The Utopian Generation by Pepetela

Author:Pepetela
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Biblioasis
Published: 2024-06-18T00:00:00+00:00

9

He has left the water and is lying on the sand. The sun will soon disappear, and he’ll be able to get away from this goddamned place. He feels cold, his uniform is soaked. He hasn’t quite grasped what happened; he only knows he hasn’t been caught. But his brain starts functioning again, albeit hesitantly. Apparently, the soldiers had heard rumours from the locals that there were guerrillas in the vicinity. It must have been his footprints that had been discovered, because he had been prowling around there for days. I don’t know though, because they kept talking about sneaker prints, like the ones used by guerrilla fighters, and I’ve got boots like those worn by the Tuga army. It doesn’t matter. The group had come on patrol and had been interrupted by this Major Calado guy. And they were some ten metres from the marks made by his boots. The boots that had belonged to a dead Tuga soldier, salvaged from some fight, and which he, as the commander, had decided to make use of. I’ve been more than lucky, Worldly thinks. What distracted them? Some furtive shadow in the woods. But what shadow? A worm swallowing its own shadow. Not even Simão himself was sure.

One thing’s strange: if they had found his footprints, why did they come out on patrol on the eastern side of the post rather than the west or south, where he had been? It was the first time he had approached the post from this side. Is that really true? I don’t know. I no longer know where I’ve been. I get lost as soon as I enter the forest. No, there’s just no way of understanding it. I only know I did very well not to stand up, otherwise they might have fired. But maybe they wouldn’t have. But they would find his excuse suspicious. Excuses, Marilu, excuses, it won’t happen again. If he had surrendered right here, they would have said you saw there was no escape and you gave yourself up. That’s not the same thing as turning up at the military post and surrendering. They would think, of course, he was part of the reported reconnaissance group. He would bend under torture and tell them the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The truth they wanted to hear because they would never believe his own. And they still say some people have no luck! He had been lucky his whole life through, because he knew how to play the game.

No, you’re lying to yourself, Worldly. This time, you took no risks. You weren’t your own master, your sovereign self, as you like to say. The master of his own self, as you understand it, is proud, maybe haughty, trying to surpass himself. He conquers his luck, and he triumphs over himself when his luck is bad. You are not a master of yourself, you were vanquished by your bad luck, you didn’t try to turn it around. You made use of your luck; you didn’t conquer it.

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