“You bleddy idiot! I kill you!” Vulk’s jaw is twitching, his fists clenching and unclenching as he wrestles to ease the zip over his monstrosity.
“Where is Irina?”
“Not here. It is not here. You bleddy fool. You can see. This is another.”
“Where is Irina? I know you been after her.”
“Irina is running. Running from Vulk. All time running.”
He half expects Vulk to draw a gun on him, but either he has not replaced it yet or he has decided that he needs nicotine more than an armed showdown, for he now gives up the struggle with his zip, lights a cigar with shaking hands, and starts puffing away as though his life depends on it, sucking the smoke in through his teeth.
“Listen,” he mutters, “if you find this Irina, I vill pay you for it. Good money.”
Andriy feels a mixture of relief and disgust.
“Why for you want her? You have this girl now.”
Vulk puffs, enveloping Andriy in a cloud of smoke, his stained teeth chomping on the cigar. His lips are pink and moist. He licks them with his tongue, a quick movement, like a snake.
“Irina is better. Better class girl. No boyfriend. Hrr. I like it.”
“You degenerate pensioneer. Why you not find nice babushka to fuck?”
“Young girl is good for old man.” Vulk’s snake-tongue flicks across his lips. “Mek him nice stifFy. Good business.”
Wreathed in smoke, he resumes the tussle with his zip, and breathes a grunt of relief as it slides up at last. Andriy stares, despite himself fascinated by the physicality of the man, those greedy eyes, that smile of possession, that gross bulk stretched tight as a drum above his trouser belt, the little flecks of dandruff like droppings of mortality on his collar. So this is how evil is embodied.
“Is it for love you want? Or business?”
“Loff? Business?” He grins. “Is same thing, no?”
This corrupted old devil-he doesn’t understand the difference.
“Maybe you little puppy boy, you like it older?” Vulk sneers, lowering his voice to a coarse whisper. “If you vant I can find for you. Good voman. Matoor. Plenty titty. Better than this one. She mek you nice little stiffy.”
Then he reaches into the back of the vehicle, where the girl is pulling on a pair of too-tight jeans, and gives her a slap on the rump.
“This my new girlfriend. Eh, Lena? You like Vulk?”
She shrieks playfully.
“Where is Irina?” Andriy leans forward and asks the girl quietly in Ukrainian. “Have you seen her?”
The girl looks no older than fifteen. Her eyes are completely blank, unfathomable. She shrugs. “You know, this Irina, she doesn’t talk to nobody. She thinks she is better class of person than other Ukrainians.” Her voice is girlish and breathy, with a strong Kharkiv accent. Her eyes shift sideways and downwards, avoiding his gaze.
“Little sister, you come with me.” He reaches out his hand to the girl. “This is no good for you. I take you back to strawberry place.”
The dark eyes flicker upwards briefly in a look halfway between fear and contempt.
“Who you are, Mister Clever-clever, sticking poky-nose in everybody’s business?” For the first time he catches the faint whiff of vodka. “Who asked you to come here?”
“Sister, you too young for this type of game. You should be in school.”
“I am seventeen. Older than you think.” She has climbed out of the four-by-four and is buttoning up her jumper. She is scarcely more than a metre and a half tall. Her breathy voice has taken on a defiant edge. “And I know this game since age of twelve.” In the dusky light, the dead pools of her eyes gleam darkly. “First with uncle. Then with others. You think you so clever. You think you know everything. What you know about life for woman in Yasnygor?”
He thinks of his mother, her face haggard at forty-five, scrabbling to collect droppings of coal from the railway line near their house, of his sister drudging all hours to support her drunk of a husband, then preparing his evening meal when she gets home.
“Sister, only you know your life. But you can try to make it better.”
“So I try. This my boyfriend.” She strokes Vulk’s ponytail, a ghost of a smile on her mouth. “He gives me money. He gives me new job. Better than strawberry-picking. Eh, Vulchik?”
He wishes he could just grab her with both hands and shake her-shake that pathetic smile off her face, shake the deadness out of her eyes. What is happening to his country? It is becoming a human wasteland.
“Sister, this new job is only to make sex for money.”
The smile flickers.
“Sex for money. Sex for no money. Which you think is better, eh, Mister Clever Nosy-poker?”
I AM DOG I RUN I SEEK YOUNG RIBBON-ON-NECK-SMELL FEMALE FOR MY GARLIC-AND-LOVE-PISS MAN I CAN SMELL HER SNIFF SHE IS HERE SHE IS RUNNING BIG SMOKE-STINK MAN IS RUNNING AFTER HER I BARK HAARR HAARR I JUMP I SNAP I BITE HIS LEG I BITE HIS ARM I SMELL HIS BAD BLOOD HAARR HAARR HE SHOUTS HE STOPS SHE RUNS AWAY I FOLLOW WOOF SHE STOPS I STOP SHE TURNS AND RUNS SHE RUNS I RUN AFTER WOOF WOOF SHE IS RUNNING WRONG WAY RUNNING TOO FAST I RUN IN FRONT OF HER I SIT NOSE ON GROUND WOOF SHE STOPS I COME CLOSER WOOF WOOF SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHICH WAY TO RUN THIS YOUNG FEMALE IS MORE STUPID THAN A SHEEP WOOF WOOF
SHE TURNS AND STARTS TO RUN ANOTHER WAY I RUN IN FRONT OF HER I SIT NOSE ON GROUND WOOF SHE STOPS SHE TURNS ANOTHER WAY THIS IS THE RIGHT WAY NOW SHE IS RUNNING THE RIGHT WAY I RUN BEHIND NOT TOO FAST WHEN SHE STOPS I COME CLOSE SNAP SNAP SHE RUNS AGAIN SHE IS RUNNING TO MY WHEELIE-HOME SHE RUNS I RUN I AM DOG
Dear sister,
I was blessed today with a joyful Opportunity to witness canal knowledge thanks to that good mzungu Andree who cheered me up with brotherly love fearing I had never seen this sight before when in fact I have witnessed canal knowledge more than once it being common in Limbe though not with the Nuns.
When the Spawn of Satan cried out and cursed his upstanding manhood it brought into my mind the time when Joel the one eyed drover was witnessed in the garden of Mrs Phiri by seven boys from the orphanage who had encircled the adulterers in the hot fever of their sin and hurled mangoes upon them which were ripe and full of yellow juice. That also was a joyful occurrence.
Then occurred the most outstanding occurrence for when we got back to the caravan Andree was still heavyhearted and we came upon the dog which was barking as if possessed and inside the caravan was the beauteous Irina beloved of Andree. And Andree’s countenance was filled with Radiance and many joyful embracings followed. And Andree’s eyes gleamed in an unmanly way and Irina’s also although off course she being a woman it was not unmanly. No it was. It is very confusing. And my eyes also became womanly.
I AM DOG I AM GOOD DOG I HAVE CHASED AWAY SMOKE-STINK MAN I HAVE BROUGHT MORE-STUPID-THAN-SHEEP RIBBON-ON-NECK-SMELL FEMALE TO GARLIC-AND-LOVE-PISS MAN HE IS HAPPY SHE IS HAPPY NO W THEY SAY GOOD DOG I AM GOOD DOG I SEE FAT PISEON COME DOWN FOR BERRIES EATS BERRIES TOO GREEDY EATING NOT LOOK-INS I JUMP SNAP DEAD I SIVE TO MY MAN GOOD DOG SAYS SARLIC-AND-LOVE-PISS MAN GOOD DOG SAYS MEAT-AND-HERB-PISS MAN I AM GOOD DOG I AM TIRED AFTER ALL MY GOOD-DOG JOBS I REST HEAD ON PAWS BESIDE FIRE WITH MY MAN I LISTEN TO THE SINSINS OF BIRD IT SINSS IN BIRD-LANSUASETHIS IS MY FIELD BUSSERRR OFF THIS IS MY WOOD BUSSERRR OFF FEMALE SAYS HOW BEAUTIFUL IS THE SONS OF THE BIRD SHE IS MORE STUPID THAN A SHEEP THAT BIRD IS NOT GOOD BIRD IF IT COMES DOWN FROM ITS TREE I WILL CATCH IT SNAP DEAD EAT I AM GOOD DOG I AM DOG
Dear sister,
We feasted tonight upon bread and marrow gin and carrots of which we had an abundance and a fat pigeon which was captivated by the dog and strawberries which were even more delicate than before. We made a big fire and sat on the hilltop from whence we could behold the beauteous sunset (though not as beauteous as the sunsets of Zomba) and the bird sat on the branch singing its cheerful song and the running dog was at rest. Then we fell upon remembering our previous feastings in this place and the songs we had sung and Andree said Emanuel sing something for us. So I closed my eyes and opened my heart and sang the prayer for peace Dona Nobis Pacem. And more unmanly tears were shed.