing for a Celebration biscuit.  

"Quite" agrees Carol, cramming into her mouth yet another Peek Freens fruit cream.   "And oh, I just love these cream biscuits.  Aren´t they exquisite!"

"So, what happened after?" Carl asks. 

Jennifer says, "Well, we were all being followed.  Stalked."  They were stationed outside our house, they were following us home, and if we tried to confront them, they simply said nothing and walked away.  It was so disturbing.   We were under surveillance. and worse, there were the dead birds.  One morning I discovered a dead Steller's jay on the doorstep. A few days later it was a robin.  Then it was a flicker.  For me, I love birds, that was just too much.  I was the first to really crack, and poor Maureen and Sarah had to bear me up while I was a weeping and wailing mess.

Then there was that idiot who decided to sit on the bench in our back yard.  With a big machine gun on her knee.  No need to worry, Precious, she said with a Spanish accent, we are only making sure you are safe.  She didn't otherwise threaten me.  I simply ran into the house and then collapsed weeping.  Police were called, but then she was gone, and yes, she was dressed all in black.

"And then she came to our door..."

The Peacock 284

 "While in prayer, we all had a sense of peace about what was happening.  We did have to acknowledge to one another, before Christ, that we had made a grave mistake in letting Jean Pierre into our lives, but also that the consequences would push us into something new, and to simply accept what was coming our way.  For a week, the anonymous door knocking continued.  No matter what questions we had for him, Jean Pierre disclosed nothing, but he did say that we were all in great danger, and that for our sake he would have to leave.  He felt he was putting us in danger. Neither was there any guarantee that we would be safe with his leaving us.   Six nights later, there was another knock on the door.  Ten knocks, loud, imperious, demanding.  Then the knocking resumed.  Jean Pierre went towards the dor.  Stay back, he shouted, when he saw us trying to accompany him.  We heard voices, male voices, and they were speaking Spanish, I think, which seemed odd, given that Jean Pierre was French-Canadian.  But Jean Pierre did speak in an odd kind of accent, and he did claim to have spent his first twelve years in Argentina,"

"And a couple of times", says Jennifer, "I heard him speak in Spanish on his phone, when he didn't know we were around."

"The next morning", Maureen says, "His body was found in a schoolyard nearby.  They were never able to determine the cause of his death."

"That was when the skulls began to appear", says Sarah.

"Skulls?" asks Jesús.

"Calaveras", Aaron translates for Jesús.

"What kind of skulls?" says Jesús.

Sarah says, "Almost every morning we would find on our front doorstep a little plastic white skull..."

The Peacock 283

 "We invited him for lunch.  He said little this time, and we were concerned that he was suffering from some sort of mental collapse.  Then, towards the end, he said he was not feeling safe in his apartment, that threats were being made against him.  He did not elaborate.  We invited him home with us that night for dinner.  He ended up staying in one of our spare bedrooms.  In the morning he would leave at the crack of dawn, only to return early in the evenings.  He didn't say a lot.  Usually he would sit and watch TV with us,  He did enjoy making popcorn and drenching it with butter.

"In the meantime, our own delicate balance was being affected.  Jennifer wanted him to leave.  Sarah was adamant that he stay with us.  Me, I was neutral, sort of.   One night, we were watching Schitt's Creek, our favourite program,   Then there was a knock on the door,  a loud imperious banging.  I got up to see who it was. I couldn't see anyone through the peephole.  I called out through the closed door, but no one answered.

I returned to the family room.  Jean Pierre looked visibly shaken.  The others wanted to know who it was, and truthfully, I replied that there didn't appear to be anyone there.  Jean Pierre seemed to just shrink into himself, like a snail retiring inside its shell.

About twenty minutes later, there was another knock on the door.  This time no one got up to answer it.  Jean Pierre excused himself and went up to bed.  Then we turned off the TV, and huddled together to pray..."

The Peacock 282

"Jean Pierre didn't show up in the library or surprise us at lunch for a couple of weeks.  We began to feel almost certain that our bickering had frightened him off, and we prayed together frequently in agonized repentance for providing such a disgraceful Christian witness to one of Christ's honoured guests.  We almost conveniently forgot about his evasiveness, about the desecration of the granite cross, and the mysterious car that took him way from us.  "Really, " Maureen continues,  "We were just being like three women desperate for a man."

"Speak for yourselves", says Sarah, cracking another wicked little grin.

Maureen ignores the jibe.  "We were all collectively yearning for him, and to be instrumental to his personal healing and the recovery of his life into Christ, for we knew that he must have fallen into the hands of something evil and malevolent.  We were being archetypal angels, out to save the lost and heal the damaged, not knowing what absolute asses we three were making of our selves."

"Guilty", says Sarah, smiling while raising her hand.

"But the fighting from that night had left a wound, and we were being very delicate with one another, for fear of reopening it again.  All of us dancing on eggshells, we were so neurotic, and no one could really blame us."

"Late one morning, Jean Pierre reappeared in the library.  I was at the collections desk,  He came right over to me.  He looked anxious and frightened, and didn't appear to have slept well..."

The Peacock 281

 "For us three, even though we had our occasional differences of opinion", says Maureen,  "This kind of brutal and bitter squabbling was unheard of. And in front of our dinner guest.  Jennifer was telling Sarah that the fireworks are a waste of time and public funds and harmful to the environment and traumatizing to wildlife, and Sarah was irate because she was the only one here who really wanted to have any fun and here she was living with a couple of killjoys, which is largely true I am afraid to admit, and then me telling them both to behave like adults, and the two of them firing back at me that I always want to control everything around here, and I said, but of course, whose roof are we living under, and then how dare I use my privilege as currency, and on it went, with all kinds of jabs, and bickering and insults and gaslighting.  And there was our guest, just sitting there, apparently enjoying the show.  Sarah was threatening to move out, and Jennifer was telling her good riddance when Jean Pierre announced that it was time for him to go,  We were suddenly all gobsmacked at our incredibly bad manners.  I profusely apologized to our guest, and the other two remained silent, but then they both apologized to me, and then to each other, but by then it seemed almost too late, the damage was already done.

"We went inside the house, and we all begged our guest to please stay for a sip of coffee and some of the wonderful cheesecake that Sarah had baked that day, but he gently insisted that he had already overstayed, and begged us to not see him to the door, but Sarah went with him anyway.  And Sarah will continue from here,"

"Well", said Sarah, between bites taken from a chocolate bourbon cream that she holds delicately between her fingers, "  Jean-Pierre had just closed the door behind him before I could properly say goodbye to him.  But then I heard something rather odd.  There were a couple of voices, male voices, so I looked out the window, and there he was stepping into a big black car that had been obviously waiting there for him.  After they drove away, I went back to tell the others, and suddenly we knew that we had just been spiritually violated..."

The Peacock 280

 "He brought wine and flowers.  An exquisite Bordeaux  and of course roses.  Crimson deep red roses. The wine was rather much to pair with the simple fare we had to offer, various salads and cheese and slices of sausage, but altogether we did have a lovely visit.    We talked about a lot of matters in politics, religion, the church, the state of the nation, the weather and climate change, but two things he seemed almost to be actively omitting: his work as a professor of theology, and the book he was writing. Or I should say three things.  He never once mentioned his ex-wife or daughter.   Sarah asked about his family, but he simply replied that they were in Montreal and seemed in good hands.  Nothing else.  I asked him about McGill, because I did my undergrad there in English.  None of his observations, rather vague and rapidly strung together, corresponded even remotely to what I knew of the place.  He didn't even appear to recognize the name of the head of the theology department, with whom I am still exchanging the occasional email.  I later did some of my own research and asked questions.  No one there had even ever heard of him.

"We sat out in the garden for dinner, since the weather was lovely.  Afterward, we took him on a tour of the place.  There is a particular spot in the garden with benches, where we often sit together and pray.  There is a granite cross there, that a friend had carved for us.  And then, well, tell us what you saw, Jennifer."

Jennifer says, "Well, it appeared that my obsession with birds was about to come in rather handy.  "Jean Pierre suddenly directed all our attention to a rather interesting formation of clouds that the setting sun was just beginning to pass through.  But then, just behind me, I thought I heard a Steller´s jay, so I wanted to have a look.  Just as I turned to look for the bird, there was Jean Pierre pouring some mysterious substance from a tiny flask in his hand in front of the granite cross.  We caught each other's eye, but not wanting to cause a scene, I kept my mouth shut.  That was when Sarah mentioned wanting to go out and see the fireworks, since it was the first evening of the Celebration of Light.  Neither of us wanted to join her, but somehow, it all rapidly deteriorated into one nasty quarrel, with all three of us irrationally squabbling and bickering..."

The Peacock 279

 "He became a regular feature in the library", says Maureen, "Always in the mysticism section, and often pausing to say hi to one of us.  I think he figured out rather quickly that the three of us were friends as well as coworkers.  He very quickly won our confidence as we found him very genuine.  One day, he happened to be walking by the restaurant where we were having lunch  It was a warm summer day, so we were all out on the patio.  He stopped to say hi, and of course we invited him to join us.  He only stayed long enough for a quick sandwich, insisted that he had to go, and after he left we realised that he had paid for all our lunches.    

"That summer, he took to lunching with us once a week.  He claimed to be a professor of theology on sabbatical from McGill University (he was a Montrealer) and was considering making Vancouver his home.  He also claimed to be freshly divorced from his wife by whom he had an infant daughter.  So, of course, he did appeal to our maternal heartstrings, somewhat.  But really a remarkably charming and convivial man.  And incredibly handsome.

"He said he was writing a book about mysticism and sorcery in the Middle Ages, hence his interest in esoteric reading material.  He appeared to find us three quite interesting, given our divergent Christian denominations, and the fact that we not only were colleagues, and not only friends, but also living together in a form of intentional community.

"We invited him for dinner.  It would have been late July, just four years ago..."  

The Peacock 278

 "He just appeared one day, in the library.  He was perhaps in his thirties, dark haired, and one of the most beautiful men we had ever laid eyes on.  He had us all completely spellbound."

Sarah says, "By the way, even I fell under his spell, and I'm a lesbian."

This little personal revelation, of course comes as a complete surprise, because Sarah is so pretty, delicate and feminine, even if she is also completely unadorned with the classic trappings of femininity, no make up, and dressed like a boy in jeans and black T shirt.

"I imagine some of you are surprised to hear this", she says, with a pretty, but rather wicked little grin.

"Oh, I wouldn´t worry my pretty little head, if I were you", Melissa quips.  "I'm completely hetero and I am often mistaken for a lesbian."  

"It is rather ironic, isn't it?" says Sarah, and the way they both smile at each other, it is clear that they like each other.  "But Maureen, I believe you have the mike right now."

"Thank you Sarah", she says. "And it was actually Sarah, whom Jean Pierre first began to talk to."

"You were the bait", says Jennifer, chuckling.

"Jean Pierre approached me, because he was looking for books about mysticism and black magic.  I even wondered if he might be some sort of warlock..."

The Peacock 277

 Maureen continues, "It seemed that I was the only adequately housed person among us.  Jennifer had just escaped from an abusive arrangement and needed a secure place to stay, and Sara's roommates had left her high and dry.  I was living in a beautifully appointed six bedroom home in one of Vancouver's most prestigious neighborhoods.  All alone.  And I was feeling all alone.  Both my friends showed me the kindness of coming to live with me.

"At that time we were each feeling a deep dissatisfaction with our own faith communities, and we felt strongly the need to begin praying together.  Plus, the library had become a refuge for many of the community's broken and homeless.  We really tried, each of us, to befriend some of them, to make them comfortable, and to try to connect them to social and mental health services.  There was a young mother with a baby who could not find room in any of the women's shelters.  We took her home with us.  It went well, they were with us for about six months before housing became available for them, and we are still friends.

"There were others who benefited from our hospitality.  The neighbours were none too pleased and we were being less than subtly accused of endangering them and lowering their property values.  But there were no incidents.  None.  We must have had as many as twenty different folks brought home to rest, heal and recover and get connected with housing.  They were not exactly supportive at the library, and there was concern that we might set a bad precedence, but others, including top management, secretly, and even openly supported us.

"It all went rather well for about three years, and then Satan threw us a curveball.  His name was Jean-Pierre..."

.

The Peacock 276

 Sarah, the youngest of the three women, says, "Everyone's busy with chores right now.  How about after lunch."  She is slender, very pretty with short dark hair and dark eyes and a very nimble way with her hands.  Maureen, now fully composed, looks up and says, "This has been so hard, for everyone."  She has thick greying dark hair that frames her broad and friendly face, and even for the sadness she was expressing, her eyes seem to be smiling from behind her glasses.  She seems both intellectual and maternal.  Probably a librarian.  "I was wondering if I could just say a few words about what has happened, just to provide everyone with a little bit of context, before we adjourn."

"Please do", says Carl. 

"It is hard", she says, "To know just where to begin.  And some of you must be wondering who we are and what we are doing here out in the middle of nowhere.  Let me explain, please, if I may:

"The three of us, Sarah, Jennifer and I, came by this place by the most innocent means.  You see, we all used to work at the Vancouver Public Library, Central Branch, downtown.  That is how we know each other.  I started there when they first opened in their new location in 1995.  Jennifer, I think you started around the time of the Winter Olympics in 2010, and Sarah came about five years later, would that be correct Sarah?"

"Yes, I started just following Ascension Day of that year."

"I was their supervisor.  And we all soon became friends, twice a week going for lunch together.  We did share some interests in common.  We were then, as now, all adherents to the Christian faith.  I was Catholic, Jessica, Lutheran, and Sarah was our Anglican among us.  And then one day, we were all living together, under the same roof.  The house that my late husband had left me.  A large, well appointed home in Kerrisdale..."  

Latin America Again 8

 My host hasn't been working much the last couple of days, so we have been hanging out more.  Yesterday we had coffee in the Arkadia, a fancy-schmancy shopping mall with the lady who helped me find an umbrella last week and her daughter.  I felt a bit nervous at first, for which reason I asked Alonso to join us, but also because I was a bit worried that her daughter might be worried about her mom being befriended by this stranger from Canada.  If it was my mom I'd sure be worried.  Well, there was nothing at all to worry about.  We all got along like the proverbial house on fire.  And we are both invited to their home next week.  Very super friendly women, both mom and daughter.  Diana would be somewhere in her seventies, but looks younger and seems to have the energy of someone half her age.  Her daughter would be perhaps in her early fifties, seems calmer than her mom, but also very friendly and warm.

After our visit, Alonso dropped me off at the apartment on his way to work, and I had lunch, then went out for a long walk.  I hadn't been out more than fifteen minutes when different strangers on the street were trying to get my attention because someone was calling me.  It turned out to be the daughter, who almost bodily dragged me back to the restaurant where she was having lunch with her mom.  Then they wanted to take me back to their home nearby, but I really wanted to walk quietly some more, politely deferred, but we are more or less confirmed for some time next week.

Then I continued walking, this time through quiet neighbourhoods until I began to follow one of the many small rivers that run through Medellín.  These are beautiful tranquil walking routes, full of trees and tropical bushes and flowers, shady, so I kept walking...and walking...and walking....

I had no idea of where I was, but kept getting lost.  But on the street by the river, I came across a pleasant café where I thought I would stop for a cold beverage and do some work on a drawing.  When the young man working there gave me my change, it didn't all fit in my pocket, so one coin rolled on the floor, across the café and under a couch here a young woman was already seated.  She was all prepared to get up and find me the lost coin but it seemed almost irretrievable where it was and I decided to let it rest in piece, so I told them to consider it a blessing for the house, but one of the owners got moving, moved the couch and returned me my coin, which I promptly returned to him as a tip for the server.

When I left the café I was still a little bit lost, then an austere but friendly man named Oscar walked with me four blocks to make sure I would find my way okay.  He also scolded me for not wearing a mask, even though we were outside, so I complied and put it on.  Then today, I learned from Alonso that masks outdoors are mandatory in Medellín.  oh well...

Today I went with Alonso to the mall.  While he was in the gym I went for a long walk in the same area as yesterday, then later we went for coffee to the same café.  We were made to feel very welcome, so I want to keep going back there.  Then we stopped on the way home for lunch in a vegan restaurant near his apartment.

Later I went for a long walk on my own.  There was a big stream of water falling from a roof to the sidewalk and not easy to get around.  Fortunately I had my umbrella with me, so I hoisted it up, walked under the little torrent, and then folded it again, and various people on the sidewalk as well as the guys working on the roof were all smiling and laughing about it.  Well, hey, if I can provide others a little bit of laughter and levity while I am here, then at least I'm being useful.

Otherwise, I have been hanging out with Alonso in the apartment.  He will be on Skype with a friend of his in the US at 8 tonight, and then I will probably be on Skype with a friend in Mexico at 9.

The Peacock 275

 "Francois I am so, so, awfully and profoundly sorry about what happened to you with Doug.  Please, what can I, what can we do to help repair the damage..."

"It's not going to be repaired", he replies.  "And please, that's enough apologizing for one day.  I mean, it's appreciated, but please, we have to move on . What really matters is, he's gone.  They're both gone.  Now, please, let's all move forward, can we?"

I already can feel myself breathing easier, as if some kind of darkness has left this place with Doug,. and I think also Father Griffin.

"I have something I would like to say", says Jeff, the blond brother, "To you Christopher.  If you could please forgive me for the problem I caused you yesterday morning in the garden.  You see, I had just had  a session with Douglas, just as he was going into his seclusion.  He simply turned to me and announced that from now on my name was Edward.  I hated it, and I tried to resist it, but we were all in his thrall, and so his word was law.  So, I'm sorry I was so disagreeable.  Thing is, he was always trying to rename everybody.  It was his way of owning us."

"It´s okay", I reply.  "There's no problem."

"And me, when you saw me in the corridor yesterday morning," says George, the Filipino brother, " I was trying to escape from Douglas, because I had already heard he was calling me to a meeting, and I was hoping that by removing myself I could get away from the power he had over me."

"But what changed? I mean today, he was clearly a broken man."

"Super Melissa to the rescue", says Carl with a great big smile.

"Melissa", says Francois.  "I cannot thank you enough."

Carl's sister simply replies, "Where are the others?  I think it's time for us to hold a general meeting..."

The Peacock 274

 

We are gobsmacked.  I don't think anyone was anticipating this outcome.  First Douglas, now Robert Griffin,  Both gone, both in disgrace.  Exiles.  Absolute disgrace.  Absolute exiles. What happened?  We are all seated here in the reception room, Hardly touching our coffee or Peak Freens or Celebration biscuits.  Aaron appears particularly shaken  I would imagine that with Douglas he was hoping to achieve closure.  But closure is a phantom, forever hoped and longed for, but always elusive.  Kenny used to say that, I think, about reconciling with his past.  He wanted closure.  and eventually admitted that all he could do was hope.  He simply would have to accept the ruins and the rubble, try to build on it, or leave it behind.  So, he left it behind.  And never returned.

The three women all huddle together on the sofa, as though forming their own little refuge.  To my surprise, the one in her forties, Jennifer, seems to want to say something.  She clears her throat.   She is  handsome woman, in rather a plain, unadorned way.  Greying blonde hair held back in a pony tail and a nicely constructed Nordic kind of face.  Her eyes are pale blue, clear, and rather kind.  I could feel very good talking with someone like her.

"I have something I need to say",she says.

"Jennifer", says Carl, "It is always a delight to hear you speak.  What's on your mind?"

"Well, I'm speaking as the de facto leader of the community.  I actually was basically but then Doug completely usurped me.  A complete misogynist who would not take direction from a woman.    And Robert was completely in cahoots with him.  My hands were tied.  I could do nothing...."

Latin America Again 7

 These last couple of days have been rather uneventful, I would imagine, so not a lot to report.  But of course, my mind goes in many interesting directions when I am travelling.  I think it's because all my senses are usually on hyper alert during these times, which can also ruin my sleep for a while.  Alonso, my host and very close friend and I were talking about this yesterday.  The fact is, I would imagine that to some of you anyway, almost every facet of my trip could be interesting, for the simple reason that I m in a foreign county, a South American tropical country, with an incredible history and culture, and a global badass reputation.  

Or to put it succinctly.  Colombia is exotic for the simple reason that it is foreign, or other.  Everything I see here, everyone I see and talk to, to me are fascinating, for the simple reason that they seem so different.  But maybe not.  it is for the same reason that people in Colombia exoticize Canada.  I think what happens in my case is that, by spending a couple of months in a different country, I am learning to really see again the beautiful and scary details that are every bit as present in my own country, but so easy to miss or ignore while getting on with our lives.

Yes, the exotic factor.  Especially in a tropical country.  Think of lush tropical rain forests and mountain cloud forests, Beaches.  Tropical birds and butterflies.  Mountains.  indigenous peoples.  Not to forget the music, cumbia anyone?  And the legacy of Spanish colonization that seems like it's never going to go away, along with the highly stratified social hierarchy and class system, racism, and the chronic presence and influence of the Roman Catholic Church.  Factor in a passionate people, mostly friendly, warm and welcoming whose capacity to celebrate life seems to have no equal.  Think of drug wars, eroticism, and the ever present machismo and toxic masculinity.

But try also to imagine, Gentle Reader, the absolute hard and grinding daily struggle in this country.  The poverty that never goes away.  The huge class inequalities and social injustice.  Colombia has the reputation of being the most unequal country in Latin America.  A government puppeteered by the mafia and drug cartels, a staggering democracy that is still too hobbled by corruption to be really anything close to what the people need.  or how about neighbourhoods of extreme wealth, mansions and gleaming luxury condos and office towers and boutiques and high end malls overshadowing the rambling and jumbled together shacks of desperately poor people, who are feared and loathed by the middle class as dangerous criminals, but for the most part are simply languishing from extreme poverty and no hope of a better life. 

People in this country really have to struggle just to get by.  I think this is also why alcoholism and drug use are so rampant in Colombia.  It's the constant stress of having to cope with corrupt governments and officials who are so manipulated and controlled by the mafia, the drug lords and the military, that there is very little room or emotional energy to consider the needs of the people, especially the poorest and most vulnerable.

And that, Gentle Reader, is my thumbnail sketch of this beautiful and horribly wounded country, full of the most amazing people I have ever had the privilege of knowing.  Colombia.

273

 "I would like to say something, if I may", says Francois.

"I'm sorry", says Father Griffin, "I don't believe we have met."  I can tell he is being dismissive of our African friend.  I can now put my finger on it.  Despite all his Christian and sanctimonious talk, no matter how he claims to have repented, Robert Griffin is a racist.  I see it all over him.

"My name is Francois, and I came here more than six months ago."

"Yes, I see.  And the police wanted you for something?"

Carol erupts, "They only wanted to bother him for being black.  Ignorant, racist idiots!"

"But he must have been impolite to them."

"Excuse me, Robert", says Francois.

"Father Griffin, if you please."

"To me, you are Robert.  And by the way, I also happen to be a priest.  Roman Catholic."

"Is he from the monastery?" says Robert to Carl.

"Robert", says Carl.  "It´s time  for you to leave."  He is not smiling.  I have not yet seen this face on Carl.

"You mean to say you are kicking me out?"

"I am kicking you out.  And when you have repented of your racism, then you will be welcome back."

All eyes are upon Father Robert Griffin.  Knowing that his time is up, he slowly raises himself from the chair, and straight, erect, and hopelessly proud, strides out of the room, out of the house, onto the driveway and into his car.  The driver's door sounds with a bang like cannon fire, and soon we all hear the sound of tires on gravel as he goes far away from this house and from whatever he had in this house, to his own private destination unknown....

The Peacock 272

 "Robert", says Carl.  "Before you reach for your phone to text my mother, I think there is something you need to know.

"I wasn't about to text your mother", he says, putting his smartphone in his jacket pocket.

"Last year, she signed this entire property and house over to me."

"I was never informed."

"Because it's none of your business", says Melissa.

"So, Melissa and I, our word here, in this house, from now on, is law.  And the first thing we have already decided on is the immediate dissolution of the community that you have set up here in the east wing of this house.  Don't worry, anybody, you are not being evicted.  But I am calling you all to come and live with us here, not just secluded in your own little ashram but to participate with my sister and I and with the others here insomuch as they would like to participate, to forming something that is new, and healthier than the toxic cult you have turned this place into.  Anyone who doesn't like the idea is welcome to leave immediately, and I am sure that Father Griffin here will help provide you safe conduct out of here."

"Are you out of your mind?" says Robert.

"Robert, you don't have to stay if you don't want.  Only if you are prepared to agree to our terms."

"I would like to think about it."

"Father Griffin", says Carol, "What you mean to say is what you cannot control is something that you are not going to be part of.  That is correct, is it not?"  She is smiling.

Father Griffin was just getting up as though to leave, but now he sinks back down in the chair, muttering, "This is a mutiny..."

Latin America Again 6

 Not much to report again.  It has been rather a lacklustre kind of day.  Alonso had to leave early this morning, so I stayed home and tried to do laundry, which I could not figure out, especially why there was no water in the washer.  After two cycles of dry and dirty clothes, I texted Alonso, and he was also mystified, and we agreed that I should wait for him to come home before I damaged anything.  I went grocery shopping in the neighbourhood and on the way back started chatting with a man in the neighbourhood.  His name is Mauricio and it turns out he is related to the couple I met yesterday who live across the hall from us.  Then  in the hall, I met Gabriel, an older fellow who lives in another of the three apartments on our floor.  Again, very friendly people here.

I spent time off and on today preparing and cooking red beans and brown rice etcetera for dinner.  Then I went for a longer walk.  There are mountains nearby, and I wanted to see how close I could get to them.  On the way I was walking by one of the many streams and ravines that run through this city.  There were two men sitting nearby, one in his thirties the other perhaps in his fifties.  They seemed down and out, harmless, and friendly and kind souls, so we stopped and chatted a bit, then I gave them some money to buy water because they said they were thirsty.  This by the way, is one of many examples of things I really ought not to do here in Colombia, because there is a very widespread and often irrational fear among the middle class that the poor are dangerous and should be avoided.  But I felt safe with those guys,  Otherwise, I would steer a wide berth.,  Further up the hill and through other neighbourhoods, I was already coming up the mountain, just past the University of Medellín.  This man who looked kind of fragile approached me for money, but something didn't seem right or safe.  He was also carrying a black plastic bag over his arm, and I have no idea if he was concealing anything, so I politely refused and walked well around him.  Then right in the poor barrio, after a couple of beautiful golden red roosters crossed my path I saw various groupings of local guys, and again something did not feel right.  Unsafe actually, so I retraced my steps and returned to one of the high streets, where I gave a lot of coins to an indigenous woman on the sidewalk with her little girl.

I walked home, and Alonso looking all natty in  white shirt and tie as he was preparing  for a job interview on Skype.  This is the first time in the five days I have been here that he has been home in the afternoon, In fact, this will be the first time that I came home while he was present, and not vice versa!  I eavesdropped on the interview, which was all in Spanish, and noted that Alonso was telling the interviewer his age and his marital status and domestic situation, which are considered in Colombia to be legitimate and necessary questions in a job interview, but never in Canada!  We had quite an interesting chat about it after.

And... then my friend helped me with my laundry.  The problem?  I had put the clothes in the dryer instead of the washer!

The Peacock 281

 "Do they have to be here?" says Robert.

"You mean our guests?" says Melissa.

"I hardly think this will do a lot to help facilitate their retreat for them."

"I will ask them", Carl says.  "Chris, Aaron, Carol and Jesús, tell me please, are you bored yet."

Carol replies, "I would hardly imagine that boredom is the appropriate word in this context."

"I think we should all stay", Aaron says.

"Agreed", say I.  "Jesús?"

"Yes.  I want to stay."

"And I am certainly not going to go off somewhere to read a book", says Carol.

"Are you sure?" says Robert.

"Father Griffin", Carol says, "Carl and Melissa are the most gracious, friendly and inclusive hosts, and they have included us in everything.  I do not see why that should have to change on your behest."

"May I remind you that I have spiritual oversight in this place."

"HAD spiritual oversight in this place", says Carl.  "Now stop acting like a sanctimonious turd, sit down and relax, because we have some things to tell you, Robert..."

Latin America Again 5

 Rather an inauspicious kind of day.  This morning Alonso gave me a lift on his way to pick up his first client as far as the local library.  It wasn't open, so I went for a long walk on carrera 76 or Seventy-Sixth Avenue, which is kind of a mixed income and class kind of neighbourhood with tonnes of shops, restaurants, bakeries, and the usual fair of a colombian commercial district.  Unlike in Canada, the Mom and pop shop still seem to be thriving in this country, and it is gratifying to see that people in  the community can continue to operate their small businesses.  One really gets a sense of neighbourhood and neighbourliness here in Medellín.

The traffic is as horrible as ever.  you know, even the loveliest, kindest and gentlest Colombian, once they get behind a steering wheel, suddenly morphs into an ugly raging monster (sorry, Alonso!)  Drivers almost never respect crosswalks or pedestrians and simply getting across the street alive can be a blood sport.   Among the worst are the motorcyclists.

  I have already encountered some, off their bikes, friendly kind and quite pleasant, then as soon as they mount their hog, all pretence of civility and niceness vanishes like a morning summer mist.  

I stopped in a park where the only available space with shade was a bench already occupied but it seemed like there would be enough room for two so I politely asked in Spanish if the gentleman would mind sharing. He was very accommodating, and friendly.  It turns out that he is an American from California who lives part time in Medellín and his Spanish is very good, but he wanted to talk more in English so he told me a lot of the story of his life.  Near my age, retired or semi retired teacher, very warm and friendly, and knows and respects Canadians.  It also turns out that he as well as me uses getting lost in a foreign city as a pretext for meeting the locals.  Who would have guessed?

I stopped in a shaded café for a cold drink.  My favourite in Latin America, Batido de Mora con Leche, or a blackberry milkshake.  Very refreshing and the fellow working there, owner I presumed, seemed rather friendly and good humoured.  I was the only one present, seated by the door, so as he was stepping out to deliver a couple of meals next door he playfully got me to promise I wouldn't leave.  

I eventually walked home, exhausted and underslept.  My sleep always suffers when I travel.  I had some lunch then went down for an hour long nap, then worked on my projects for a while and went out for a shorter neighbourhood walk, where I said hi to or was greeted by a lot of different friendly strangers, including a sweet kitty cat lying on the sidewalk that wanted me to pet him.  On the way up to the apartment in the elevator I had a nice chat with our neighbours across the hall.  Lovely retired couple, Angela and Antonio, and Angela practiced her English with me.  It turns out that she has a sister who lives in Toronto.  I will have to introduce them to my host!

The Peacock 270

 Aaron has a look that appears both very blank and very focussed.  The woman in the orange blouse is still weeping, and the two others are flanking her, hugging and consoling her. Robert Griffin and Carl are having a conversation on the side and Melissa is listening in attentively.  Jesús appears thoroughly overwhelmed and simply sits there staring.  

Carol looks up towards Francois, and says, "Francois, I am so dreadfully, awfully sorry about what just happened to you.  And now I understand how absolutely horrible and inappropriate I was yesterday.  Please, please forgive me. 

"It's alright, Carol", he says.  "I think you understand now."

"How awful it must be for you."

"It happens all the time.  To all of us.  In a way we get used to it.  In other ways, we never get used to it."

Melissa wheels out a trolley of coffee that is still brewing, and a couple of plates of packaged cookies.  

"Sorry I haven't had time to bake something", she says, "This has all been  pretty sudden.  But these are Peak Freens variety creams and Celebration, so they´re still pretty good.

I have just learned that the lady in the orange blouse is named Maureen.  She seems to be calming down.  Melissa pours a cup of coffee that is still brewing and loads a small plate with cookies, which she brings over to Maureen, setting them in front of her on the coffee table.

"Thank you, Melissa", she whispers, now somewhat composed.

Carl announces to all of us, "We all have some things we need to talk about. May I suggest we begin in five minutes?"

Latin America Again 4

 I imagine I should start entering the date.  Today is the first day of September, Wednesday, 2021.  This will be my fifth day in Latin America, and my third day in Colombia.

Late this morning Alonso, my host, took me in his car into Poblado, which is a very well-to-do barrio of Medellín.  Check this YouTube video if you want to have a look.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zn84zk6NgXQ

Alonso was on his way to work, and the idea was he would drop me off there and I would walk back to the apartment, only a two hour stroll and change.  Just in case you are getting the idea that my friend is cruel and sadistic, it was actually my idea.  I would have time to explore the area a bit, and since I enjoy walking everywhere, I thought I would try my luck returning on foot without getting too seriously lost.

He dropped me off in a particularly beautiful area, with parks, lots of greenery, murals and other public art, and lots of high end cafés and restaurants and bars.  So I wandered around, trying to get my bearings, then found my way to a park by a rushing torrential river.  There is an elegant café there overlooking the river.,  I stopped in for a coffee and chocolate croissant, which was rather weird because the croissant was black through and through with chocolate syrup and chopped nuts.  I have eaten better.  

The cafe at first seemed lovely, but then I began to feel a bit uneasy there.  My first thought was this: on our way up to Poblado today we passed through a very poor and dangerous neighbourhood that just reeked of destitution and squalor.  And this is just a few short miles away.  I really thought of the extreme social and economic inequality in Colombia, and before anyone reading this gets smug, it might not be as grave a situation in Canada, but it has gotten a lot worse in recent years, so we don't have anything to crow about.

If having those thoughts spoiled my lovely elegant café experience, then I am alright with that.  I have the right to not enjoy something that is simply pretty, but also void of meaning or social value.  I can't say that I had a very positive impression of the other customers, who just seemed like well-off jerks, very white and in some cases American.  Now one doesn't have to be well-off or American to be a jerk, but it can sure help sometimes.  I still rather like the place and might come back, if only to prick my conscience a bit more.

I began the trek back to Alonso's neighbourhood.  It took me past a number of indigenous persons, often families, all very poor, who come into Poblado to sell handicrafts or other stuff, or to beg.  I am glad they are there.  To remind people.   I did give some money, the equivalent of around three bucks Canadian to a woman seated on the sidewalk with her little girl.  Then I exited Poblado, which is up in the hills, going downhill through very heavy traffic.  On the way I saw some black ibises, an interesting wading bird. 

I soon was a bit lost, and again asked a series of strangers for directions.  Everyone seemed kind and wanted to be helpful, but few were really much help, but eventually two separate individuals were able to help me get back on my route.  I still enjoy this way of engaging with locals, because it gives me a bit of an entry into their lives, and sometimes we stop and chat and even become friends.  I stopped at another cafe in the big fancy-schmancy shopping mall I was in yesterday, then on the way back stopped to chat with a man from Cali who sells candy on the sidewalk, and bought some more from him.  I have since been back in the apartment, taking care of the usual stuff.

The Peacock 269

 "Would you like to come with us too, young lady?" says the cop.

"I happen to be older than you.   And besides, it's him that you want", she says, pointing to Doug.

"Huh?" says the cop, looking and sounding very stupid right now.

"That's Francois, the victim.  I already told you their names on the phone, three times", says Melissa.  "Remember?"

"You didn't tell me that he was black."

"And what difference is that supposed to make?"

"You're name's Francois?" says the cop.  "That happens to be my father's name.  What's a black guy doing with a French name?"

"I was born and raised in Montreal", Francois says coolly.

"Can you show me some id?"

"Chad, just cool it, eh?" says the senior cop.  "We already got our man", he says looking at Doug.

Chad doesn't appear ready to move.

"Chad", the older cop says, "Do you want that promotion?"

Slowly and grudgingly, Chad disengages from Francois.  The eldest of the three women hands Doug a duffel bag that she has packed for him.  She gives him a warm embrace, kisses him on the cheek and now he is led away by the police with the two social workers, where he will within seconds be gone from this place forever.  The woman in the orange blouse collapses onto the chair, and covers her face, weeping inconsolably...