Ham’s assistant lived in the butcher’s courtyard, in a little room over the stable. He was an Eagle, a member of the Slovene Lads. His red-stitched brown uniform, belt and hat with an impressive eagle’s feather hung from the wall. He played a small drum in the Slovene Lads’ brass band, and in the afternoons or evenings he would practice with his drumsticks on a piece of felt that he set over the drumhead, in order not to make too much noise. I told him that in the drumming school in Basel the beginners first practice on wooden footstools. That seemed to really interest him. He let me bang out all of Vogel Gryff … the introductory march of mardi gras in Basel. Only the piper was missing, so I whistled along … He was really impressed with the rhythm, because it conveyed the melody even without the winds. He tried it himself and mastered it in no time … I went to visit Jože a number of times. You got to his room by a stairway … He was a nice, honest guy from a farming family. He trusted me and I him. There was a picture of his girl, Tončka, on his night table. He had Vati make a choker for her out of lamb’s hide. He had a stack of other photographs showing him with his band. He kept an army style revolver on the shelf in his wardrobe. A formidable caliber. He had brought it back from his service in the army. It was wrapped in a thousand sheets of newspaper. He let me hold it. I spun the barrel, causing the hammer to go “click! click!” With the bullets that he kept in the box next to it, I could have ripped the whole room to shreds and put holes in all the chimneys … Mr. Ham made a little fun of Jože, especially on Sundays when he would dress up in his Eagles uniform and, with his drum in a sling on his side and his drumsticks in a holster on his belt, head off to practice or a meeting of the Slovene Lads in town. But because he was such a good worker, it wouldn’t have occurred to Ham to fire him … He and Ham worked so well together, you would have thought they were both owls or falcons. Even the twins held their tongues around him … Jože and I once hitched a team to the delivery wagon with its tall sides and drove to the slaughterhouse … All the cows and even horses they had standing outside in pens under the acacias!.. Inside there were big, cool rooms with white tile and red floors, perhaps so the blood wouldn’t be so visible … I watched them slaughtering cows, bulls, calves. The butchers were dressed in white from head to toe, with masks over their mouths and noses like surgeons. Jože preferred not to look. He even turned his head away, toward the pegs in the coatroom. The butchers, all giants with faces as plump as women’s, grinned at him, not meanly, but in a way that showed they respected him … They killed the cattle with a rod that had electricity in it, or with a tube that shot out a little dart as thin as a needle. They looked for the place on their foreheads: bzzzz … and in an instant the animal, tied by the legs and horns, toppled onto its side … Sometimes it also staggered, each of its four legs separately, like a mardi gras horse with two men hidden inside who can’t agree whether to go straight or in a circle … The animal collapsed and stretched its head far forward … like a skull drying on the Sava’s gravel … At first I thought that it had passed out, but then I saw that it kept pressing farther down onto the floor, as though it wanted to sink through it. It really was dead … They dragged it off like a swollen carpet over the floor, to skin it … Then they sprayed water on the floor and brought in another. Sometimes an animal would resist … while it mooed they would shove it from behind with a kind of ram and pull it from in front by the rings in its nostrils. Sometimes the calves would bolt … and they would have to go chasing after them all through the hall … Meat and skins alike hung from hooks … like clothes in a closet … the horns, the hooves, bits of tail would be stacked up in the corners by individual butchers … Jože gave me a pail to collect hot blood in … they made a strong soup out of it … now and then I also got a piece of meat, some tripe, a soup bone … On Saturdays there would be crowds of poor people and women holding assorted pots standing out under the trees around the slaughterhouse … You always got something, if not for free, then for not much money … At times I did fine as I watched the gigantic animals fall to the floor, as if hit by lightning … yes, this was proof that death was the same for all … at others the recollection of Liska, Dimka or the warm, sticky smell of blood drove me out under the acacias to vomit …
That Fall
THAT FALL we were penniless again. Summer and early fall, “die billige Gemüsenzeit,”* were over … That table, both hammocks, the chairs … in one of them, which was upholstered, Gisela and I had our hiding place in a gap under a spring … everything we’d bought when we moved had made such a hole in the family’s wallet that we were still feeling it … In response to an ad that Vati had placed in the newspaper Jutro there had not been a single customer … Again we had to take groceries from Bojadamič on credit. Again we had to borrow to pay for heating fuel … we had long since given up on gas, which came through a coin-operated machine. The main room got its heat from the kitchen. That’s where we went to warm our hands and backs. When our mouths began watering unbearably, that’s when they sent me down at a gallop, list in hand, to the woman who sat in the newsstand … All I ever saw of this woman in her little witch’s hut were the downy wrinkles around her mouth or her hand when it pushed a pack of cigarettes toward me under the window … I compiled the list myself, in cursive and Slovene translation as mother dictated it. According to it, we were pawning a rabbit fur … a fur hat … a choker … for so and so many dinars in credit. The lady unrolled the list that I had rolled into a scroll. Sometimes she gave me money for nothing, and sometimes she needed some enticing collateral. “Yes, the choker!” she said. I raced back upstairs and brought her the choker, made of angora rabbit fur and nicely wrapped in newsprint. She inspected it in the gloom of her little house and counted the money out onto the rubber mat … one, two, three … we counted together, out loud … Soon it transpired that she had more of Vati’s furs in her newsstand than tobacco and cigars … I immediately ran with the money and gunnysack to “Fuel” just several doors down the street. The rumor was that the owner of the company was a communist. The communists were on the side of the poor and wore red neckties, because they lusted for blood … When the salesman, who had his shoes wrapped in gunny sack on account of the cold, weighed the full bag out in the courtyard, the owner was always looking out the window of a sort of granary that loomed up high over the mountains of logs and the streets of stacked boards … He would run down and check to see if the scale wasn’t showing less than the actual weight of the bag … Vati came to meet me, so that we both carried it back. The bag was at least twice my size and so heavy that it made me stagger. Finally I almost had to carry both of them … the bag and him … up the steps, when he suddenly went pale and almost collapsed near the fence …