A Horse Called El Dorado by Kevin Kiely

Author:Kevin Kiely [Kevin Kiely]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781847174659
Publisher: The O'Brien Press
Published: 2012-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

One night Mama came back to the apartment late and she was in a good mood. She had got another e-mail from my grandfather Jack in Ireland. He was sending out money for my ticket using Western Union. Mama would have to provide pocket money for the journey.

‘Pocket money?’ Grandma asked, bewildered.

‘Yes, “pocket money”.’ Mama translated the e-mail for her.

‘But he has no pockets,’ said Grandma.

‘I know. I will have to buy him warm clothes,’ Mama replied.

‘Ireland is very far north,’ Grandma worried. ‘Will it be covered in snow?’

Grandma borrowed some money from people in the apartment block who were cousins of hers. One of them worked in a cinema, and he said that Ireland was full of snow and ice. All the people went about in long coats, with hats that covered their ears like Eskimos.

‘Where will we get a snow hat in Cali for Pepe?’ asked Grandma that night, combing her long, silver-grey hair.

‘Where, indeed, in the whole of Colombia will we get a hat like that?’ asked Mama, winking at me so that I would not pay any attention to Grandma.

‘But I have a hat,’ I said and got out my straw hat with the horses and men sewn onto it. I was getting worried now.

They bought me second-hand clothes. I got two T-shirts with car logos, a poncho, long trousers and a thick scarf. Grandma sewed earflaps onto my hat that could be tucked in, so that if I arrived in Ireland in a heavy snowfall I would be prepared for the worst.

‘What about gloves?’ Grandma asked. ‘He might get frostbite, like in those American war movies.’ She began to explain to me what frostbite was, but I did not understand.

‘My cousin says there is a war in Ireland,’ said Grandma, rushing into the flat one night. ‘Are we sending little Pepe to his death?’

‘There is no war where Pepe is going,’ replied Mama evenly.

‘Are you sure?’ asked Grandma, getting increasingly flustered. ‘How can you be sure?’

‘I am sure,’ said Mama. ‘His papa never said anything about a war.’

The night before I left, Grandma put on the water heater for as long as she could bear to without thinking of what it would cost. I was meant to be the only person to have a bath that night, but Mama examined the water after me and found it still hot, so everyone had a bath. Then there was the problem of washing my towel in the bathwater and getting it dry by the morning. It was packed wet into a plastic bag.

The next morning, it was decided that we should all have some food at a café in the airport. I knew that Grandma would get weepy so I said, ‘Why not stay in the apartment?’ No, she wanted to come with us. She hadn’t seen the airport since her honeymoon to Panama.

Mama carried the carpet bag to the bus stop. I carried the plastic bag with the wet towel in it and my hat.

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