Tram 83 by Fiston Mwanza Mujila

Author:Fiston Mwanza Mujila [Mujila, Fiston Mwanza; Glasser, Roland; Mabanckou, Alain]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781941920053
Publisher: Deep Vellum Publishing

19.

RELIGION OF THE STONE: WE DON’T KNOW THE WEATHER FORECAST, WE ARE THE WEATHER FORECAST, NOT TO MENTION THAT WE DEVISE OUR OWN SOLAR SYSTEM. THE SUN RISES AT THE NORTHERN STATION AND SETS AT THE TRAM BETWEEN TWO GRAPEFRUIT-BREASTS. WE ARE THE CLOUD PRINCES OF GUILE AND RESOURCEFULNESS, THE SONS OF THE EARTH AND OF THE RAILROAD. IT’S THE NEW WORLD HERE. YOU DON’T FUCK, WE FUCK YOU. YOU DON’T EAT, WE EAT YOU. YOU DON’T WRECK, WE WRECK YOU. IT’S THE NEW WORLD HERE. IT’S EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF, AND SHIT FOR ALL. IT’S THE JUNGLE.

No running water these last two weeks for patriotic reasons, apologized the dissident General: “You know it’s difficult to resolve all the problems at once, the mines don’t yield what they used to, and if you’re without water and electricity, it goes to show how much those rascals in the Back-Country have brought the country to its knees, indeed that is the reason why we decided to take up arms, to sort the situation out ourselves, don’t hold it against us, we’ll regain our prestige, but one bit of good news: I am thinking of reopening Mine 15 so the students can work at night to supplement their expenses, they’ve demanded far too many study grants, too bad for those patriots in a hurry to get straight down to it …”

It was with a heavy step that Lucien rejoined the bunch out front of the Tram. Requiem was keen he join the group at all costs. The more there are of you, the more you can deal with assaults. The more there are of you, the more you can seize the initiative to attack. The more there are of you, the more sacks you can carry away. Unlike other mining sites that were chock-full of diamonds, or cobalt, or copper, or bronze, and nothing else, Hope Mine produced all of the above minerals. The region was so rich in deposits that a legend had grown up — and it happens to be true — recounting how the inhabitants of the City-State dug up their gardens, their houses, their living rooms, their bathrooms, their bedrooms, and even the cemetery. Yes, in the cemetery, funerals would sometimes turn festive following the chance discovery of a high-grade stone. They even dug at the station whose metal structure recalled the 1885s, particularly at night, sometimes even with the collusion of the local mayor, who wielded a pickax in his own offices, and busily scoured public buildings from top to bottom. It was said that in a single day dozens of sacks of heterogenite were carted off from huts and other makeshift camps. With such eroded, tampered foundations, houses threatened to collapse at the slightest rain. Will you consent to starve to death when there’s silver, copper, barium, tin, or coal lying quietly under your feet? From the area around Hope Mine to as far as the east side of Vampiretown, the city took on the appearance of an archaeological site.

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