“You were there and no one wanted you. But now that I’ve chosen you, they will all want you.”
He tells her about Bamba Outificanso who betrayed me with a guitar player. And Léo Levourto who betrayed me with my cook. What is it you women are after? He told her how ex-Captain Canza had gotten the woman he loved like I love you pregnant. And do you know how I found out? One evening, when I felt like comforting her, I asked her to show me her breasts. I started fondling them and a white liquid came oozing out of her nipples. Aha! What are you going to name the child? Son of a bitch, what kind of a moron does she take me for? How did this happen, how: I haven’t seen you for thirteen months and now you’re pregnant. I was just back from my war against the communists. How did this happen?
“What are you talking about?”
My anger took over: I cut open her belly and showed her the umbilical cord.
“You women are all the same, that’s the truth; you don’t want us to confuse you with men. Do you know ex-Colonel Miguel Tournanso? What’s up with you, Carvanso, why do you come barging in like that unannounced?”
“Colonel, the nation is in danger: Ayelé Ayoko Tite has risen up and is bearing down on the capital.”
“How many men does he have with him?”
“No one really knows, Colonel.”
“Bring it on! My hernia is waiting for them. What’s a bunch of upstarts straight out of a shithole like Galzarra think they’re going do? Let them come.” Then he set off across the capital on his big white horse, dressed in the way Vauban dresses, his head held high, a hand held proudly across the chest. We prayed he would be killed during this military campaign and that our virgins would finally be safe from his hernia. Candles were now scarce in Zamba-Town: the people had exhausted the supplies. Cardinal Dorzibanso made a fortune from all the extra confessions he heard. I’m remembering all those huamani we burnt at night at all the crossroads, poor plant! We stopped eating meat on Fridays: “Let him die.” But he wasn’t going to die that easily.
He summoned ex-Colonel Carvanso to make it clear that he wanted the Zamba-Town — Maha railway line cleared for his big balls the week of the wedding; he called Cardinal Dorzibanso to inform him first-hand that you’ll be the one to marry us; he sent for his brother same father same mother to remind him to let the authorities know that highways 1, 2, 3, and 4 should be open for my hernia to use, let the Italians know while you’re at it that the Three-Continents Hotel should be at my disposal, as well as the beach at Valtaza-Diego; he instructed the Minister of Dough to give National Mom three hundred and twelve million for the catering and to set aside the same amount again for the wedding attire and consorts.
Now hurry up with the preparations. He paraded his hernia up and down the hallways of the presidential palace to check that everyone was hard at work. Hurry up now will you! Ha, if I was Darbanso I’d have you shot at the first opportunity! And what if I were like Manuel Lansio who took the precaution of having two cooked as a way to ensure the third was giving his all! But I’m a good president and you take advantage of that to climb in my pants. Where the fuck is Razo Fansa?
“Right here Mr. President sir.”
“I’ve never quite understood why that parking facility of yours never has the right number of cars available for my hernia to use, but if you stumble this time, you’re a dead man.”
He has a word with his cousin Martillimi Lavouza who’ll never fully understand why he isn’t president yet, but if you mess up this time I’ll shove the PA system down your throat. He has a word with the Minister of Audiovisuals and National Mom because I’m begging you Mom none of your mommy handmade official invitations, this is how you hold a fork, and the knife this way, the drinking glass like this, hold your napkin in this way and I’m begging you Mom no stuffing your face like a pig, and no grazing like a cow at the table: just remember you’re the President’s mom.
He drops in on Simone des Bruyères, my babe from Vauban’s country, to explain to her why I’m getting married but my heart is still with you I won’t stop loving you with an irreproachable love, you are as beautiful as the sun and as copper.
“I want to hear you say I am even more beautiful.”
“You are as beautiful as the papaya fruit in my garden.”
“Even more beautiful.”
“You are as beautiful as the day I was born.”
Mother from Vauban’s country. Who knows how she came into the world. Love me in the way people love in your country. He buries his face in her bosom and laps up the droplets that have started running. Show me that the world over is still in the world. Be good. And he plants his fallacious hernia in her.
“Gently now, Mr. President.”
“You can’t make love properly by being gentle. Be strong. Don’t be fragile like they are in my colleague’s country. I’m handling you in the way we do around here. You see, you see?”
He goes and has a few words with Colonel Isidro who spends the nation’s money like he sprays his juices about. He reviews his calendar: Thursday night: rue de la Buomba; Saturday night: Payadiso; Sunday night: the Arcades…. He goes to say good night to his little Indian babe you should have tasted her Isidro, sober as you are, you would have given up looking for other women: she handles you like no other. That Senegalese girl Sey is a good fuck too, if only you’d tried her…. He has a shot of sowassi to give him a little boost. This wedding’s the chance to get drunk like my people do. He eats and then vomits. Tell me what my people are saying, Comrade Carvanso, anything.
“They say you’re a good president. But you’re marrying the one who tried to kill you.”
“That’s true, Carvanso: she’s beautiful in a way no other woman has ever been. She’s the Queen of Sheba. Have you seen the hips on her?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“I’ll take her thrusts anytime.”
He turned away from Carvanso and took a nice long piss in a flower vase just like my people do, splashing urine on his kaki legs, fermented urine.
“You know, Carvanso, I don’t see how the consumption of pussy can possibly interfere with the smooth running of the affairs of the state.”
“You’re right, Mr. President.”
“You must have heard about Louis XIV, and you know Vauban — well, those guys had all kinds of mistresses, and I’m telling you, Carvanso, screwing is the next heart of humanity.”