Kelvin's ZeroSead Mahmutefendić

Translated from Serbo-Croatian to English by Edward Alexander

The lowest temperature ever to have been reached was at the

University of Tokyo in February 1983. With the aid of a special

device, the temperature was recorded at 0.0003 Kelvin. This means

that they were really close to absolute zero, Oo Kelvin, equivalent

to -273.16o Celsius. Science considers that it is not possible to

achieve absolute zero since even atomic motion ceases at this

point.

1.IVITA SICUT METAPHORA

1.

At the very last moment, Ida remembered she might succeed at

reaching Mrs Anera and Mr Antonio Sforza, so she stops to listen

down the staircase but doesn't hear any sound whatsoever coming

from downstairs, and at the same time she thought that they'd

probably already left the villa, but at the very same moment, like

a spring which had till then been coiled, she rushes towards the

lift with all her strength, flings open the iron doors, runs

inside and presses the lowest button for the ground-floor, after

which point she feels the downwards slide, and then frantically

turns to face the mirror, observing herself in it with a

particular grimace which she would usually make whenever she was

in a hurry, pouting her lips with the tip of her tongue, and then,

just a moment later, she started flirting with a well-rehearsed

film-star smile à la Greta Garbo, as though at that moment she was

stood in front of dozens of flashing cameras, and thought, God,

it's going to be a real gala without those two mummies in this

three-floored Taj Mahal for a whole month while they're in

America, having been invited there by some old man, who's simply

rolling in money and boredom just like these two stiffs, the

Yankee wanting to repay them for his stay here last year with that

furniture of his my wife Newmann mon cher enfant, just a drop more for my wife,

but “my wife” weighs as much as a pubescent elephant, oh-oh, when

I just remember how much junk that “my wife” left behind, oh, God,

just thinking about it, I can't believe such decent people, who

prefer to speak about Gluck and Gershwin than about the numerous

price-hikes and shit that inflates quicker than the Lira, because

these are such Lumpenproletariat topics, precisely that these

sorts of ghosts should leave so much rubbish all around

themselves, behind themselves, beneath themselves, so bloody much

of it that it was as nocuous as the streets of New York after the

dustmen went on strike, so much so that I once dared to tell Mrs.

Anera: No! Discreetly enough that theoretically she couldn't have

heard me while she was doing her embroidery in the next-door room,

I at least told her everything openly in my mind, that for the

money which they pay not a single living soul would clean up what

Mr Sir and Mrs Madam had shat out over the course of those days,

so, I said it, she should know, let it be known, my dear Madam,

and she said to me, you know what, Signorina Ida, these people

would drown in their own shit if they couldn’t pay anyone to clean

it all up after them, then the lady took a deep breath, and

sighed, letting the air flow from both her mouth and her nose as

though she was wondering about what is to be done in order for

this no longer to happen to the noble people, and I, so as to help

her, murmured, more to myself, the horror, the absolute horror,

when you can't believe your own eyes, and who knows for how many

years I'd have kept spouting these ridiculous jokes if I hadn't

had to roll up my sleeves and get down to work, making my way

through the tunnels of rubbish in this shit-ridden house in which

I can't even theoretically work on all three floors at the same

time, well, now me and my Borghese will enjoy ourselves, play hide

and seek all over the place so that it wouldn't be a surprise at

all if those two found us upon their return before we managed to

find ourselves, that'll be a veritable stunt when I chuck on the

twenty-third year of my life in seven days time, my thoughts

exactly, on this very day me and my Charles III will celebrate it

in style, let it go to where it came from and where all normally

goes, he still needs to be called at his house today and informed,

my mate, Little Red Riding Hood is at the end of woods, granny

isn't at home, she went off with the hunter over to the other side

of the Pond, and the wolf began crapping out marbles, like,

haven't we said everything to each other, you've really offended

me, and you'd done something similar before, but this time I

really lost it – INTERFERENCE ON THE LINE – WE'RE SORRY – 'scuse

me, it's deliberate and all in a similar tone, and then he'd give

me a statement for the press so that I have to promise him that

it's really, really the last time I'll behave like this and that

he really wouldn't be able to put up with my insolence and vulgar

allusions, not even my innuendos, not even that, everything has

its limits, if somebody is good to me, get on my back and ride me

however much you want, until I bleed! – take however much you

need, but don't start making a fool of me in front of other

people, that’s when I lose my temper, and adio mare, that's it,

that's the wanker for whom I took to the megaphone to say that he

should give up all of his inherited genes about the rights of a

man to all of those rubbish strategic ruses, you know those famous

lines, you should never give in first so that she wouldn’t wear

the trousers and alongside this up your sleeve you have, let's

say, something small, like a fucking cop, because, for God’s

sakes, you're not the only lady I can take advantage of – SAVE

YOUR ENERGY – there's no Little Red Riding Hood nor the old

granny, nor cake nor hunter, there is Ida Agalar and that’s a

full-stop, fuck you if you're ever somewhere out there lurking in

the shadows, thinking that your pride will be demeaned by some

sort of cos fi if you honour me by climbing up the staircase in

this villa, and at the top of it the Queen of Sheba is awaiting,

oh, don't go serenading me my dear, who gives you the right to

strut around on me, the one who rolled up the blinds which covered

your eyes, dear me, if only you could have seen yourself and that

idiotic expression on the face caused by your constant Madams, and

then you even managed to say a whole load of bollocks, a whole

bloody essay about the divine properties of the chips which I'd

quickly fried on the gas hob and even managed to scorch and burn

them so much that they looked more like lumps of coal than fried

potatoes, and you defended me, my dear young man, as though

Michael Mansfield was your father, boasting that you'd never eaten

anything like it in your life, but in earnest it was very pleasant

for you to be talking bollocks like that so freely because your

balls were no longer ringing the way they used to when you alone

could be woken up by them when asleep, that's how things are,

mate, my boyfriend now wants to show off in front of me just

because you used to have that chick under you – A MAN CHASES AFTER

A MEMBER OF THE FEMALE SEX ALL UNTIL THE MOMENT WHEN THIS

PARTICULAR FEMALE AGGREES TO HAVE PHYSICAL CONTACT, OF COURSE,

OUT OF HER OWN FREE WILL, AND THEN THEIR RELATIONSHIP

FUNDAMENTALLY CHANGES BECAUSE THE RELATIONSHIP NOW HAS AN ENTIRELY

INTIMATE MEANING, MORE PRECISELY, IT IS SENTIMENTAL, AND HEREUPON

THE MEMBER OF THE FEMALE SEX STARTS TO CHASE AFTER THE MAN, WITH

THE ONLY DIFFERENCE BEING THAT, IN A VERY LARGE NUMBER OF CASES,

THE MAN ATTEMPTS TO GET HIMSELF OUT OF THE INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP

IN QUESTION, OR IN OTHER WORDS HE WANTS TO RUN AWAY – yes, that's

what Zoroaster always used to say, my grandfather Hilmbeg, may

Allah bless you, let it be seen, and let it be known, Charles, the

third one as well, I love you, listen, I need to tell you

something good, for the next month you can come and visit me

without having to wear that fleece, hey, for the whole and entire

month, man, we'll have a honeymoon in their bed so that somebody

finally rocks it up, that great big old bed deserves at least once

for somebody to practice some really good and proper fucking on

it, to finally make its springs screech, and not that in the

morning its cold and clinically made before the officer does his

morning rounds, as if nobody had even been in it that night, if it

wasn't for madam's hot water bottle it wouldn't even know what

lukewarm feels like, Christ Charles, how could you have confused

the people’s ticket numbers, why is it that every single time I

have to wave to you first, why don't you do it for me sometimes,

yeah, more like messing around if your male pride allows it – YOU

SCRATCH MY BACK AND I'LL SCRATCH YOURS – man, I don't always have

the patience for such a thing, that's the sort of thing both sides

should tag along, not just one person because in his raw mind he

dreams up a film in which he screws the bird and does his deed, oh

wait a minute, if it's like that then you are casting you and me

and our film and what we have to the devil, when our brain cells

are operating on that wavelength, I didn’t approach my father

first, that sort of father, but I did approach you first – IN,

SHALL WE SAY, AN IN-TEAM-MATE RELATIONSHIP, TWO THINGS ARE

IMPORTANT ABOVE ALL ELSE: UNDERSTANDING AND RESPECTING THE OTHER

PERSON. IF THAT'S NOT THERE THEN EVERYTHING ELSE IS FUTILE, NOT

ONLY CAN THE RELATIONSHIP NOT HAVE THAT WHICH IS MOST IMPORTANT,

BUT IT CAN'T HAVE ANY LASTING IMPORTANCE EITHER. ON THE CONTRARY,

IF WE UNDERSTAND SOMEBODY THEN WE THEREFORE RESPECT THEM. BY

RESPECTING THEM, WE ARE LETTING THEM KNOW THAT WE THUS LOVE THEM.

IN THIS WAY, WITHOUT USING A SINGLE WORD, EVERYTHING IS SAID IN

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WAY POSSIBLE – to nobody else, my dear, not

even to him, and I wanted to call you, though, not because I'm

scared of being on my own or feeling as though I've been abandoned

by Your Excellency, but because I know that you're good, but also

that you're a manageable guy, that you were led astray by all

manner of rumours which were doing the rounds about me and my

fanny, a kid who thinks he's got to be top dog when with a woman –

THE WOMAN ALWAYS HAS BEEN, AND ALWAYS WILL BE, THE WEAKER SEX AND

THE MAN THE STRONGER – yes, sex, what a stupid word, I have to

tell Sir and Madam not to unscrew all of the fuses, but to leave

the porch light on so that nobody works out that the owners have

gone away for longer, and then at that very moment she freezes,

shaken as though somebody has touched an exposed high-voltage

wire, remains all stiff for a moment, unable to do absolutely

anything, any sort of movement with her arm or leg, head, tongue

or arse, managing only to cast a quick glance over at the wall

which was slowly sliding down trying to work out which floor she

was now on, but she couldn't see anything because the lift was in-

between two floors, so all she could see was how the wall's white

surface was slowly inching upwards and at the same time she felt

how the corners of her lips were slightly crooked, so that one of

her nostrils was slightly wider than the other, out of the corner

of her eye she noticed in the mirror how that half-smile of hers

which she'd brought with her from the third floor, and was a

little ashamed of, had completely vanished, she saw how her lips

curved up in a tearful grimace out of fear and foreboding, and,

like a bolt of lightening, the image of Mr Sforza carrying a chair

to the panel with the electricity meter flashed in her mind,

already touching the fuse in order to turn it anticlockwise at any

moment, and right now as she is thinking about it, the lift slides

at a snail's pace, that very fuse which supplies electricity to

the lift, if he made a mistake, she could reach the next floor

where she'd press the stop button – AN ELECTRICAL CIRCUIT IS

RESTORED AT THE MOMENT WHEN A CLOSED CIRCUIT IS MADE BETWEEN THE

SOURCE OF ELECTRICITY AND A CONDUCTOR – so she felt as though

somebody had put a lump of ice on her heart and was pressing down

on it so that all of her blood was turning into little icy

crystals and she herself into the Snow Queen who will wait in her

glass case just like Snow White for her prince, Charles III, to

come from somewhere and kiss her and get that bit of poisoned

apple out of her throat, God, just don't do that to me, she

managed to spit something resembling a whisper out of her

petrified lips, or was that her final remaining thought and an

outcry, a delayed sigh, or whatever, since thunder-bolts and

sparks had already reached her state of consciousness, the sky was

full of lightening above her, thunder could be anticipated in the

distance, rumblings which would shake up the whole earth and then

darkness, pitch blackness and a biblical apocalypse, and she,

having spread out her arms in helplessness, desperation and

horror, pushed her back against the plastic wall using the palms

of her hands, scratching the smooth surface with her nails, and

she felt somewhat better because they didn't clasp onto it but

rather slid, the poor thing didn’t dare think any further beyond

this: if she began to envisage a happy ending to this then at that

moment Satan would poke his nose in, because he doesn’t like it

when God was thought about and he was forgotten – THAT WHICH

USUALLY TRANSPIRES IS THE OPOSITE OF WHAT A PERSON WISHES FOR AND

DESIRES – but if she thinks about the very worst which could

happen then maybe this evil premonition would be fulfilled –

OFTEN, PRESICELY THAT WHICH A PERSON FOREBODES AND ENVISAGES ENDS

UP TRANSPIRING. IN THESE CASES SCIENCE IS POWERLESS, THIS IS HUMAN

SAVVY. A MAN ISN'T IN A FIT STATE TO FIND A SATISFACTORY ANSWER

WHEN FACED WITH SUCH PHENOMENA – if only she could get to any of

the floors, she'd then press the stop button – to stop her likely

grave, run out into the foyer and then onto a sunny, sun-drenched

meadow, but at that moment she became even more wrought with fear

at the thought that she wouldn't manage to reach such flowery

meadows nor get to the next damned floor, and out of this she felt

the creeps and something seeping down her thighs, like a thin,

sweet pain which grew by the second to an overwhelming climax, and

then she felt something similar to an orgasm and felt comfortable

leant against the wall with her legs spread in the middle of the

lift as if she was having a pee, not quite knowing whether she'd

just cummed or peed herself, anyhow, she felt both comfortable and

terrified, and just when this sweet fear began to subside, while

the wall's white surface was still crawling along the entire

length of the door, all of a sudden the lights went out, the lift

consequently shook from its foundations, then it suddenly

juddered, then stopped and was still, and the first thing which

came to her mind was her pitiful conclusion from a little earlier

that her wicked premonition has been realised after all and that

the devil had indeed come to collect her, and then at the very

same moment she wondered whether this would ever have happened if

she hadn't thought about it and then she remembered at the same

moment that she had to shout, she had to shout at the top of her

lungs, shout and shout, scream, Sir! Madam! Mr Sforza! Mr Sforza!

Ahh! Ahhh! I'm trapped in the lift! Mr Sforza! – she quickly did

some calculations, working out which two floors she was stuck

between, she wanted to determine where she was located – both the

lift and she in the lift – and what her chances were of calling

someone down there before they left or, better put, before they

got too far away, Siiiiirrrrr!!! I'm stuck in the lift, can

anybody help me, she shouted at the top of her voice which

reverberated sharply, and then she began to realise that the

walls, like the lift's doors, were a huge barrier to anybody on

the outside hearing her except from Mr Sforza if he hadn't got

down from the chair which he used to unscrew the lift's fuse, and

she was simply taken aback by this thought, God forbid, the

lightening flashed in her mind, what if he'd already gone, if he

was already in his car, if the car's engine was on, if he... if

he'd already... if he, she burst into desperate tears, if it was

already like that then... then my chances of surviving are at

Kelvin's zero, she cried as if she'd been burnt, God, you can fuck

off and eat shit if this is the end which you've allocated me, she

said with a shaking, trembling jaw as though she'd lost her mind,

such an intense self-pity took hold of her because of this that

tears streamed down her face, and she began to miserably sob so

much that her shoulders were shaking and then all of a sudden she

calmed down, as though she'd heard something, her ears

concentrating on the sound, they now seemed bigger than those of a

grown up elephant, she pushed her burning face up against the iron

doors, her forehead rested against the cold surface and she almost

stopped breathing, so that she could clearly hear her heart

beating not only inside her chest but throughout her whole body,

as if she had a million hearts, and they were thumping in every

part of her body, son of a bitch, she thought, they're everywhere

in me – in my eyes, throat, fanny, hair, two of them in my

stomach, three in each calf, everywhere, anywhere, places you can

and can’t think of, so she could even feel it in her right tit,

now she was one big heart which had to be beating vigorously

because, for God's sake, her body became trapped between the

concrete and the iron, while the heart was hoping and yearning for

someone to come back, she felt a thin stream of cold air on her

boiling hot face, she positioned herself so that it would caress

her exactly where the tear was just rolling down the right side of

her face and which had then stopped in the gap between her nose

and cheek bone, tickling her, and then she dried this remaining

little tear with that small stream of air and used all of her

aroused senses to listen closely and hear whether there was

anybody in the foyer she could call out to, to kindly explain the

anecdote about the lift's unscrewed fuse, the fuse which would be

screwed back in again onto the control panel where it belongs, the

lift would go down a couple of metres and there you have it: an

amusing story to recount with company over a cup of coffee so that

a person can get properly drunk after having been born again, it

should be celebrated royally well, and then she remembered where

in fact she was right then, she shouted at the top of her voice,

but this time it was as though her voice wasn’t coming out of her

but rather from somebody else who was shouting instead of her, is

there anybody there? Mr Sforza! Sir, heeeeey! Ahhhhhhhhh! I'm in

the lift!... I’m stuck!... – THE LIFT CAN ONLY MOVE WHEN THE DOORS

ARE FIRMLY SHUT, THEN PRESS THE BUTTON INDICATING THE DIRECTION IN

WHICH YOU WISH TO TRAVEL. THE LIFT IS NOW READY TO MOVE, EITHER UP

OR DOWN, DEPENDENT UPON THE BUTTON WHICH YOU HAVE PRESSED – a

sepulchre silence took hold of her voice, swallowed it and once

again surrounded her with itself, so when she saw that was no

point in doing this other than to console and calm herself by

shouting and causing a brouhaha along with her pointless calling

out, she attempts to grope around in the dark to find the door's

handle, then it again seemed to her that she heard someone’s

footsteps in the foyer, she listened carefully once again,

swallowed the spit in her mouth and was all ears, wondering

whether Mr and Mrs Sforza have returned, she could clearly hear

her deep, muffled voice and his bleating, she could hear their

conversation, primarily in German, whilst she was answering him in

short sentences, in French it seemed, that it wasn't very nice of

him how he always blamed her for everything, and despite there

being more than enough time until the plane leaves, she hears how

he switches to Italian cazzo di cavallo, and then – lo and behold! – he

starts to curse at her in Serbian, how he would fuck her dead

mother in her grave, whilst she, the poor thing, was answering

shortly and abruptly, Merde! Salaud! Au diable! But he had

considerably more material for swearing since she couldn’t speak a

word of Serbian, if at least she could have spoken a bit of

Hungarian, in that way she could have given him as good as she

got, the Serbs and the Hungarians are European champions as far as

this is concerned, he tones his curses down a notch, something

along the lines of Jesus-fucking-Christ, porca miseria! Both wives and

travelling and America, as soon as a person gets out of bed, he

has to realise that he's already at a loss, he immediately starts

making unforgivable errors and mistakes, and so she heard how he

was cursing all over the length and breath of everyone, when

suddenly from the lift – like a catapult she threw out her

screeching voice which resonated all around her, can you hear me!

Is that you, Sir? Madam? I'm trapped in the lift! She then

realised that using full sentences was a luxury and that it was

sufficient just to pick particular words, help! help! can you hear

me! And then she decided to just stick to certain vowel sounds

which she could stretch out until her heart's content, in which at

the same time she would be able to drown her cries, her fear,

misery and desperation – IF THE DOORS ARE NOT SHUT PROPERLY THEN

THE LIFT CANNOT MOVE – and so she stopped all of this desperate

howling, and again there was darkness and silence in which Noah

too had probably found himself after the flood, the conversation

had already melted away as though what she'd heard earlier had

been soap bubbles, there was humming in her ears, just like the

humming you hear when holding a large empty shell up to your ear,

there was no more elegance in French or arrogance in German, nor

hypocritical Italian astonishment, e che bella machina, nor erotic

Serbian phantasmagoria, or whichever language they might speak in,

it was perfectly clear to her that you can swear in any God given

language, people are all flesh and blood underneath the surface,

but a person doesn't have to feel uncomfortable when somebody

swears at him apart from when it's a Serb or a Bosnian who’s doing

the swearing, what will become of poor me, she switched back to

wonder, letting all the air out of her lungs like an overblown

balloon: ahhhh and it was as if she recognised the pointlessness

of this sigh, she fell silent, shaking her head in resignation in

the darkness, as though it became clear to her for the first time

what sort of a situation she was in, in the dark she measured up

the whole space around her with her hands, hoping to at least work

out how much space God had given her to live out what was left of

her life, she squatted, leaned on the wall and tried to think as

calmly as she could: is there a more pitiful creature anywhere in

the whole wide world than me, she mumbled, and when she heard that

in the silence and pitch blackness her voice was just like the

prayer of a believer, she enhanced it somewhat, feeling the chills

throughout her whole body, adjusting it to the colour and the

rhythm of the words which she was uttering and then continued: I,

Tevhida Agalar, as a result of my own recklessness, find myself in

a lift in which I shall probably remain for a whole month unless I

die of hunger or thirst prior to this, which is most likely to

happen if I lose faith in myself and place my only hope in Him who

neither hears nor cares, so there, thus spoke the unfortunate Ida

while listening to her own voice in the silence, but she couldn't

hold on with her constricted throat or hold back a waterfall of

tears, it seemed to her as though the Niagara Falls were flowing

from her eyes, the tears squirting along in the same route on her

face which had only just dried out from earlier, she considered

how nevertheless, for the time being, her only solace was to be

found in crying, so as to cast out of herself all of the anguish

which had built up inside during the last five minutes, and then

she began to think back, and with a longing she thought about how

a person never knows how happy ordinary moments can be, only if he

wants to see things in this way, and she too hadn't realised just

how happy she had been just five minutes earlier when she'd been

upstairs, getting ready to go out with Mr and Mrs Sforza, and

rather than going via the back exit to the nearby phone box from

where she would call her grumpy, mucky-faced boy Charles III to

tell him that she was the last person he had to put on an act for,

he who out of nowhere made a left turn with his great big lorry...

warn the ladies and gentlemen, warn Sir and Madam not to turn out

the lights in front of the villa so that they wouldn't get burgled

by whatever dodgy blokes there might be out there, just for the

cost of the 100-200kW which those four bulbs would eat up over the

course of the month during which they'd be away, and me to save

those poor people from unnecessary costs... the bird rushes into a

trap at two hundred miles an hour in her grand prix car, and there

you have it – you and your loyalty and your kilowatts and your

speed, think about it, who would even... you wouldn't be able to

find such a girl, she's a one in a million, it's hard to believe

that such people still exist – AND WHAT SORT OF A SURNAME IS

AGALAR? BOGOMIL, MUSLIM, THE ENDING SOUNDS SPANISH: CORTÁZAR AND

AGUILAR FROM ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SOLITUDE, SO, MISS, ARE YOU IN

FACT OF BOGOMIL ORIGIN? A PAULICIAN? A CATHAR, SINCE THEY WERE

ONCE HERE, THERE WERE TENS OF THOUSANDS OF THEM AROUND MILAN – one

more attempt at screaming resembled the cry of the very last man

left on earth, and therefore the last intelligent creature left in

the galaxy, the final remaining atom in this interstellar system

which would carry on for a little longer before it too ceased its

ever shorter amplitudes, she was stunned by her cry because it

sounded to her like the call from a grave, one which had they'd

already filled in with soil whilst a living soul remained inside,

persistently calling out, fed by the idiotic illusion that

somebody would nevertheless hear him and save him while he could

still be saved, this was the penultimate thing she was trying to

do because she herself realised that in this sense every attempt

was futile, nothing would come of it, Sir and Madam rushed to the

airport, they're already being deafened by the aeroplane engines

on the runway, Thor himself wouldn't be able to summon them, come

on, Idushka, you ought to calm down, gather your strength, you

can't let yourself lose your mind on account of fear, you ought to

tell yourself that things are as they are, and use your hands to

feel the space around you again to work out where you are and what

exactly you can count on and what you can rely upon, and what you

can discard as an illusion – SOMETIMES REALITY CAN BE MORE

FANTASTIC THAN FANTASY – yes, to consider one's options, if they

exist at all, there's not a glimmer of light at the end of the

this tunnel, in fact, if there is then I can't see it right now

and I can't imagine what it would look like either, my dear little

Ida, do you really want to send yourself insane right away with

fear and what your current prospects offer you, or do you want to

maybe sit down, have a rest in the darkness here, and then in

silence attempt to weigh up what your best course of action is,

what do you think, old girl? – YOU'RE STILL ALIVE MY OLD LADY / I

TOO AM STILL ALIVE – she asked and answered the question at the

same time, those who haven't died are still alive today, how nice

it would be if everything was fantastic like in a fairy tale, when

I would be able to get myself out of here and into the light, just

a hundred or so meters away from this place, where life pulsates

and flows, people are on the move, rushing, bumping into one

another, squeezing into buses with bellies full of shit, swearing

cazzo, porca miseria – LIFE IS MANIFESTED IN CURSES – wrote the

unfortunate Mrs Mandelstamm, probably thinking that a person

burdened by life uses curses to ease all of that shit that

pulsates and flows around him, but this is more like a scream and

a cry, it is an eternal roar from the jungle, people ought to

shout from the top of a high mountain, one far higher than the

Himalayas, shout for as long as your throat can manage it, so that

both the living and the dead hear it, so that the whole universe

listens to you, feeling the way you break out in a sweat and it

sticks your shirt to your body, and then I realised that I'm not

allowed to take any more breaks in between these howls, I need to

draw them all together into one, into one long howl, just like the

ones hungry wolves produce, which somebody would be bound to hear,

oh God, she halted, if only I knew where in the world Sir and

Madam are right now, she felt bouts of yearning mixed with fear so

that her lips quivered as she reflected on the afterthought and

she lost all of her desire to flail her little arms around and

bang them against the walls or door so as to attract the attention

of another living creature, or – as if – she said to herself, she

once again established that her chances were equal to zero, and

that was Kelvin's zero for that matter, and then, as though scared

by this, she recoiled, asking herself what sort of chances she'd

had in mind: either to call somebody on the outside or to get

herself out of here, but at the same moment she realised with

ironic resignation that this was in fact one and the same thing,

six of one and half a dozen of the other, if she could call

somebody then with this she'd be saved, God almighty, she smiled

in the darkness, how nice that'd be, and since we're already on

the subject of God, and she felt an indeterminate sense of hope

somewhere inside herself, but at the same time she once again felt

that piercing in her head which came from Kelvin's unhappy zero

which she had once heard about in school and who knows why she

hadn't forgotten it in the way as she'd forgotten everything else

which she'd learned in physics classes, however, she remembered

all things which augured evil or could in some way turn out badly,

when at that point something flew into her mind in much the same

way as a speck of coal-dust can land in your eye if you stand at a

train's window and carelessly look towards the locomotive, namely,

our conjecture, God only knows, why she embraced this premonition,

she accepted it at the same moment, trapped it as though it was an

egg, fertilised it and saved it somewhere and it swells and swells

up and grows inside us in the darkness and we know that it's there

somewhere, it is present, we feel it in the rhythm of our

bloodstream, in the rhythm of our heart beats, in the intervals

between the breaths we take, so that, now, seven or eight years

later, it can sprout out of us and emerge at the surface, because

now is the precisely the moment for it to demonstrate its torment

and power in the darkness, right now, in this shitty, closed lift,

yep, dearest Ida, my little Ida, the poor little wretch whispered

in the darkness having felt so absolutely isolated, as though she

were on Pluto, so that great big tears once again flew from her

eyes, letting them all come out, damn it, she said loudly, feeling

how her cheeks were still flushed with mixed feelings of

excitement, I only realised too late that I was rushing into a

trap, but there's no point in directing all thoughts in that

direction, when in danger its not worth taking the mandatory

course of action, in no instance should I allow myself to become

calm and sink into despair and fear – IN OUR POLITICAL ACTIVITIES

DEFEATISM SHOULD BE ENTIRELY ELIMINATED FROM OUR THOUGHTS. WHOEVER

CAN'T ACCEPT THIS NEEDS TO BE REEDUCATED – oh, mother dearest –

LIFE IS BITTER, MOTHER... MEXICO, MEX-I-I-I-ICO, MEHICO – why

can't you choose to give birth to me once again and dump me out in

the light of day, she nodded her head, I'd like to have another go

at what happened, I used to be indifferent, I never used to demand

such a sacrifice on my account from anybody then, come on mum,

please, no drama, no embellishments, my God, I just can't go in

and out this bloody iron and rubble which I'm walled-in alive to

at my own free will, I'm as pathetic as anything, she began

wailing as though mourning over somebody's open grave, feeling a

lukewarm trickle of sweat beneath her arm, removing pieces of

glass in the dark so she could make herself as comfortable as

possible so as to rest for a bit, she tried to redirect the flow

of dark and gloomy thoughts as soon as possible, for they were

ever more sinister, she wanted to attach her thoughts to something

more pleasant, something which wouldn't oppress her or cause

anxiety in her soul, so there, she began to shiver, and not

knowing what to do she began to sing, but it seemed like somebody

else's voice, a children's song about the imminent arrival of

spring, or more precisely of May, with the blooming of violets,

not just modest little violets but full, large ones, and all the

leafy branches, es, es, es, which she had once sang solo at a

school party in front of the whole choir, es, es, es, but the

mounting sorrow and melancholy squeezed her throat even more and

her voice mutated, she began to sing out of tune and shook with

fear, as though somebody could devour her in the darkness, maybe

even the darkness itself, she didn't manage to finish the final

verse, tears once again began to fall from her eyes and flow down

her face like two swollen Amazons, making her older by one or two

hundred years than how she'd previously been, so she was now one

hundred and twenty-three or two hundred and twenty-three, around

that age, the girl rushed towards the lift to tell Sir and Madam

not to turn the off the lights in front of the villa since, heck,

someone light-fingered might be under the impression that there

was something worth nicking from this picket fence house, so she,

the Cunt, had made sure this wouldn’t happen to Signor and

Signora, that someone wouldn’t steal from those poor people, thus

naturally getting herself into a great big pile of shit in her own

very special way, bravo! fucking Ida, now you can rightfully say

that you've been fucked good and proper, fuc... f... f... uh, uh,

if I could just cry so much that I could dissolve like a bar of

soap, if I could just vanish, death's not such a rotten thing,

it's the dying part that's humiliating, whoever the next person is

to call this shitty lift and opens the door is going to find my

corpse, that's that chick who ran after Mrs Anera and Mr Antonio

so that they'd spend a few extra lira on electricity, but with

this trick they'd manage to scare away the burglars and prowlers

from their house, so there, that's the girl, the gal, like they

say where I'm from, silly bint, she got what she deserved when she

goes around poking her nose in where it's not welcome, she invoked

all of the heavenly powers to punish her with a most terrible

death for such unnecessary and excessive eagerness, I didn't

deserve any better than this sort of end, she lopped off her head

with the sharpest of axes and tried to imagine herself in the most

unpleasant of agonies, she called upon her fear which, the

bastard, was hiding somewhere and, strangely, she couldn't feel

it, it was probably lurking in ambush until she loses it, and then

it'll probably come when all of this fake courage which she'd been

feeling had passed, and it'd have to pass because, there it was,

she was already feeling a bit tired of all this floundering around

it the dark, she'd have loved to have been overcome by

claustrophobia and to have lost her mind while still cursing,

while she could still lament, still vent her spleen, still sing

songs about the Spring's arrival, the leafing branches and

blooming violets, it's all alright, which means she still believes

in some sort of fucking hope and happiness, somehow she'll have to

cope with that fear of hers, behold, I'm not even allowed to think

about that any more, one should be sat at a table in front of the

“Primavera” cafe right now, where young people gather to have a

drink, make eyes at each other and gossip about absolutely

everything, just for a moment, for just as long as they were in

sight, look at that one just about to disappear behind the corner,

you'll never guess who’s screwing her, you know who's on my radar,

her Charles III blabbers, I bet you’ll never guess for as long as

you live, you know him like the back of your hand, where's that

female nose of yours which Faulkner generously bestowed upon you,

and you've been snagged on his hook so we can't even fool around

about it, do you know, Charles, if you’ve actually read anything

at all, what was it Faulkner said about women, come on, the wheel

of fortune spins for everyone, the guy became very impatient, but

I know, thought Ida, I know he's not trying to bother me with this

as much as he wants me to be aware of just how completely devoted

he is to me and how he trusts me, so faithful, in fact, that he

tells me things a man shouldn't tell a woman, especially if, at

the same time, that woman is, let's say, his girlfriend – IT'S NOT

ADVISABLE – to talk to your woman, because women have long hair

and short memories, and maybe the girl will become conceited, and

who knows what tomorrow brings, if he does the same with her too,

while she feels like lounging around like a corpse, she considers

and instantly bites her tongue, because it looks as though all

roads lead to something which stinks like a corpse – ALL ROADS

LEAD TO ROME – she grinned with the intent of poking fun at

herself, remembering how her Charles III was one hundred percent

right when he'd scoffed at female intuition because now too she

was using it as a weapon to identify her association with a person

who is completely at leisure and who is thinking of nothing apart

from drinking beer and getting his great big head drunk, alas, the

thought of the prone, motionless and lifeless body again caused a

thumping in her mind, I'm trapped here in this stupid concrete and

iron, you ought to do something woman, at least give it some

thought, and she strained her hearing so that it might hear any

sort of sound or anything that might resemble even the slightest

murmur, I feel as though someone will contact me, she says,

putting her tongue between her jaws, and she then got something

more powerful out, I feel as though nobody will contact me, I feel

as though I'll get jack shit, my old dear, you're just as

indestructible as your Bogomils once were even if you are trapped

in stone, you can't die, and so it must be... you'll live for as

long as you want, you can't die for seven hundred or maybe even a

thousand years, and then I won't want to exist any more, I'll live

the same way fish live swimming in the sea whilst the crew of a

ship are drowning, I'll survive even if I have to eat myself, all

of this iron, I'll scratch away at this concrete with my nails,

I'll see Mr and Mrs Sforza again, and I'll retell what happened in

detail – THERE WAS ONCE AN EMPRESS WHO LIVED FOR SIX HUNDRED YEARS

– and then I'll publish a book about it and, let's say, I'll give

it the title Alive in a Grave, and I'll achieve fame and money for it,

and this this girl will visit the whole wide world with tones of

money, not travel around – indeed visit, I won't serve anyone any

more, I'll just be enjoying myself, heck, at last, that'll be the

life, a proper good time, if I'd at least seen that, putting up

with all of this torment has been worth it, but whilst she was

caught up in this unhealthy enthusiasm, all of a sudden, out of

nowhere, she was grabbed by the throat, she was struck by one tiny

little thing – THAT'S THE REAL THING– she banged her foot against

the floor in the same way as when a man receives an electric

shock, then, like a cork, she let out a frightful cry like animals

do before a flood and all that she remembered was to admit to

herself that absolutely nothing comes of big words and never

anything great, rather they usually just leave behind a barren

egg, small things are the most important because they're the

essence of life and its seal, I live as I die, if somebody wishes

to split hairs, come on, out of all the sinners did it really have

to be me who gets caught in this trap, she asks herself, listening

to her voice in this sepulchral silence and still holding onto the

door handle which she didn't intend to release for at least

another six hundred years, or even never, no chance of it, until

Judgement Day, should one stop believing that God wouldn't forget

to whisper to those two that they'd forgotten some little bloody

item, for instance their international driving license, and that

because of that the pair of them would have to come back, find her

here and everything would be sorted out in a second just as it had

all got buggered up in a second, those are the shitty little

things which make up life – LIFE ISN'T A LITTLE THING BUT LITTLE

THINGS MOST OFTEN MAKE LIFE – braissimo, che bella machina! what a cute

little story that would be, a novelissimus, which you could earn a

load of money from, but like this, if I don't make it out alive

then someone else will have to attempt to describe the

indescribable, tell the untellable, God, what am I blabbering

about, I need to be born again out of the darkness, I shouldn’t...

she thought but out of superstition she didn’t dare finish off

that with which she once again wanted to nonchalantly joke, to say

what was logical to say, she forced herself to come out of her

pondering, to stop talking bollocks, listen, what else do I need

to think hard about, she spoke, persuading herself, but no

salvation came to her, and thus she became even more afraid of

that which she'd intended to say a second ago, isn't that an

opportunity for Mr Falkner to finally prove his theory and throw

Charles III to his knees, she didn't wish or even want to play

with words any longer, let it be how I didn't think it'd be, she

said out loud, and at the same moment, in fact, she realised that

she was just fooling herself into thinking that, as usual, the

opposite of what she was saying would happen, but she got caught

up in this infantile gambit, fine, she said in a conciliatory

manner as though she was in the lift with someone opposite her or

who was at least listening on the other side of the door, if it's

already time for God to summon me and for me to send him some sort

of account then I should do this with as little rancour and as

much dignity as possible so that I don't end up in that same shit

when you start whispering all sorts of bollocks to yourself, like

when someone tries to trick their thirst by drinking sea water, I

can't believe that nor can I begin to imagine but I can comprehend

that my life from now on depends upon this stale air and spit

instead of the water which I would have in me until something

happens, hmm, she restrained herself, but what else can happen in

this shit apart from that, mia carra, carrissima, why the devil

did you have to force yourself to fly around like a headless

chicken, you didn't even fly, you went down headfirst like a

Japanese kamikaze, even he wouldn't be so fanatically attached to

the emperor as when you fanatically went down headfirst, dear me,

heavens above, serves you right, you had to warn them to leave the

outside lights on, right now you could have been taking off on one

of those red buses, honey, rushing to your Charles III, you know,

Carletto Terzo, what's happened to me, when I left home to go to

you, you've no idea what sort of shit a person can get into

because of technology, you know those outside lights of ours, well

this girl here had a narrow escape from getting stuck in the lift,

God only knows if anyone would've thought of getting me out of

there because the old folks had gone off to America for a month,

and I'd have kicked the bucket by then for sure, no more Ida,

she's gone, she's gone, not even two per cent of Ida is left, and

you're sulking like some sort of peacock, I'm angry, when have I

not come to you first, you couldn't give a fuck that Hungary

doesn't have a sea, I can't believe, Charles, that you would ever

come to take a look at whether that bitch of yours is alive or

not, there's no cow, I can do without the cow, cows are ten a

penny, there's no chance of you lugging those two giant suitcases

of yours over to my place, so, you see, your Ida needs that sort

of trifle, it'd be enough for her if you treated me like an idiot

for the next two years, no way, for a whole millennium, until the

return of the four riders of the apocalypse, you could knead me up

just like loam, dick around with me until your heart's content,

but you're not capable of that, and not only are you not capable

of doing that, rather you'd never think of having fun like that,

and if in some circumstances it would occur to you, you’d simply

cave in out of your own pathetic shame, I don't know, maybe even

out of pride that you could have thought up something as

sophisticated, I can't fucking stand those sorts of men, but the

biggest dope in all of this is me for letting myself fall in love

with such a waste of space, knob-jockey, lady-boy, the piercing

pressed deeper into her brain, but she no longer felt like

improvising and imagining what would be if it would only be, I

call, and call, and call, and what, it's like someone trying to

use a turd to contact Jupiter from Earth, I'd rather call God

Almighty than a living person now, and again – call, call, call –

SHE COULDN'T CALL HIM, HIS FAITHFUL LOVE – so there, mio Carletto,

your Ida has disappeared as if God had never put her into this

world – IF I WAS TO WRITE TO YOU I WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO BECAUSE

EVEN THE PAPER WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO STAND IT, IT WOULD CRY OVER MY

MYSERY JUST AS BITTERLY -

her relative has a tumour on his brain

new dolls which she bought

an Irish fisherman

an old woman with a bundle of wood on her back

a boy gave up on his trip to L.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,

catch an Ida by her toe

mum, what's a boogie man?

what's a lift?

Actually, a lift is a technical device used for easier and

faster ascent, or descent, between higher and lower, or lower and

higher, floors, my dear father, I went to get Marija, mum let me

go, I'll be back soon, oh dear me, what do I need this chic-lit

novel for, dear God, is this really happening to me, I keep

expecting that at any moment I'll just wake up, I'd never go in

the lift again, I dreamed that I was flying out of an aeroplane

towards the earth, towards the ground, and every second I kept

expecting to crash into it and break up into a billion different

pieces, and the seconds lasted for a whole eternity, I saw

cultivated fields and peasants on them as clear as day and they

looked like little specks getting closer and closer, but I could

never finally reach them, the specks became larger and larger, and

then I could even tell what was being grown in the fields, I think

it was corn and wheat, and just when I expected to go splat, I was

jolted from my dream, it took me a long time to compose myself,

but I'm pleased that it wasn’t the real world, I mean, while I

tried to catch my breath and as I’m lying, all sweaty, on my

crumpled bedding, I'm telling myself that only now do I realise

just how terrible, bloody and, above all, beautiful life is, why

are people so afraid of what they do not hold dear, personally I

don't know how to how to convince myself of the possibility that

in a single moment a person is something composed by chance, and

his whole conscious life is one terrible fear that this

coincidence – natural or, perhaps, God's gift – might start

falling apart in a single moment, so for this reason I was happy

that once again I found myself on this more beautiful part of the

real word in the same way as I'm now on the more ugly part, why is

life so if I didn't really always have a particular desire to

extract the juice from it which could humiliate me in front of it,

if I can say what I usually felt, it was always true, or at least

it seemed to me like that, I can't express it in the way my

feelings recorded it, so when I fail to describe or understand

them, it’s still far from that shiny moment, just as I'm still not

fit to understand my position here as a caged beast, when my life

here means the same as the life of a single ant in Australia,

everything depends upon those five or six turns of the fuse on the

control panel which restore the electrical circuit to the lift, so

there, Ida, don't be so pathetic when you know that your life

depends upon a single, small, tiny, wee little thing like the tip

of a finger, the fuse, Ida, we said that we wouldn't be pathetic,

let's not give up, my dear other self, even if we used to make fun

of one another, now's the time to unite and push together, she

thought, again excited and wondering where all of this strength

and self-belief had suddenly come from, but this time she was

careful not to graze up against that dangerous afterthought of how

her excitement was misleading and unhealthy and was in no way

linked to reasoning, rather the poor thing concentrated on that

impetus like on some whispering from the side which knows what is

going on, it wasn't entirely clear to her whether it was God who

was comforting her and giving her strength or if it was her other

self who was supporting her and encouraging her out of a sense of

gratitude because she'd summoned her and was not allowing her to

wallow in despair, lets push together, my other self, lets be by

each other’s sides like Siamese twins, I'm the bastard who only

calls you when he needs you, it's only now that I really see how

much your company and comfort mean to me, Ida, Anti-Ida, whatever

your name is, can the two of us be together, even if we've been

different till now, we need to stay alive until those two return

so that we can tell them all about what happened to us, we need to

tell them the whole story, those two pitiful creatures, who would

swim across the ocean if they only knew what sort of a mess they'd

left us in, is it really possible, Ida, that you could have put up

with it all, besides, I trust that a person is a perfect animal

which can adapt to anything, just like the pair of us have adapted

to this dark lift, God forgive me, good old Antonio would say, I

could have become a killer through no fault of my own, dear God

forgive me, and I'll reply in that sort of quiet, phony voice like

in many of those trashy American movies, that above all what's

most important is that we save those two or three hundred

kilowatts because, you know what, while you were away for a month

the price of electricity soared by twelve per cent, it's now 215

lira per kilowatt, two hundred by two hundred… he who wastes not

wants not, my bosses deserve that their employee takes care of

everything, I know what they'll think, a girl like this is hard to

find, our Ida, you know full well how uncouth those bimbos can be,

they're just looking to see what they can pinch from your house

and then vanish into thin air while you're still at work, they

disappear without a trace, as though the earth has eaten them up,

or – worse still – they'll bring lovers over and right in front of

our eyes, saying, like, what are you staring at, haven’t you ever

seen a man and a woman together before, yes, ladies and gentlemen,

they'll bring their lovers over, tones of them, and then they’ll

start calling them friends and similar nonsense, today, dear

ladies and gentlemen, women go out with all kinds of rabble, we've

nothing against it, but we don't want them bringing something

nasty into the house, she didn't even get to know him properly,

but she's already gone to bed with him, even animals don't behave

like this, even they follow their mating rhythm, that's why it’s

not surprising that AIDS has started to kill them all off like

rats, the only thing worth regretting being that besides them it

also does away with the innocent and the blameless, children who

are contaminated by these scumbags, may their seed rot – and what

then? - crying, tears and all of those lovely things, I’d get rid

of it as soon as possible: yuk! yuk! yuk! And that's the end of

the sermon, and not: ring-ring social services, ring-ring prison,

ring-ring judges, ring-ring lawyers, ring-ring doctors, ring-ring

for fucking hell, ring-ring this, ring-ring that; just as long as

it’s not my fault, so, you see, my dear ladies and gentlemen, can

you imagine what it means to have a girl like our Ida, she's a

treasure which words simply do not do justice, she's a treasure,

this now echoed in Ida's consciousness, but she didn't have the

strength to keep thinking about it and at the same moment she

imagined herself stretched out across the floor of the lift, lying

on shards of glass like a circus clown, but without the makeup and

mask and that great big apple-red nose, sad eyes, a pair of tears

drawn on beneath them, seemingly rolling down the cheeks of that

powdered face, for God's sake, she asked herself, where am I

lying, and at the same moment she got up, looked at the place

where the mirror was meant to be, passed with the palm of her hand

across its surface and guessed at what her face looked like at

this moment, I'm the prettiest girl in the world, she thought, and

then grimaced in the direction of where her reflective other ought

to have been, but quickly turned her head to the side so as to

ostensibly not be looking and not feel disappointed if she caught

a glimpse of a wrinkle on her face, she pictures herself now

pitifully gazing sideways at the wall's invisible plastic surface,

she remembers for a moment that she's lost that other her and that

she should do something to summon her back again, God only knows,

how long she'd be staring like that just as lethargic people stare

if the other her hadn’t been in contact, having asked her, Ida,

have you ever seen anything similar to what you are seeing now,

for instance, have you ever seen a film or read a book similar to

this, because you have to admit that film and literature are full

of mighty blokes who manage to get themselves caught up in this

sort of shit like you're caught up in, don't you realise that you

don't even have to be particularly stupid to get into this sort of

a mess, it just happens without any specific reason, you'll end up

dying like all of those people who get sucked into the ground

during an earthquake and croak it there, the hell with the god who

created you, not even a little kid would have gone rushing into

the lift in the way that you did, if only you'd had the slightest

inkling that it could stop like that at any moment, it's as though

you rushed towards an oncoming train, believing that you could

stop it using just your body and outstretched arms, behold, what

happens, happens, her voice trembled in pain, aha, I know who got

me into this situation, I know now, she wanted to shout it out,

but her voice was entirely mute, now I've managed to make all the

connections, I get it now, I don't know what I've been thinking

till now, how could I have failed to see such a trifle, a trap and

it's been here in front of my nose the whole time, oh dear, may

you be spared a good night's sleep or and a full stomach until the

end of time, she cast a Bosnian curse upon Mr Antonio Sforza,

beautiful Ida, when that arse hole returns he probably won't have

the guts to look me in the eyes, that is if I give him a chance,

I'd like to experience that moment even if I had to drop dead

immediately afterwards – AND UPON SAYING THAT HE CRUMBLED INTO

DUST ON THE DOORSTEP – how could I have. Dear God almighty, to

have been deceived by something as cheap as that, she tried, as

much as she could, to patiently pluck something from her broken

and jumbled memories, bring together the shreds of conversations

between herself and Mr Sforza about the Bosnian Bogomils which had

been so magical that for a long time after this she'd been unable

to break herself away from a sense of the evil premonition that

he'd in fact been provoking her, and that through this humiliation

he'd also, in a way, been coming on to her, and all along blood

was rushing to her face because of the excessively intimate tone

he used when addressing her by first name, and she felt a sense of

discomfort and anxiety because of this and everything was flashing

in front of her eyes: him and the Christians who were hated and

persecuted by the whole of Europe, and so she gave herself the

right to think that this was another confrontation between Europe

and Bosnia through conversation between her and Mr Sforza, whose

ancestors could have very easily been in some of the punitive

expeditions with which the Pope threatened Bosnia because of its

disobedience and heresy, it seemed to her as though he was mocking

her and making fun of her damned ancestors in a very indiscrete

manner , which, whatever the circumstances, can't be deemed either

appropriate or especially witty, like that night once, Ida, were

the Bogomils cannibals and did they live in incest – father with

daughter, son with mother – he's read this in a book, and it had

to be true because they recognised Satan as being an equal partner

to God on the other side, and whoever believes in that sort of

thing would, of course, by anybody's reckoning, have to be a

cannibal... sodomite, homosexual, lesbian, and a mongoloid,

paraplegic, tetraplegic and whatever else creeps and crawls on

this planet, and they wanted to establish this evil secret and

give it dignity and legality, ascribing to it something inherent

to human nature, or rather, human instincts, so, the pair of us

are blabbering about something which we ourselves know nothing

about, we build our suppositions on a foundation of sand, each

keeping to our own ambush, imagine, she remembers how she once had

the intention of telling him that if you, Sir, had been born where

I was born then we would find it very easy to understand each

other, your teasing would be all about my fanny and everything

would depend upon my good or bad will, but – I say – this just

flashed through my mind for a second and didn’t go farther than

that, I didn't have the courage to say it out loud and, in fact,

why would I tempt the Devil, your wife would probably consider

this to be a scandal which would be a perfectly good reason for me

to end up on the street together with the rags I had when I first

came here, neither of use were so carless as to blabber out any of

that, even if it was absolutely true that you would lose me in

this way, and I your wonderful wife Madam Anera, who knew how to

afford me such absolutely lovely moments, so, that's what I was

telling myself and biting my lip so as not to reveal anything in

front of Mr Sforza, while he carried on peacefully puffing away on

his pipe and intellectualising about the barbarity and cannibalism

of the Bosnian Christians and thus the barbarity and cannibalism

of my ancestors, whose blood I know flows through veins, but I

told him this: I, Sir, am ready to eat you for breakfast, but he

used this as an opportunity to carry on wooing me by using

something Dali once said, about how everybody who truly loves

someone feels a need to eat them, and so, so there, Miss Ida, it

can be for breakfast, as you have just declared, laughing

insincerely with his elderly lust which sent chills running down

my whole body and caused me genuine concern and anxiety due to his

indiscreet allusion, and that’s probably the reason why he

prepared this joke with the lift so that I'd have to eat myself in

order to stay alive, because, as he says, after I rejected his

advances, I clearly only love myself and would probably one day,

if the eccentric Dali is to be believed, eat myself out of

overriding love or narcissism, oh God, she thought with a sadness

in her voice, everything has its limits, even my illusions, if

they these are illusions, last night I saw that face which for

some reason was so terribly sad and melancholic that I myself

wondered why Sir was so sad, especially at the moment when he

clenched his fist on the dining room table which was covered with

a light-blue chequered tablecloth, wearing a shirt which hung down

over his trousers and it seemed as though at any second he'd say,

to hell with it, Ida, can't you see that soon I could go mad

because of you, are you really that blind or just pretending to

be, so much so that I'm going to try and get away from you for a

month, if my heart allows it, wouldn't you at least once honour me

with a kiss, those lips of yours keep cropping up in my dreams and

finally you gobble me up, and not like this, the pair of us

bickering over some unimportant things in which you see your

misplaced ancestors, what really happened to them, even I wouldn't

know, I would only be able to sense something and it wouldn’t get

more serious than that, and in that moment she closed her eyes

even if she couldn't really do that because of the darkness, once

again trying to recall those final moments from her flat's back

door and those few paces over to the lift, and just then she was

struck by single detail which she'd entirely forgotten until then,

that Sir, before she'd run over to the lift, must have definitely

seen her because he'd been able to hear her calling, and therein

see at least her hands and fingers on the staircase's iron

railings, thus, he had to have heard her, he would have heard her

bawling no matter how deaf he might have been, and he waited for

her to enter the lift and then, when he saw that the indicator

light had come on – a sign that, with her in it, the lift had

begun to descend – he waited for it to be in-between floors, in

front of the wall's great big surface, and he then unscrewed the

fuse.

With this conclusion a panic took a hold of her, once again

she felt that same chill run down her whole body, she broke out in

an icy sweat, all over her body and God knows for as long as the

excitement would last until all of a sudden she would pass out

onto the floor. Half conscious, she sensed the flash of Charles

III's hand as well as his inept attempt on the park bench at

putting her hand on his thing.

No, my dear Charles, it's not time for that yet. Besides, that

isn't everything...

2.

In some sense, I have always exhibited a tendency towards the

excessive, I listened with a great deal of respect and amazement

at how my father laughed at me with so much skill and violence,

carping on at me from time to time because of that tendency of

mine and scolding me by saying that I havn't got any of his blood

in me. I loved some things: the smell of pipe tobacco, whether it

was just packed or even lit; I found it so much more pleasant than

the smell of stale cigarette smoke. I can still taste the flavour

of fresh strawberries and whipped cream, however, above all else,

I loved to stick my nose between the opened pages of my French-

Serbian dictionary from 1898, with the printed stamp of its former

owner, a certain Dragoljub Ž. Jovanović. Besides this, I adored

the evenings when I would dream of misty desires, feeling a

certain degree of fear that somebody might enter my room – mum,

dad or my brother – and see what I was doing, and so from then

onwards I started feigning a tendency for migraines as a way to

get away from them and justify my insatiable longing for solitude

and dreaming.

Nevertheless, I often became concerned about the particular

degree of mysticism which appeared in my dreams, coming on its own

accord and then imposing itself upon me, conquering and occupying.

For a start, I noticed that the place where I was standing,

walking and living was never the place where I was at that point

in time, or that I should have at least recognised it, if I had

been there before. It seems that I must have found it far too

nice, so a considerable amount of time had to pass for me to be

able to notice and determine that this simple little thing was a

bit unusual.

The other thing was that nobody I knew ever appeared in those

gentle dreams of mine. Well, the names of my mother, father,

brother and acquaintances cropped up here and there, but not one

face resembled any of theirs. As I saw in this an unconscious

desire for moral exclusion from life, I tried to remain in this

new world of mine, having been entirely unable to escape from its

charms, and from then onwards I measured all things against the

yardstick of childish beauty and inexperience. This tormented me

so much that I felt a physical pain in my breasts. At that time, I

found my only refuge and peace in solitude and dreaming. If a

person was as powerless as he wanted to be, life would probably be

less interesting.

I'll rip off that decoration on your shoulders

I'll stretch out your skin to make a drum.

We'll deceive them good and proper. Then he died, not thinking

about anything. His mind was entirely overcast with darkness.

Tevhida is religious, that'll save her. The best protection when

faced with the Devil is not to pay heed to him. Humility does not

mean slavery, rather it is avoiding arrogance. You've got to have

a lot of future in front of you not to think about anything. But

what happens when there is no more future?

It’s not that I didn't – I swear! Maybe I even did. But who

knows what I myself don't even know. An eloquent speaker and an

attentive listener... The bag was heavy and the presents were very

expensive, he was grabbing his ears so as not to fall asleep...

While he was sitting at the wheel, he was thinking about the

possibility of a wild revenge against those who had wronged him...

Both the first and the second Ida live together, now for almost

twenty-three years in the same body, but with a different soul,

which was apparently always flowing from me and roaming with

unbridled delight, inflicting countless greetings upon the other

one, enough for sixteen lifetimes, exactly how much I need to come

to terms with my own death, and I, whose power was so great that

when I was fifteen I'd entertained fantasies that I would even

have a chance with God himself, and then I immediately concluded

that the world, it seems, was only waiting for me, so that in its

unhappiness it could carry on revolving around me, so that I would

explain to him and solve all of his worldly, and even

otherworldly, dilemmas and that his waiting for me was, in fact,

his prehistory before my divine arrival and divine revelation,

which I had composed on one beautiful January morning (of course,

in a metaphorical sense, not meteorological), without any prior

notice, without anybody having been enlightened about a descent

from the heavens, I forced a fear upon humanity as to what I'd do

with it when I had not been there for so long, yes, I remember

what was written in the newspaper, that there were rumours about

some sorts of prophets, however, there were Muslim and Christian

ones and some others too, so one was expected in America and is

probably still eagerly awaited to this very day, people staring

into the sky all day long – there's loads of that sort thing there

– a dream, I read, as I said, a serious warning in a newspaper

about how it was high time that some sort of new God descended to

Earth, or whatever else he would be called? – because all of the

former gods had either been destroyed or people’s trust in them

had been totally lost, and at that point, in all seriousness, I

pointed at myself, standing as a fifteen year old kid in front of

the mirror, divining and interpreting my nightmares as a reliable

sign that I was the Messiah who people had been awaiting in their

nightmare, but then, all of a sudden, and for God knows what

reason, an abrupt reversal occurred so that I automatically let

myself know and reproached myself thinking that I was just another

shithead on this planet and so I couldn't have abused the right of

being God's heir or heiress, whatever you want to call it – may

his will be done – mercy and omnipotence, when I myself wasn't

able to deceive myself with an ever greater spectrum of lies and

fibs, that there were no limits to my power, as is the case with

everyone else, and so in a phantasmagoric hyperbole I started to

laugh at everything around me, Ida, you lunatic, oh, Ida, half-

mad, I think to myself: what strange things happen in your mind,

what strange spells are you under, and in the middle of the night

when all decent honest people are asleep, apart from me, whores

and thieves, and then, after such agonising non-sleep trying to

get to the bottom of what is my and what is the devil's work,

toiling myself indefinitely, until the contours of the landscape

begin to show at dawn, the corners of the blinds which didn’t

cover the window frames had begun to whiten, and still for a long

time I was unable to fall asleep on those sheets, which were now

crumpled up beneath me in the shape of a rugby ball with a hole

indented on the couch, as though I'd dug out my own grave, and

that's how it was until recently, poor thing me, I finally

realised that not only was I not that long awaited God for whom

people had been gazing up at the sky, and not only did nothing

make any sense to me any longer, but also that I didn’t understand

anything, especially because I allowed myself so naively to be

trapped inside these four walls, four proper walls which even

Sing-Sing can't boast with, so we’re talking about four smooth

walls made out of reinforced concrete which hurt your fists the

second you hit it just a bit harder and from which there's no

escape unless a miracle occurs, but miracles only happen in fairy

tales, not in lifts, so, Ida, little Ida, you freak, this is how

you're going to die, unblemished in the middle of a dark lift, virgo

intacta, having been unable to find any strong evidence for your

holiness, which is the most beautiful and the saddest illusion in

this life of ours – who says that this is actually our life? – I'd

never dreamed of that illusion, and again I was trying to please

it, depriving myself of the right to trick that little fallen

angel in me which was already moaning because of its weakness,

fuck it, Ida, it’s bollocks, go on, use your head and give some

thought to how you can get yourself out of here, and if you manage

to do that then, surely, you'll be right about everything else you

say and make claim to, you can keep caressing those fanny hairs

until the end of time, and keep dancing around the cock, words are

useless if you're not even capable of having a joke at your own

expense, and it's the naked truth that you're not allowed to

succumb to the temptation that you should wish to pray at your own

funeral as though you're experiencing the most usual experience of

going just like, in fact, millions of other people do as part of

humanity at the end of the day, and that you wouldn't, Ida, fool

yourself, this ain’t happening, this is now a far more serious

matter than the intellectual masturbation with the daily black

coffee and sweets routine, and a little pastry or two in a cake

shop, oh God, I can't wait to finally wake up, to finally cross

over that red line between life and death, dream and reality, fact

and fiction, fear and apathy, you can’t pretend here, you have to

do something for these fucking doors to open – OPEN SESAME –

otherwise, you've got nothing else to do but sit on the lift's

floor, stick your head between your legs like some sort of a

shitty ostrich and admit to yourself that the party's over,

sister, you've made it to the end, all that remains to be done is

to pray for your soul and get ready to cross over to Akhriah, by

God, all this is just passing illusions and complete bullshit

because life is a hell of an interesting thing, and everybody who

hasn't considered taking their own life would have to agree about

that, it's not just a matter of courage which comes in handy when

a guy is determined to wait in ambush and then kill himself, God

forbid that the situation becomes urgent, as is the case with me,

that whilst alive I breathe the air which could cost me so much,

so that the whole world talks about how I choked on my own CO2) and

that those pitiful hacks fill up their newspaper columns with my

tragedy, just to let the retarded readership know that something

is happening – even if on somebody else's account – bleating about

the unfortunate Tevhida (“What sort of a name is that”) which

will, of course, to some dutiful and zealous hypocrites be a good

reason to write a sharp-tongued letter to the editors of

newspapers, radio stations and television channels about how that

last case with that young Tekvida Agalar (who could even possibly

pronounce that oriental h of theirs?) was a blatant and sad example

of how our lifts have in some way become killer lifts, so, Ida, if

you carry on in that direction you might still be able to cry over

your own obituary, this with you is becoming more and more like a

parade and less like what it actually means, this way of thinking

it starting to sound a bit pathetic in this sense: THE KILLER

LIFT... WATER AND FIRE MAKE GOOD LORDS BUT BAD SERVANTS... no:

GOOD SERVANTS BUT EVIL LORDS and similar proverbs with which the

reader will cure his idleness, but within five minutes he'll have

already forgotten and will lasciviously gawp at some bird's legs,

tits and arse on the next page.

So fucking boring!

O sole mio, o, mio dolore, finally that I should say something

lean before my mind is completely drained, o sole mio, quanta

bella giovinezza, che si fuge tuta via, it's already been forty

hours since I ate anything, there, that's what my watch, which I

broke the glass on, tells me, it's now twenty past two in the

morning, and I've been here since ten o'clock in the morning the

day before yesterday, I have to keep touching the hands to count

how many times they've gone round so that I don't confuse day with

night outside, it's now... it was midnight two and a half hours

ago and the dawn will break, woe, ah, ah, ah, why, to die, why?

There are still another twenty-seven days until their return: 27

times 24 equals 648 hours, which is... 8880 minutes, which is...

times sixty... five hundred and thirty-eight thousand eight

hundred seconds, God, it’s a long time... Ida, shake my hand so

that we shall get through this together and together await the

return of those two corpses from the United States, I'll sit here

on the floor like this so as not to waste energy – BE RATIONAL

WITH ENERGY – all alone in the world, it seems to me as though I

wouldn't be this lonely even if I was on the Moon, or on Pluto,

listen to me now, my little pet, God won't listen to me – HE WON'T

HEAR ME – don't let him keep making fun of you and turn the dogs

on you, stop being hypocritical like some sort of idiot and smile

at everybody and everywhere even if they put shit under your nose,

you're not like that, you've still got your ancestors' Bogomil

blood in you, you're deathly pale, you can feel it in your

weakness, you're lucky that you can't comprehend it and see it in

the mirror because of the darkness, I can feel which side of the

life the mirror is, later I'll just be able to take a little

glimpse of it because of the light coming from the floor beneath

me, but I will only barely be able to see outlines of something

which might be my face, but I can't make out anything from it, oh,

mother dearest, – MAMMA, IO SO TANTO FELICE! – perche, pourquoi...

why, why, why?... my mother, Scheherazada Hadžihafizbegović, and

my father, Abaz Agalar, would a man be able to move into oblivion

and not have to remember so many superfluous things which just

give him a headache and torment him, those things that just insult

and humiliate him in front of himself, in front of God and other

people, and they prevent him from unhindered entrance into the

heavenly realms of serenity when the only thing a person feels is

joy at being alive, breathing and seeing before him the miracle of

life which he entered into by chance, well, well, he's not

destined to always successfully wrest himself from all of the

visible and invisible forces around him, which usually attack his

pitiful life, wanting to take away the little remaining air which

he has left, God still hasn't managed to find his reflection in

people, so that's therefore that elusive moment which only those

who have nothing to lose apart from what they got at birth, those

dimwits who bypass Him for their whole lives, eeny, meeny, miny

moe, catch a tiger by its toe, if it hollers let it go, eeny,

meeny, miny, moe! Out came the white Russian and fell in the

cabbages... an old man with a flaxen beard entered the room and

nobody knew where he slept, the only thing they knew was that he

would always turn around and look back when somebody would shout

to him: Shave it! Little Ida swallows pills from a little tin box

upon which there are letters, beginning with a large P: Plivadon.

Houseflies were buzzing around with an agonising monotony

Houseflies – house of lies...

letters sent by recorded delivery. a capital R

sketches

photographs

documents

froth on a beer

there was a lot... a lot or much? There were a lot of noise and

sunlight

What's it like to be a male?

Bach and tinned food: yesterday at nine o'clock in the evening, on

the ninth of July, at 21:00, he and she have dinner, and then

afterwards light a cigarette, wine, a blue tie, a ring with a

black stone on the right hand's ring finger, two boxes of cheap

sardines in soya oil and a smaller tin of beans

Houdini, the king of illusions

The anthropodrome (wouldn't it be wonderful if horses were

people's jockeys, and that the human winners had wreaths hung

around their necks). You know, at the bookmaker’s when they're

offering odds on person number sixteen... “What's that beast

number 16 called?” Antonio Sforza! “Bene, bravissimo!”

I fear the realisation that I have a name, that I have an

identity, that I have my autobiography, that the police have my

record, that I'm a woman, that I'm still a girl and that perhaps I

don't even exist at all. Now, when I'm here where I think I am, I

can see what I'm really like, or rather, what sort of a girl,

woman or piece of arse I am... Imagine, Ida, if this sort of thing

was in the displays in shop windows: MAN, HOW SAD THAT SOUNDS. At

the same time, life is joy and pain, philosophy and chemistry,

physiology and metaphysics, fear and hope. It is futile to keep

giving birth to new creatures which will die, be forgotten before

they've even been lowered into their graves. What's the point in

living then? Is it some sort of obligation to yourself and those

who created you to live out your life? For your homework you were

set life, and you are now faced with the power of time and a

military obligation to put up with it until it drains out of you

and carries you in fog to infinity, where you will eternally

wander around like a damned outcast, never to return...

The Earth is one big cemetery, a mausoleum…

Everything emerges out of a tear, and must end with it too

All that literature is still missing are umbrellas and

fisherman's galoshes because literature has become an ocean of

tears; just like real life... and all of it, utterly pointless and

unnecessary...

Praise... is missing... in want of... Kadrija, who always sat

in the front row, would always say: “Praise so and so.”

Not even God could convince him that to praise is how it was

pronounced

Dosiness came over me like a little cloud of bliss.

To kill oneself means to anticipate events.

My grandfather Hasan used to say, and I remember it well, as

though I was listening to him right now, with more swagger about

his haemorrhoids than his diploma from the esteemed Gazi Husrev-

beg madrasah.

How could my mother carry those two great veranda-like tits of

hers? Aman jarabi jare sula ekstakfirla, I was always afraid of

her sad white clown-face.

WHAT IS NOT LOVE, IS NOT LIFE EITHER.

Bland and cheesy. If it were only pathetic, not half of grief

even.

FORMER FRIENDS ARE TWICE AS DANGEROUS AS ENEMIES

Gay and shitty.

Maybe that is so, but it's still gay and shitty.

Probably. Probably. They believe. He underlined such and such

Ibid. End of quote. I warn, but I really warn. I turn my attention

to the esteemed listeners. I. I and I. I say. I say. I know. I was

warning. I remember how I once literally said this: “We have to,

time isn't helping us anymore, it's true, time is no longer on our

side, time has turned its back on us, it's one minute till twelve.

I have twenty witnesses that I said precisely that... it turned

its back on us... someone said loudly, congratulations for the

real picture. One minute to twelve, if it's not already passed

twelve. But who to speak to?”

People don’t see anything, don't fully understand, and don’t

fully notice: all sorts of things are beyond their comprehension.

This civilisation possesses all necessities – from

contraceptive pills to crematoria.

And I, whether I want to or not, must forget. Signed by T.A.

Ibidem: A.D. MCMLCCCII, year of the Lord XXIII

This condition will last until my soul is completely broken,

because from hour to hour it comes to tear off a piece of me and

tell her that in life it is mostly calculated that that the

stranger in me startles me from my slumber and won't let me sleep

in peace, and she, before I've fully woken up, all in tears, sings

some sort of pious song, and only then realises that it isn’t

actually a religious song but rather a sad tune which she doesn't

know the words to, she just presumes that the text should be sad

and completely turned to face the sky, and it could easily be made

into some sort of sacred text and entered into the church hymn

book, oh merciful God, that is the tune which I once sung as a

little girly in church services and everyone in the church was

absolutely stunned at how that little Muslim girl sung

extraordinarily and masterfully, as if she was an angel from the

other world when compared to the hermaphrodite falsetto of young

Friar Gabriel, who used to drag us to church by offering us hot

green sweets, besides being burning they had a cross cut out on

both sides, and now, after who knows how long, those images came

to her mind, with fuzzy edges and reflections, which had a

pleasant sparkle to them in this darkness, so pleasant that I

could burst into tears over them remembering those long gone

experiences, and now what I’d like to do most would be to rest my

head on the shoulders of that other Ida so that we could have a

good weep there, so good that afterwards we would be so much

better, in the same way as its always better when you really throw

up properly because there's nothing left to torment your stomach.

I was afraid of that Ida, I presume, just as much as she was of

me, I frightened her, what a horror, I was wasting her trust

justifying that with the fact that I hadn't dared to uncover even

one of her vices, not even that I often imagined how parts of my

body went around the city in different directions, meeting up on

the main square to link up at one moment, and then a second later

separating and each going off in their own direction, without any

obligation or agreement to again meet up at a specified place as

they had done before, for instance, on the square, and I, or

rather my head, stayed on the ground to see if those same parts

will once again meet up beneath it or whether it will con its way

onto a different body and limbs, if it is all the same for the

head which arms or even legs it finds itself connected to and

controlling, and with regret I understand that it wouldn't be the

same, it wouldn't be the same head, nor would that head be able to

think in the same way, because it's one thing to have a head above

a paralysed person's body and an entirely different thing to have

it above that of an athlete, whilst it's an entirely different

thing again when the head is above a body which is pitifully

trapped in a lift, oh God, those other thoughts, what they are

like, that the exchanged head would be horrified by that which got

cooked up in them. Today's governments also want to swap our heads

with theirs, to blind them by its undertakings, such as that the

fate of the motherland depends upon us, that one fine day (not in

the meteorological but rather figurative sense) we can fly off to

Pluto, and other such things. My heart's now been emptied, my

brain's completely parched, and the soul – mine or hers – mislaid

somewhere and covered in dust, and this darkness stares at me like

a glass eye.

3.

His first and only love was my great-great-great-great-great-

grandmother Kosara, to whom he remained loyal and devoted until

the end of his life, although he was ten years and not even one

month old when he first caught sight of her at the local livestock

fair, while she was reading some stranger’s palm. At that point,

she'd lived ten times as many summers as that boy, or more

precisely, she was nineteen days short of her one hundredth

birthday, but she was absolutely aware that only that sort of kid

could make her happy forever, let's say for the next hundred or

two hundred years, until – as she swore – by Jove, it didn’t even

matter, because the years will most probably take their toll, so,

much later, on her deathbed, she confided all of her family

secrets to a neighbour since she didn't want to take them with her

to the other world, by God, she talked to her confidant for nine

days and ten nights, but on the ninth night, when she was

finishing her story, she ordered for all of her underwear to be

changed, to be washed and brushed with a bone comb, with the

thicker row of teeth, and then my great-great-great-great-great-

grandmother gathered her hands upon her stomach, the skin of which

resembled birch-wood bark, and released her soul without uttering

a word more, because she finally realised that in her three

hundred years of life, out of everything which she'd done, half of

the things had been done in vain, and three-quarters of her words

had been spoken into the wind; and for the most part, out of what

she had said, most of it was forgotten, just as what she had

uttered in these final five minutes of her life would also be

forgotten. What was worthy of memory, which she had done, was to

touch her breasts and think for just a moment: here, here I am,

everything around me is foreign because it doesn't resemble me.

I'm dying but the days, the earth and the sun will continue to

come and go rather than be confused by me no longer being here.

She wanted to remain indifferently tender for her soul, and

because of this she decided to end her visit to this world before

getting ready for the long journey, without any great words, which

she was somewhat inclined towards, and following her death the

neighbour recounted how Kosara smiled and blinked the eyes which

no longer had any eyelashes, apart from some bristles upon the

eyelids, whilst my great-great-great-great-great grandfather

Pribil, who was strange like any devoted man, as soon as he heard

about her death, immediately climbed up onto a cragged rock on a

nearby hill and plunged into the abyss with that same smile and

those same blinking eyes (as, probably, every husband and wife

have after two hundred years of marriage), holding onto the mist

as though it was wool, and when they later found the pieces of him

at the rocky bottom of the precipice, people set fire to his

house, destroyed his possessions and shackled the dead man and

buried him at a crossroads to the sound of a beating drum,

uttering curses at the same time, drink the milk of nine black

bitches, and then a blacksmith emerged from the masses to convince

my grandfather to be immortal with a chisel, however much that was

still possible, whilst others grumbled above the grave about

universal nothingness, and then about the nonsense of the stone

and the chisel, ah, what repulsive times those were, squawked

signora Anera, and signor Antonio Sforza started to laugh

frantically, like a real savage, openly and derisively, like some

sort of randy lunatic, calling the Bogomils all manner of

offensive names: sodomites, thugs, cannibals, animals and all

sorts of other names, but I was convincing those two aristocrats,

with a lump in my throat, that this can't be true and that I

hadn't told them everything I think, and that I beg them most

kindly to desist from interrupting me until I recount it all,

because I can't afford to lose sight of even one single fact which

would make these people's philosophy clearer to us, and their

unfortunate lives, which were most probably such because of this

philosophy, so that such an incredible thing would at least be a

little clearer to us, by God, those who were present lit a fire on

my grandfather's grave to warm up his soul and get rid of the fear

of death, but there, that same great-great-great-great-great

grandfather of hers visited her in a dream tonight and told her

that he'd come to her so that the pair of them could go off to

their Bosnia together, so that he can show her the house in which

he spent his childhood, to once again see his favourite linden

tree and whether it is still stood there in the same place and, if

it is, whether its thick canopy still casts a huge shadow almost

one hundred feet across, he did, he did, he dreamed of her, he

said, in the grave 'e saw 'er just 'ow 'e 'membered the last image of the sleepin'

Kosara five-'undred and nineteen years ago, durin' June, in the year of our Lord

fourteen-'undred 'nd sixty-three, pleading to all that is sacred that

nobody, whosoever, would reveal the holy secret, because they'll

find out and cut it, and he, at this moment, left, but wait,

where're you going, gramps, I beg him, but he answers that it was

enough for us to be together for as long as is takes for an

average-sized candle to burn down, and I, he says to me in a

conciliatory fashion, will come to you again in your dreams

tonight, and to your master, who is laughing and grinning so

savagely, calling the Bogumils savages, sodomites, cannibals and

animals, and God knows which other even nastier names, and I'll

tell him that which I constantly say to the stone above me, hissed

gramps in a dinosaur-like voice, and to that I ask him, what is

it, gramps, that you were saying to the rock, that the fact that

everyone meets their death is a small comfort for our fly-like

lives, but the greatest evil is when a person cannot find the

strength in himself to take his own life, ah, ah, dear God and

Satan, he directs his three eyes at me, which on his face looked

like three poorly sown buttons, can health exist without sickness

and power without impotence, and therefore a person feels two gods

– the god of the body and the god of the soul – because the body

was always divine since this was how Satan elevated it to the

highest of heights, and that's why man is incoherent, restless and

desperate, because – if only God exists – where does evil come

from, and if there is no God then where does goodness come from,

said my good grandfather, catching his breath, hissing like an

overheated pressure cooker, and if God and man aren't relatives

then why do they live together, why, answer me why, he gets closer

to my face, you don't have to answer me right now, because I'll

come to you again tomorrow, but not in your dreams any more,

rather when I'll be of most use to you, to guide and comfort you

because you've wandered into a foreign world, which will always

remain alien to you and will always have a locked door with a

million padlocks, you decided, it seems, to destroy yourself, like

these people you've created your own vulnerability in your heart,

and it'd be better if you'd remained a mystic like your ancestors

had been, a clown or an artist, so as to move in truth and the

beauty of life, which is more accessible to the imagination than

reason, well, my dear Tevhida, he said as though he was addressing

her, remember what your grandfather used to say, a clown riding

his wheelbarrow inside a circus arena better fits into the reality

of life than ghosts like your Lord and Lady Sforza can ever hope

for, and that's why the truth is viewed as a form of madness, and

its the same with us Bogomils, just as we raised our head

insatiably like a viper, by this point it was already impossible

to calm the fawnings and exhortations of Johannes de Kazamaris's

legacy with his chests full of crosses made out of precious alloys

or from, on the other hand, our compliances, however we needed to

be mercilessly beaten up and have all of our heads chopped off at

their bases, leaving us all with empty hearts, dried out brains

and souls swept by dust, when our white Bogomil paper had to be

written upon, so now it stares at all of you like a glass eye,

leaving the Vatican and other Christian deceivers, liars and

tailors of souls a historical monopoly on “the truth”, skilfully

narrowing it down at least to an ambiguous probability, because it

is one thing to see with one's eyes, and another thing to see

through these eyes and something entirely different to see within,

and also those illusions that our women walked around bear-

breasted, that they hoisted their skirts up above their knees,

that they cursed and stole, that they let themselves be humped in

front of their children and passers-by and would dance with their

bellies and buttocks, that's how they present us and how they'll

always present us, even though I shall now tell you that nobody,

absolutely nobody, can be a judge, everybody, in their own way,

will be destroyed and forgotten, and then, what is life other than

searching, finding and losing, and then the same again, and the

same again, and all over again, and the same again, the same ever

since the beginning of time until the Almighty summons us, well,

it was precisely that death, it was that which gave birth to God,

and with him love and fear taking away his freedom to dream

uninhibitedly, because a person is only free when he doesn’t love,

because he is no longer duty-bound to his heart, you know, my

grandchild, I really need to go now, he says with tearful eyes, is

it really possible that you've allowed yourself to be conned in

this way, ah, my God, I pulled myself out of this rapture as soon

as my grandfather evaporated, but at the very same moment the

mister and the missus appeared before my eyes together with their

close friends, it's hard to find a girl like our Ida today, if

only you knew what those sluts are like: the benevolent expression

does not leave their faces, and they'll steal from your eyes,

especially the ones who come from Yugoslavia and Africa, they

simply run off, or if that is beneath them then they won't bring

one lover but a whole multitude of them, and not only do they do

it up against a wall, on the floor, ma che, on your own bed, and

then crying, tears, social services, a war for child support, come

on, bourgeoisie, that's done on your territory, I've got

experience with them, but what will you do when you've got to rely

upon them, and any lira whatsoever comes in handy to them, that's

why I'm telling you, my gentlemen, it was dear God himself who

sent Ida to us just the way she is, we simply don't have the words

to express the love which we felt towards that wonderful girl,

just picture this, she chases after us to tell us that we should

leave the outside lights on because of thieves, we'll get through

a couple of hundred kilowatts more than usual just so that no

good-for-nothings don't dare to go poking around our villa, trust

me, everything will be in its place whilst we're here, in America,

our Ida's bloody good, we couldn’t have found a better girl… it

would be better if I had some light here, it would make things

easier for me, rather, I have to live like a mole, like those

first Christians down in the catacombs, Satan set me the craftiest

of traps, everything can eff off times two over, if only my

Charles III was here to give it to me good, before I have to stand

in line for the roll call, just to spite whoever laid this lousy

trap for me, I won't give up, what sort of a person would I be if

I'd already begun to despair, there always has to be hope that

something will come – but what's that something? Godonlyknows! –

as if he can definitely hear me and by some miracle turn the fuse

so that this shitty lift, with me inside it, starts moving

somewhere, either down or up, to imagine which direction my fate

is facing and whether my final illusion in this darkness will come

deus ex machina, Ida, if you at least had a small candle or a match

to illuminate your face in the mirror, I believe that I wouldn't

have any doubt that I'd save myself from this grave, maybe I

really will get out of it at any moment – who knows? - maybe one

of those two corpses will remember that they forgot something

important or maybe they heard my cries, which would only now seem

to them suspicious, hey, you fool, isn't there a more pleasant way

but to phone someone, listen, run back into our villa, our maid is

trapped in the lift there, please call the police, the fuse is on

the control panel, etc..., and yeah, I shouted, I really did

shout, at the top of my voice, so, if one of those two heard me,

and they were the only ones who could hear me, that means that

they wanted me to stay in the lift, if those two didn't hear me

then I don't even have a theoretical chance of anyone hearing me

now, firstly, because every single door is shut, secondly, because

I don't have any more energy to shriek like that again, I can't

believe that one of those two stiffs didn't hear me, she's got

particularly sharp hearing like all of those whose other senses

are failing, she can hear when someone lights a cigarette with a

match out on the street, she can recognise certain people by their

footsteps, from far off she can recognise that limping Angelo when

at night he comes home drunk from the bar, and I, how come Madam,

you can manage to recognise his footsteps when at least half the

place has similar footsteps, maybe because apart from limping

Angelo also spits, the poor sod spits all over himself, and Madam

Anera, utterly serious, not smiling in the slightest, can't you

hear, Ida, how he gently treads with just the front of his right

foot and then puts the weight onto the whole of his left sole –

ta-ak! tak! ta-ak! tak! tak! – listen to the pair of us

eavesdropping on Angelo’s taak-taking, aren't we, Ida, asks Madam

in a whisper, gosh, it's just like how you said a little earlier –

ta-ak! tak! ta-ak! tak! tak! – I said and focused my ears, and I’m

popping out my eyes like when you're watching someone who you've

seen before either in a photo or on the TV, and you just keep

gawping at him simply because he's similar to who you saw in real

life, dear God, I think, I wish that what's got to happen would

just hurry up and happen, or – better still – that they finally

remember me, where's their sixth sense... I don't know what else

to say, I can't fall into some sort of panic and end up doing

something against myself, but I know that I can't let happen that

which I can't even utter to myself, I can’t – yes, I can’t, hmm –

bugger-bollocks, life can't be repeated and is absolutely unique,

it's worth putting in a lot of effort so that it's worth something

for you, it wouldn't be fair of either God or people for me to be

buried alive here and left at the mercy and mercilessness of the

unanswered demands of my body – alive, butchered, half-butchered –

it's inevitable that my body is somewhat leaving me, exhausted

like this, I can't stand up on my feet for a whole minute without

wanting to sit back down on the floor, that's one thing; the

other, I don't dare to scream any more or call for help, it seems

as though I'd frighten the life out of myself and this ocean of

silence which is around me, because a shout seeks a shout, a shout

is afraid of silence, and for this reason I must hold on to the

remaining strength which I still have, which will still be able to

hold me floating in some sort of balance and remain in it,

otherwise, I might suffocate in darkness and hunger, I won't allow

myself to rot here and for them to find me with my mouth open and

arms spread out and for them to gather up my skeleton from here, I

won't personally organise professional satisfaction for Italian

journalists so that my name can fill the front pages of newspapers

and magazines, stop, woman, dribbling and thinking about those

sorts of things, start to work out what you need to do, but I'd

love not to be thinking about these things just prior to my

birthday, if somebody was to grant me the flame from a match for a

moment, like to the very first caveman, this would emphasise my

sadness even more, it'd force it out of all the corners and drive

me crazy until it would pass, but only for a short period of time

until the fear would once again cause new goose bumps which would

make me secretly cry and blindly force tears down my face, and

stare in the darkness towards the place where I know the mirror

is, which right now is of absolutely no use to me, because in the

darkness I can't manage to recognise myself in it, and something

causes a huge sense of pity in me, so much so that I'm slightly

embarrassed, causing even more tears to well up, join up and

trickle down the already-established basins, from which I feel

their hot swerving path, and at that point I'd want to cry all the

way through till’ Judgement Day since I see what I've done to

myself, but this once again brought me back to reality, and once

again I froze in terror, please don’t, I reproached myself, allow

Satan to have his way with you like this, calm down, compose

yourself and think about what's the best thing for you to do, if

there's anything good left in this sort of situation whatsoever,

because if you carry on like this then there'll be one more devil

stood here apart from you, because of which you'll go completely

mad out of fear, you need to understand this, wipe those tears off

your face and be with just one fool, you, so that you've got some

company which will make this misery a little easier – a fool with

a fool – that's already a little more bearable, but put together a

fool with a devil, that doesn’t sound good at all, so understand

at last that death has already entered, it's in the lift and you

can only save yourself if your head serves a purpose, because,

don't forget, it brought you here, but only it can get you out of

here, and then, Ida, you've got yourself, you've got the darkness

which is against you, you've got your body which is against you,

you've got the constraints of this closed space, and because

you're a fool you're allowed to hope that some miracle will pluck

you out of here, so why are you making it easy for the devil to

control you when you can only fight against him with God, to

whatever extent your faith and strength allow you – to heaven above, to

heaven above, where night no longer exists,

where the eternal glow shines everywhere...– Ida, don't allow yourself to

become soft and open the doors to your soul for the devil, believe

me, please, don't give up, you're already in this shit up to your

neck, so just let it all stink everywhere around you, you're not

allowed to think about it, so, for instance, when the devil first

brought me to this city, on the first night I slept in the waiting

room at the train station, how comfortable it was to go undetected

as you sleep in some corner there, on one of the long wooden

benches, and you're warm, you can feel your blood flowing inside

your body, and you experience the people around you like some sort

of great big unhappy family, but one for which it's sufficient

just being there, in the warm, and because nobody forces them

from there, because I noticed right away that all of the sleepers,

slumberers and dozer-offers weren't waiting for any train and nor

were they hoping that somebody would come for them from somewhere,

they were just homeless people and Lumpenproleteriat like myself

who didn't have their own threshold to cross and so came here

every night, ostensibly to travel somewhere, and in the early

morning hours, the squeaky ranting of the station's cleaners

harried them out into the cold, just as they forced me out that

night along with all of the other “travellers”, some of whom were

so insolent that they swore on the lives of their mothers and only

children before the carabinieri that they really had bought

tickets, which someone had probably nicked while they'd been

asleep as they waited for their train, fine, whatever, you claim

that I'm lying, doesn't matter, you're in charge and have the

right to claim whatever you want, it's your gun and your uniform

which grant you that right, and the carabinieri raise an eyebrow,

io sono non sono niente, if you show me a ticket then only then will I

know that you've bought one, everyone has to respect the law: both

you and me, and all others, otherwise... I think I've been clear

enough, I love myself more than I love you, his voice, small and

indifferent echoed in my frozen ears, when all of a sudden I

notice that the lift has been flooded with some sort of pale light

which was reaching in between the wall and the glass of the door,

but so poorly that I couldn't even make out a raised finger in the

darkness, but at the same time a fear of carbon-dioxide flushed

over me so that I was afraid of how it would surely suffocate me

soon, and from my very own breath, so that I, in order to avoid

that unpleasantness, opened the doors to make some sort of hole, a

small whole in fact, through which a bit of air could flow, or at

least so that my breath could go out that same way so that it

wouldn't fill up the lift's small space, and so that through this

I would if nothing else be freed of the worry about breathing when

I don't have anything to eat or drink

4.

So there, I'm sat here calm, numb, my body erect, my arms

folded around my knees, my eyes blinded, intently looking at the

lift's wall which I can't see, which I keep touching with my

fingertips, in order to feel its smooth surface, and then I recall

that it's not the most suitable position for thinking and killing

time, which I have in abundance, because who will force my

thoughts to calmly rest and not let out a sound of any kind, or if

not of any kind then for now at least

When the sunshine and the starlight

go out for us, go out for us,

then's the time to lift the spirit

to heaven above, to heaven above

where night no longer exists

where the eternal glow shines everywhere

and then I want to wander my folded arms, with slow, heavy

steps, diagonally across the lift's floor and to carry on singing

the sad song in my drawn out, husky, uneven voice

… that eternally sparkling star

but then, out of terror, I presume, I see on my face how I am

burying myself, digging at the soil with both hands onto myself,

it is so clear, I can see a corpse at the bottom of the pit, laid

out horizontally, but at the same time, I'm both that corpse and

the gravedigger who is shovelling soil onto the body, and I can't

wait to finally finish that job, when all of a sudden, she raises

an arm down there, all dirty from the soil, and waves it at me

resting on the shovel's handle, she gurgles something from down in

the ground, something along the lines of wait for the love of God,

why do you want to burry me alive, can't you see that my arm is

moving, that I want to tell you something, why are you doing this,

stop already, and all of this spews out of the earth in bubbles

and gurgles, and then I can again hear that same voice, but with

the syllables all somewhat detached, as it carries on singing that

song from a little earlier

Whe-n some-one bids us fare-we-ll

for the la-st ti-me

the-n tur-ns his in-ten-se gaze

to the hea-ve-n ab-ove, to the hea-ve-n ab-ove

wh-ere th-e et-er-nal glow res-ide-s

and God knows how long this would have lasted if I hadn't felt the

coldness of the wall on the crown of my head, saying that it was

all just nonsense what I had thought until a little earlier, but

fear had somehow managed to suppress it, because it's nevertheless

necessary to keep hold of the fact that I'm still alive and that I

want to stay alive, and now I feel some sort of distant pain and

thirst, but the dead, of course, don't get thirsty, nor do they

have any need for food, I use all of my strength to move my arm

and at the same moment I feel as though I'm covered in a

melancholic wave of happiness, which I find a little bit

unpleasant, because I actually catch myself wanting to conn

myself, the time had not yet come for me to go belly up, although

a little earlier I had really considered that there was a dog

stood over me, a real, live dog, watching me with its beautiful,

intelligent eyes, and I hear how it addresses me, get up so I can

get you out of here, and I, just when I think of getting up and

going after him, wave to him, in a friendly way, as you wave to a

dear creature, hoping that I'll be able to stop it, that I'll be

able to touch it and feel its thick fur beneath my palm, but when

I go to stoke it there's just an empty space and my hand falls

dead into my lap – THE DEAD FALL NEXT TO THEIR BROTHERS – at the

same moment it burrowed its head into my breast out of despair, is

it really possible that there isn't a dog there, nor its beautiful

clever eyes, nor that voice to tell me how it has come to take me

to Bosnia, and I see that I'm still trapped in the darkness, I

stretch out my legs as much as the length of the floor allows me

and search for the most appropriate position for my blood

circulation, so I get a sweet feeling from this which at least

forces the blood to flow through my veins more normally, if

nothing else then even in the opposite direction to how it would

normally go, especially in the legs, which I'd kept crossed until

now, and I imagine how it would be nice, fantastic in fact, if all

of this lift's damned panels, or even the bricks in this wall,

would all of a sudden open up and allow me to get out of here, oh

God, dying isn't such a wonderful thing, maybe if I could moisten

my throat with a drop of water, then, at the same time, she

rolled over onto her back and stretched out her legs along the

wall as though all glory lay there and thought, while I'm bent at

the neck, with my head on the floor I'll crawl along the track

through the forest towards the spring which I can't see, but I can

hear water babbling somewhere nearby, and then I wonder whether

with my crying I'd be able to wash away all of my misery, cry, I

order myself – CRY, MY BELOVED LAND – I remember the name of

Paton's novel which I'd cried over as a little girl while reading

it, I think because the writer seeks this right from the cover,

cry, I order myself once again, but this time I really quite

loudly commanded myself and then I focus absolutely everything on

conceiving how I really am, currently, probably the most pathetic

creature on this planet – THERE'S ALWAYS WORSE THAN THE WORST –

but this couldn't provide me with a God knows how good a

consolation because all that I could feel was what my miserable

position offered, the ratio of my chances could be given as – MORE

OR LESS – 1:10n, and that's that, my dear Ida, your image and

opportunity and according to it you'll need to be like a cactus in

the desert, which with its remaining spines proves to itself that

it's still amongst the living, I'm here, and just about a hundred

feet away people are walking around and having fun and they

haven't got a clue about who Ida is, that Ida is trapped in the

lift, in their street and that she hasn't even got a theoretical

chance of calling someone for help and getting out alive from this

prison in which she fell in because of 200kw, oh God, was it

really so important how much electricity the Lord and Lady would

get through just so that she'd get their smile as a prize, ha, our

Ida, there's no girl like her in the whole world, oh, merciful

God, oh, dear God, why didn't you turn me away from that idiotic

thought and decision to call them, there I was the only clever-

clogs, that they should leave the lights on outside the villa,

because of possible burglars, but what if burglars really do come,

because they're not switched on at the moment, in which case it

really could happen that which I'd wanted to warn the Lord and

Lady about, but what could really happen if I was entirely wrong,

and that it doesn't even occur to them to do over this house,

well, then there'd be a real joke at my expense, my little vixen,

I don't want to think about anything else anymore, I want to take

a shoe off, she says, and does it at the same time, and then

begins to bang with her heel with all of her strength, as though

in a trance, until she finally realises that she'd broke the glass

and, with it, also her heel, she felt a shard of glass under her

fingers which she blindly and carefully began to pick out from

their positions on the skin so as to prevent the pieces from

getting into her flesh because in this darkness her chances of

removing them would be 1 : ±, and, so that the same thing wouldn't

happen to her foot, she put her shoe back on and, as soon as she

put it down on the floor, she could feel how that leg was shorter

than the one which she had hadn't taken the shoe off of, at the

same moment she remembers she should look for a reason for this

because the heel was broken or had fallen off, and because of this

her legs are an unequal length, she concluded helplessly, having

put her foot back down on the ground, before this pushing aside

the pile of glass shards with her foot a few times, still staring

into the darkness, in the direction where she presumed that it was

to be found, what time would it be now, she asked herself and

touched at the face on her wrist watch, is it half past eleven or

six o'clock, she didn't know how to work it out, she felt at the

hands again and attempted to determine which one was shorter, is

the shorter one at the top and the longer one at the bottom or is

it the opposite because it's no small thing, she tried to force

herself to smile, half past six, or even half past five, it

depends in which direction the hands are pushed round and what you

would want: day or night, even though it is all the same now,

without being too malevolent, because there is a sea of darkness

all around me, and if it's day then a little light at least would

reach in, so: what actually is the time? – is it half past eleven

at night or half past eleven during the daytime, every dimension

of time has evaporated, my orientations are all mixed up, my sense

of awareness is gradually crumbling, I feel as though I'm losing

composure again and the ground beneath my feet, she recited,

inattentively touching at her neck, she clapped against it,

ignoring the pain which this caused, she placed her hand upon her

breast, hearing the beating of her heart from deep inside, she

placed her palm against her mouth to feel whether she was still

breathing, she feels as if she was going to fall, she starts

breathing rapidly, and she realised she was breathing rapidly,

sinking in to somewhere, while rocking at the same time, she hears

the voice of that dog with the beautiful and clever eyes, its eyes

all of a sudden emerged in the darkness and the dog said to her,

if you are planning to get out of here, one of the safest ways is

to go in the same direction as the growth of your fear, which gave

her the chills all over, she felt an icy tingling throughout and

her skin began to crawl and become crimped like with a slaughtered

hen which had just been plucked, she felt a terrible horror just

like every other creature does when it has a premonition of that

most elusive moment of closeness to death, which made her pee her

pants and at the same time wonder how she would be able to get

going with this thing which was paralysing every sing part of her

body, I can't write about it because this paper wouldn’t be able

to bear it

her relative has a brain tumour

an old woman with a bundle of wood on her back and... a boy...

some...

I gave up the journey to the town of L.

Dogs were howling pitifully in the darkness close to me, the

wind was whistling from somewhere, freezing my bones

Yes, that was yesterday or maybe even the day before yesterday

She wasn't sure whether from then

One or maybe even two days had passed, and then I shut my eyes

and everything seemed a bit easier

Pictures from the past began to link up

The beautiful summer spent with those very same people who

have maliciously left me trapped in here

She'd enjoyed every moment she'd been alive, every tiny part

of the landscape, and then she remembered the flocks of birds

which had enjoyed flying around, enjoyed life, because they're

free

The sun tickled her face through the air, so she, all scared

as she was, squeezed up into the corner of the lift, holding her

stomach and thinking at the same time about how for the first time

she had come to realise how important sometimes those hundred

metres or so are which separate her from that air she was longing

for to such an extent that she could very easily burst into tears

once again, it seemed to her as though it would be perfectly

possible for the whole Niagara Falls to come pouring out of her

eyes, what she would give now to be able to feel it on her face,

on her bear shoulders, because its June now, its summer and the

flowers are blooming, look at the darkness and it'll immediately

be clear to you, people are still walking around with smiles on

their faces, they're licking ice-creams, hopping onto crowded

buses to refresh themselves on the town's beach, cramming into

trams and cars, going by foot, laughing, getting some nosh,

grinning, it's the world, my dear, it's boiling away without you,

a bit like when you carried on boiling after father went and shot

himself thinking that she was dead and nobody bothers to ask where

that little Ida might be, not even Charles III, where is he, for

God's sake, at least to begin to ask where's my girly-bits got to?

– oh-no-no! – nobody's begun to ask, people don't give a fuck

about things which they're not and which don't belong to them,

Ida, just release from your throat at last that which you've been

afraid to say out loud, go in the direction in which your fear

grows, ala, we're finally going to die, Idushka, lets-go, forza forza,

she was wiping the sweat from her forehead using her palm, the

sweat from her temples, she tossed her hair back so that it

wouldn't get in her face and imagined the look on her face: such a

beautiful young girl and you're already leaving, happy birthday,

you maiden, God himself must have sent us a girl like her, Dio, come

ti amo – BOLLOCKS – buttocks, bullocks, goldilocks, cocks, capisco,

mia carra, mia carrissima, what an utterly faggoty language, as

Gorki once said somewhere for Polish, as if snakes were speaking

it, well in the same way I'm saying that this language is faggoty;

death is simpler than I'd realised, immeasurable strength is

needed for it

where night no longer exists

where the eternal glow shines everywhere...

who? – Ida, be clever, keep quiet and don't pointlessly waste

energy, it's enough that you're thinking, something is bound to

come, good things come to those who wait, oh so it's like that, I

said quietly, at the same time I scare myself with my own voice

because I know that it will once again wake up the bats which will

fly around and bump into me, and after them the mice will come,

huge, engorged rats which will run around my feet, and try

everything to crawl up my legs, having smelt the cakes on that

tray and then they'll start biting at the leather on my shoes, and

not just that but also my skin, I'll feel their sharp little front

teeth, and then she shrieked, not a real shriek, just a squeal

because she's in fact been startled out of her delirium and

nightmare, the tray was gone – MONEY IS GONE, FRIENDS ARE GONE –

the tray was gone and so were the mighty cakes which had been upon

it, she felt pathetic sat curled up on the floor with completely

numb limbs, as though there wasn't a drop of blood in them, she

considered how it must be the dead of night outside now, she

realised that her watch had long since stopped working, time had

been completely smeared, she'd long been trying to remember which

year Anno Domini this was, she somehow figured out that it was

eighty-two, but according to the Hijra?… she began pouting her

lips, nodding her head, whichever year it is whatever, I don’t

give a fuck even if it was the millionth, what's that got to do

with the Earth being a sphere, if it was a cube then maybe she

wouldn't be here, who knows, who knows, who knows?… someone

probably knows… nobody knows shit, I know,… I know that it's night

outside because it's summer at the moment, the days are warm but

the nights are cold, well done love; that's the same as if you say

that in winter the days are cold but the nights are warm, who

knows – WHO KNOWS, KNOWS – everybody knows, it's just me who

doesn't know anything, I know that right now I'm shivering, she

wisely establishes, clutching at parts of her body besides her

torso and wrapping herself in those few clothes which she'd

brought with her, remembering at that point that she had a packet

with a few cigarettes in one pocket and there had to also be a box

of matches which right now were more valuable and precious to her

than all of the gold and diamonds on the planet, there were

probably more matches than the number of days which remained until

those two would come back, so then, my dear – YOU'RE ALIVE, MY

GIRL – you've got the most serious intentions not to leave your

bones in this pothole, to once again set eyes upon the heavenly

sun – I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE SUN AND THE STARS, / ALL I

KNOW IS HOW MUCH PEOPLE SUFFER – pure be your faith, Ida of

Agalar, it's bloody good when hope warms a person to the extent

that their pussy starts to get all wet, everything's great while a

person hopes

when

whilst all of a sudden

in vain, the darkness won't come

silence

paints

a picture

of salvation

the hand fell dead beside me, I don't know, alone in the dark

lift, but no: How I envy the tiny insects which can pass through

the cracks with ease, I can't shout or think any longer, nor

dream, my head aches from the constant fear and helplessness,

wasn’t this the real hunger that began which I almost read about

in the newspapers: Sandy... probably Bob Sandy, something like

that – BOB SANDY HAS BEGUN A HUNGER STRIKE – an Irishman, an Irish

fisherman, darkness leads a man to madness, I'm not allowed to go

mad, let's put it like this: I'm not allowed to let myself go mad,

or even better, let's put it like this: I'm not allowed to create

the conditions which might cause my madness, she seriously warned

herself and asked herself, and what is it, you tell me… what is,

what is – madness? Like a teacher, she intently points her finger

against the wall tapping with the tips, and the wall answers,

madness is an inadequate reception of the stimuli which exist in

objective reality, fine, again concludes the subject, fine, it's

fine, it's perfectly acceptable, give me your student transcript,

thanks, you can go, says the wall, but the subject gently thanked

him, gently having leaned in, grasping with a hand for the handle,

but rather than this she felt a piece of broken glass, thanks and

goodbye, what kind of a face will I see in the mirror, this

terrible silence forces me to try to suck out the nice things –

ONLY BEAUTY CAN SAVE THIS WORLD – because I want to get out of

here – HE WHO BELIEVES IN HIMSELF WILL BE VICTORIOUS – I must get

out, I must keep my composure, endurance, patience, Tevhida,

everything's bloody against me, all that remains is for me to

become the final conspirator; all of a sudden, before me – Willy,

I offer a hand, I'm standing on the doorstep to my flat like in

some romantic Hollywood film, Garry Cooper and Grace Kelly, he's

smiling at me, Willy that is, while a golden light illuminates

him, I hug him with my very last atom of strength, as happy as can

be, I run into his embrace and… then I fiercely crash into

something… the lift door, making this girl tumble to the floor,

leaving me somewhat unconscious, but really completely absolute –

ASSOLUTAMENTE – so that I wouldn't look in the other direction and

that my eyes wouldn’t fall out of my sockets a la Gloria Swanson

where a neon light had once shone fantastically; he's still here –

Willy – what's he doing here now when his name should be Charles

III, but yea, Charles III is illuminated by this same light, it's

just that half of his body has sunk into the shadows and so she

doesn't see him, like the left side of his face, which looks to me

like a death mask and frightens me, even though I'm convinced that

the other, the right side, is surely smiling, I know that it can

be like that, I conclude, oh-ooh, I cry out, intentionally not

invoking God, just a moment, I know that the human soul is made up

of laughter and tears – THE EARTH IS THE VALLEY OF TEARS – here's

a fig, the earth is thus also a valley of laughter, but above all

else it's the valley of stupidity and ignorance – and stupidity is

an immeasurable deed out of which branches all of human history,

stupidity has won for good the status of an institution and

sacredness, thus, Charles III's lips don't move, it looks as

though he cant hear my pleading for him to get me out of here, I

don't know how to explain why in this darkness I'm making a face

so that in it I have a face like a moron, an idiot's smile (all

smiles are usually idiotic), but still, I feel wonderful,

beautiful - KRASNAJA, ZHIV BYL BABUSHKA I DEVUSHKA – so, there,

mere, bare, rare… and then I realise that today, or maybe

yesterday, it was my twenty-third birthday, Insha'Allah!

Insha'Allah! Huge timid girls, called out the peasants, now even I

don't know how many days and nights I've been here, I don't open

my eyes, the eyelids are so heavy and swollen, and not just my

eyes but also my arms and legs, everything hurts, it feels as

though I'm falling apart, how many times did I have to pick my

head up off the floor and put it back in its place in between my

shoulders, I'm worried that if I sit on it then the weight of my

body would crush it, my bottom row of teeth are chattering against

the upper row, I'm putting a finger up to my lips and chewing on

it, I think that I'm fooling somebody, I'm chewing on my tongue as

though its a… I mean: does this cause more hunger or should hunger

be left to run amok throughout my body when there's nothing you

can do, don’t oppose it, instead carry on with it in the same

direction, merge with it and embrace it, so the body gets used to

it and withstands it better, why am I chewing when I can't taste

anything other than my own saliva and the chewed-off skin from my

own finger, and so, I carry on thinking: what would it be like to

chew my finger at the joint and thus suppress my hunger, alas,

I'll even do this, I think that this would be the first case of

self-cannibalism, what a great thing for a shocking headline in

the newspaper's evening edition, even though I'll inevitably end

up there, irrespective of whatever fate befalls me here, why

shouldn't I finally take my first cigarette, she counted them and

made sure that there were five of them, should I smoke them or eat

them so that they would poison me, that'd put an end to me sooner,

Ida made fun of herself out of misery and wondered what to do with

the piece of paper, she once again called upon God, but this time

at Allah's address, uttering both letters a like resonant and

guttural h as though she was stood before the Kaaba in Mecca,

Allahu Akbar, says she, but she can feel her finger burning, she

can feel its bone, ritually she takes out a match out of the box,

flicks one and at the same moment it was as though she came out of

hell itself, she climbed out from the ninth circle onto the very

edge of the pit, she saw her image in the mirror, which resembled

everything other than the former beauty of Tevhida Agalar so that

from this she felt so much self pity, she burst into tears, the

tears poured on their own accord, cry you wretch, cry, she

encouraged herself, just cry as much as your soul needs it – CRY,

BELOVED COUNTRY – cry, may your eyes leak out from crying, this is

after all the valley of tears, she admitted pathetically as if at

a confession, oh blah blah… but she couldn’t be bothered to

pronounce more, read Dog, she continued in her Šatrovački slang,

right now I'd like to be sitting on the little bench beneath

Rizvan's mulberry tree, drinking coffee from a small Bosnian cup

and listening to the chatter of the town girls, who was, like,

getting off with who? how d'you know? I, like, just know that I

know! you think? what's there to think 'bout when I know, see,

it's like that isn't it, you can see from her, what is there to

know, cry, you wretch – BENVENUTI – I need to make a move, I need

to do something, to admire this holy light until the match burns

out, she warmed her hope on the dying flame, and then, entirely by

chance, turned her glance to that gnawed finger which only started

burning now when she saw how what a bloody, sticky mess it was,

and before the match snuffed out – THE CHILD WITH NINE

CANDLESTICKS – she saw the scattered pieces of broken glass on the

floor, she swiftly tries to raise the flame up above her head to

see where the panel is which one should open in case of the lift

stopping, she stood agog just like the first Christians in the

catacombs when they'd be reading through the clandestine signs and

letters, the trouble was that the instructions were for an

instance when there are people around you and you can call them at

any moment or warn them that you need help, but these people are

coincidentally – what a coincidence! – they're friends with cigars

between their teeth and they've gone to America, curse them and me

with them, she listed all of this world's gods and all of its

saints, you're not going to start blubbing again are, your tears

could power a generator that would bathe the whole world in bright

light, they haven't got the slightest clue that I'm here, like a

bona fide cunt, stuck in a lift holding a burned-out match which

is now frying the tip of my finger, in order, like a cunt, to keep

the light just a micro-second longer, and then she remembered her

image in the mirror once again, oh dear me, what have I seen, she

made a scornful expression with her face as though she'd caught

sight of some repulsive poisonous insect, she herself found it

hard to believe that it was really her there… really her image, in

turbulent ripples a suspicion occurred to her that rather than

herself it was actually Satan himself; us Bogomils believe in him,

why wouldn't he come to us in either dreams or reality, every now

and then faith has to prove itself, isn't that so, she implored

herself not to burst into tears once again, for the love of

Christ, despite everything, she once again broke down, in the name

of God, it's as though there's a whole Amazon of tears in me, just

how many of them are there, once again she thinks about that same

hyperbole from a little earlier, I could even make electricity out

of this shit, she says out loud, thinking that God himself will

hear her cry and give her the strength to really be able to do

that, you're not allowed to drop dead here because it doesn’t even

befit the mangiest mutt, plan your strength, you're tired and

desperate right now, that'll pass, Him up there isn't ready to

call for you yet, you need to fight not just with your arms and

legs but also with your fingers, scratch at these walls which are

only made out of smooth plastic, you're strong, the strongest –

STRONG, STRONGER, THE STRONGEST – you've got the nature of a horse

and the character of a serpent, you can endure that which even a

horse is in no condition to endure, you're not allowed to be like

your unfortunate father, you're not allowed to wither away, you

know, my dear, life is an eternal ordeal, he said, and she in fact

remembered a conversation which she'd once had with her mother

when completely by chance she had asked her, mum, I want to ask

you something but I'm not sure what, you know everything, you do

know everything don't you? – lets say, eenie meenie miny moe,

why's it bit of mummy's toe?

dear daddy i went for mary mummy said i could go i will come back soon love you

so much Idushka ive left the key under the mat i can't wait for you to come home

5.

Even after she'd left her dream, she still couldn't regain her

composure for some time, nor come out of that which had until

moments earlier had a hold of her and tormented her, so she

continued to remain seated in silence, huddled up on the floor,

not doing anything in particular, apart from eventually stretching

out her legs so that the blood could rush back into them once

again, lifting them up to the side for a moment, then upwards for

a moment, and once she'd more or less got into a position whereby

she almost felt a sense of physical pleasure, she attempted to

remember that which had bothered her in her dream, and was still

right now causing a sharp pain in her chest, but she muttered to

herself, wasn't she herself maybe hurrying along the street like a

dog on heat and she didn’t used to find anything, and she

resembled that Spaniard who doesn't have anything to eat but comes

home at lunchtime and sits at an empty table upon which there

isn't any bread or wine, he waits for the others to finish their

lunch, the square is deserted and sleepy under the relentless sun,

from all the windows the one crossing the square first after lunch

will be seen, but at a convenient moment the man gets up, puts a

toothpick between his teeth and crosses the square picking at them

because – Christ almighty! – everybody needs to believe that he

had eaten since otherwise he'll never manage to bite; well this is

death, she thinks, complete and utter, one hundred per cent

concentrated death which is not thought about, nor sung about but

rather is feared in cataclysmic proportions when you're stunned by

the power of its presence, so that she feels, merely, a waterfall

of her own saliva, damn a thousand Satans, she says, but her voice

was no longer as fearsome as she'd expected it to be or as she'd

wanted to hear it, rather it was so puny that it made her anxious

heart beat even more strongly, the masses are, she considered,

essentially cannibalistic, and out of this conclusion she was shot

by the realisation that you need to keep away from people who

often smile because in doing so they are revealing their teeth

which are the weapons of hunger, the same as with those who stand,

secretly instilling fear into those who sit, she interpreted this

as yet another omen within the terrible impression that precisely

today the day had come when something fateful would have to

happen, you can hear it from here, even though in this darkness

you can see with your own eyes how something was scratching from

down below, because of which she didn't dare exhale, fearing that

she might reveal herself to the intruder, so she had to lower her

hands gently so as to push against them and lower her legs as

quietly as possible, for God's sake, if she can manage that, it

flashes through her dreamy head, first she'll have to put out her

hands to slide her body up the wall, but for this it's necessary

to have strong support in your legs so as to be able to somehow

get up onto your legs, then it'll probably already be easier with

the unknown scratcher – what the bloody hell could it be? – a

little earlier, maybe, she might have moved and it had been this

which had made the noise, I doubt it, she thought, or perhaps it

was from a shirt, hand or foot scraping across the floor, she

wondered, but she couldn't work out what was going on, and then,

all of a sudden, something entirely possible came to mind, that

the intruder had in fact come to visit her through some sort of a

hole or a gap, meaning that it's entirely possible that there's

some new creature here in the lift with me, which will henceforth

abide with her in the darkness, breathe, watch her with its eyes,

just as she tries to see it too, just as lonely as her, just as

afraid, petrified out of fear, and because of that it was now

probably keeping quiet and staring into the darkness out of which

a danger for its little life could come, because however much she

strained her ears, stalked by a terrible feeling that she was no

longer the only living creature there, in all of these five

minutes of horrendous waiting she hadn't been able to catch the

sound of anything, nor even hear anything still scratching, nor

catch a single suspicious noise, it didn't even cross her mind to

stamp her feet on the floor of the lift and by doing so frighten

off and chase away the unknown guest, and to force it into

whichever hole there was, because from where else would this

creature have been able to come from, by now she was so overcome

by curiosity that for at least a moment she forgot the danger

which she'd been thinking about moments earlier, that this unknown

thing could prick her skin with its stinger and that she'd get a

blister full of poison, which would well and truly put an end to

her today, and then the remaining like-minded creatures from the

same biological class will come and eat away at her body so that

all that would be left of her is a gnawed-upon skeleton which will

descend to the ground-floor when Sir and Madam call the lift

having returned from America, it came out of her mouth, but she

was ready from before for it not to betray her, but thus on the

other hand she was betrayed by something entirely unforeseeable,

she could feel at that very moment how her pants became wet from

fear, and at the same time a feeling of pleasantness indefinitely

spilled all over her body, she grabs her groin with her hand, then

pressed her fist into her muff as though it was at the very least

the start of a spontaneous miscarriage rather than the most common

act of pissing or an orgasm due to nerves, whatever it was, fuck

them and my body and me and those fucking idiots who sensed that

this could be my end at any moment, well you won't, she thought,

nodding her head just as one usually does when annoyed, but she

didn't have the strength for this, well you won't, you parasite

bastards, you can do it to whoever you want, but not me, you won't

be seeing that show, I swear, you won't see it, feel free to

return your tickets back to the till but you won't be seeing this

striptease, I'll postpone death if needs be, you fucks – MAMMA MIA

– if only that thing was between my legs I wouldn’t say a thing,

whatever you do Ida don't turn the tap on now, there'd be a flood

up to your knees, to your throat, do you really want to be Noah in

your wooden boat ark after Judgement Day, with squinting eyes she

assured herself, seeping some rustling noises between her lips and

doing God knows what else, o-o, o-o-o, she therein began to ooo,

may I be flushed away if that happens, if I just had a tiny bit of

fresh air, it seems to me as though I'd fly away out of happiness,

so, old girl, breathe calmly through your nose, she ordered

herself, breathe through your gills if necessary, breathe through

your pores if must do – NOTHING IS DIFFICULT WHICH MUST BE DONE –

if you're planning whatsoever to stay alive then surely you won't

permit yourself to breathe in the stench of your own piss, as

though a cow has just pissed beneath you, oh God, she inhaled the

air as much as she could holding firmly shut the valves on both of

her taps – both front and back – surely the gaskets won't blow

under the pressure of my own piss and shit, pathetic old me, what

can I do with it? I can't go backwards with it but I can't go

forwards with it either, so, therefore, that's how I looked in

that dream if I didn't just invent the whole thing and imagine

that I in fact dreamed it, because I can't say for sure with any

certainty whether that was really my recollection or whether I

just heard it in passing somewhere, out of fear, sucked out from

her little finger, my God, my plea to God for him to spare me has

gone unanswered, because soon, indeed, I, just as every living

creature has to, felt the need to defecate and quite possibly it

would be accompanied by urination - ONE BAD DEED IS ALWAYS

ACCOMPANIED BY ANOTHER – if I don't do that then it'll come out

through my mouth, did I really have to go just now, she growled at

herself, still shattered by some strange slumber, when at the same

time she thought how it would now be nice to nap for a little

longer and screw over that shit and force it into a different

corner to be stored there, but there was absolutely no chance of

this because they'd decided to come out right now and they'd come

out even if she put twelve padlocks on her arse and closed a zip

on her sphincter itself, something from the bowels gets a

dignified answer in the form of a bowel movement, which she took

as a call for it to be high time to move on from words to actions,

to do something serious – IN ORDER TO REMOVE THE CAUSE OF NATURAL

DISASTERS – to put something in her gob before something bad

happens, she in fact remembered her matches, how many of them were

left, she asked herself, if by any chance I were that child with

nine candlesticks then I could light them so that nine girls or

even nine boys would dance until midnight, and that after midnight

each one of them would pull out a pouch of gold coins from their

belt for me, but, as soon as she thought this, she bit her tongue,

oh, hard cheese, what would I do with all of that treasure here,

just to want the most common of things like some unfortunate Midas

– to get drunk and stuff myself – she admitted to herself in

complete resignation, in this lift, one moment you're there, the

next moment you're not, one moment you're there, the next moment

you aren't, it pays to be mindlessly persistent here so that out

of somewhere – from the stratosphere, from the bottom of the

Pacific Ocean, from your mother's cunt, you summon hope and

patience, which even an ass would be left without, that someone

will nevertheless pick you up from here alive, are there more

disgusting situations than this one which I'm in, when you're in

prison – meaning that you've stolen, killed, so your heart can be

in place – you deserved it and so pine away there, you can act the

hero, you get buried alive in a mine – you were working and doing

an honourable task, so here you can also act the hero, you died on

the road, well you probably acted heroically there as well, heroes

are everywhere, apart from those people who are stuck in lifts,

there's no scabies or rabies or any other malady worse that this

shit which I've got myself into here, she said uttering her final

words out loud, but she could no longer hold inside of herself

that which with all of its strength was trying to get out of her,

and so in a jiffy she stripped off her pants, positioned her

backside between two edges, feeling the cold plastic against her

skin, trying to do her business in the very corner, she squatted,

closed her eyes as though to seek a pardon from the Merciful and

the Compassionate, mumbling a prayer to herself when such an

opportunity came up for it, in which she sought pardon for that

which she was in fact doing, she could feel how her anus was

becoming ever wider, making a passage for V-1 and V-2: at the

entrance HRH appeared, looking moody, probably because they

weren't letting him out when he'd already submitted a request for

this, since when had this become so important for them to hold him

up at the border for so long, he tumbled down with all the

accompaniments, good day to you, Ida – GOOD DAY TO YOU, SORROW!

BON GIORNO, TRISTEZA! – she heard its salutation, leaving at the

same time a huge sense of relief upon his departure – WHAT IS IT,

WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME WHEN IT'S EASIER FOR YOU NOW? – besides,

she could feel a burning sensation around the place where HRH's

horsemen swept along on their fast steeds, it was now entirely

clear that she would have to count upon living alongside her own

faeces, and also alongside her own urine, which was still spouting

between her straddled legs, a gush as thick as a hand, so that she

now looked like the Golden Gate, it was a good thing that her

panties had been yanked down to her knees, otherwise with her legs

she'd have stepped over to Japan just so as not to get them wet

from the ocean out of which she could without any problems make an

ammoniac soup, but God knows how, by chance, she remembered an

episode from her life when she'd been a young girl of about ten or

eleven years of age, when her mum and dad had divorced, having

been unable to see or hear one another, after which the court

awarded her to her mother's care, albeit with her father having to

pay a monthly alimony, which was so small that the unfortunate

woman was forced to write a complaint against her former husband

to the court every so often and, via a lawyer, seek from the

honourable and esteemed court an increase in the benefits for the child

due to this or that, such as inflation, or she found on his bank

statement that he had some additional income, meaning that his,

shall we say, alimony was purely symbolic, it was no longer

economic, less still pedagogic, it wasn't even aid but rather pure

one hundred per cent concentrated piss-taking, it was no longer

symbolic but rather complete and utter mockery etc., and, practically,

with my humble income which I have to raise my and his daughter, Tevhida Agalar...

thus from day to day she wrote a comprehensive accusation against

her former husband, whilst, during this time, little Ida grew,

like a flower, ever more beautiful, her unbridled beauty catching

many a male eye, but she didn't care for even one of them, nor

give them a second thought, nor give an encouraging look or a

word, for which many reproached her for being conceited and that

sooner or later some bloke will come by who will know how to get

her and prove that even a healer can be fooled, because – dear God

– we used to be like that as well, women would say in amazement,

even though not one of them had looks which could stand up against

Ida's, but to be like her, conceited as though she was Soltaniyeh

and made of glass – God forbid, never! just the job, but the hen

will sit on the egg and Tima the fortune-teller saw in the cards

and beans that this miracle will be in seven days, seven month or

seven years time, and if it doesn't happen then the people should

spit in her mouth, she’ll open it for everyone, and in the dregs

of the coffee she discovered that Ida will get married so

unhappily that she couldn't be any less happy, and that would be

to some pygmy with a great big hump over his right shoulder, but

why with a hump? why doesn't she marry out of pride and joy, the

women asked themselves, crossing their fingers beneath the table

that it would really be like this, but Tima calmly answered them

that such a fate awaits any beauty who has a mole beneath her left

breast, this is God's mark upon the heart and, also, a curse;

through this, God charges for every act of arrogance which must be

possessed by every person who He above has marked the heart of,

believe me, you'll see, my dear friends, Tima convinced them, and

her words didn't come from this world but the other, if it is not

as the beans say, Tima will stop in the middle of the Junction,

she said and opened up her toothless gob within which there

remained just a single, broken and entirely black tooth with which

she held on to a cigarette, live to see – LONG LIVE THE OLD WOMAN

AND THE YOUNG GIRL – and women being women, turning their heads as

if they're not their own, who’ll deal with Tima? dare to oppose

her, say something to her, she'd fly right into your mouth; thus

all units approved such dark premonitions in which each of them

saw Tevhid's demise in their own way, so, the village began to

chatter away about this so much that even those who Ida would have

just looked upon as small fry pulled out the last lover's joker,

you, you peahen, will be with a pygmy, with a sort of saddle, he

was showing the frightened girl with his palms the hump in the

shape of a ball on his back, you will, you will, damn it, that’s

your destiny and that’s the way it’s going to be, it won't even be

yours forever, upon the Bible, and eventually these stories and

the teasing reached Ida's father, so one day Abaz Agalar arrived

in front of his ex-wife’s flat, having priorly received her

approval to spend the weekend with Tevhida who, given that she

could never forget the unpleasantness surrounding the alimony, had

been left in front of the building in which they lived, but

observing him stealthily from behind the curtains and having

confirmed to herself that he was still as equally handsome and

beautiful as he had been when she'd fallen head over heels for him

as a schoolgirl, well, she now covertly observed that ex of hers

who was still presentable and her equally presentable daughter who

– hand on heart – was the spitting image of her father, she saw

how the pair of them embraced honestly, her around his neck as she

perched on her tiptoes, and he around her waist, the pair having

exchanged kisses to the cheeks, she hears Ida's giggle (with her

Ida would only grin), she watches how they got into a white Austin

and left, becoming lost in the stream of cars which were rushing

on Saturdays and Sundays towards the seaside, she was overcome by

such melancholy that at that moment she felt how her throat

tightened, there were no more tears, whatever was left burned her

eyes or in her tear-ducts, she felt how a thousand needles were

piercing her eyes, once again she saw her father-in-law beside the

road with his face plunged into a puddle of his own blood from a

bullet which he himself had fired in fear after having a road

accident after a couple of hundred miles, and having got out of

the smashed up car and seeing that his daughter lay motionless in

the passenger's seat, he thought that the girl was dead and so

came back to the car, took out a handgun from the glove-

compartment which he'd brought along to deal with his wife in the

case that she wouldn't give him his daughter for the weekend, and

in the heat of the moment, having held the barrel up to his

temple, he pulled the trigger and fell face-first onto the tarmac,

which a moment or so later began to fill with his blood.

6.

In silence she listened to the scratching, which had by now

become somewhat more frequent and more pronounced, she could feel

how she was once again being overcome by an unspeakable shivering

and loneliness, which was giving her goosebumps, particularly on

her skull, and so, right now, she began to feel in complete awe,

she continued carefully to listen to the mysterious sounds coming

from down below, and then she realised that she'd have to take

some action, otherwise she'd soon suffocate from the stench of

rot, which couldn't in any way dissipate from here but instead

gathered and poured in through her pores, slowly but surely

poisoning her in this way, and where did this come from? from her

very own faeces which she hadn't been able to hold inside herself,

which she'd had to get out, oh, to hell with it, I've got to light

a match, so that I can think up some way of getting light, I'll

just have to get my already mole-like eyes accustomed to it, but

the flame might go out by then, and then she gets the box of

matches out of her pocket, shakes them, she could hear that there

weren't many of them left, she was troubled by a terrible feeling

of the solemn moment when she would again see her face in the

mirror, and likewise the silence after those mysterious scratching

noises from unknown intruders finally ceased, meaning that in that

sepulchral silence she could hear and feel her heart beating, she

placed her fingers upon her heart where she could feel it beneath

her breast, it's probably worth knowing, she told herself in a

snappy voice, that you're not allowed to make a single mistake,

this small amount of common sense which you still have left should

be used intelligently so that this beautiful body wouldn’t rot

away, the unfortunate girl encouraged herself, but that box of

matches began to cause her angst, she opened up her fist and

touched the box with a finger as though it was the one remaining

relic, and therein she took out one of the matches, passed the tip

of her finger over its plump phosphorus head, she turned it over

so that the head was touching the striking board, beneath her

finger she feels that it is sufficiently dry to be able to strike

against, in God’s name, I can't let the phosphorus fall off the

head, I need to be a hundred per cent careful, she says, and at

the same moment she drags the match along the length of the box,

the little flame begins to hiss and then the first fire which

Prometheus stole from the gods and gave to mankind lights up, and

she, all radiant from some sort of mixed-up excitement, paused not

knowing whether just to admire or make use of the small amount of

time which the match's flame would last for, there was no time to

waste, she had to act quickly, the first thing to do was to look

in the direction of the mirror, for God's sake, she cried, from

there in the gloominess she observed an elder woman with bulging

eyes and large rings around them, but there was no time to waste

since the flame had eaten up half the match already, there was

only a quarter of its overall length left, taking into account

that a quarter of it was taken up by the two fingers which were

holding on to it at the very end, and she could not count on that

unless she was willing to get herself a great big blister on her

fingertips, which wouldn't be particularly pleasant to treat in

the darkness with just her breath, and besides that she wouldn’t

be able to light the next match with those same blisters and to

maintain that flame for as long as possible, she had just long

enough to take a glance down at the lift's floor, where she caught

sight of her faeces which had also somewhat dirtied the wall, at

the same moment she screwed up her lips out of disgust, and thus,

as such, instinctively clasped her nose, and with her other hand

moved towards her eyes, having felt as though she could soon burst

into tears out of the most sincere and enormous self-pity, but

just as the dying flame licked at her fingers, she instinctively

threw away the match and in that moment, while it was still flying

towards the floor with a tiny flicker of the remaining spark, she

once again saw that which a little earlier had induced her to sigh

so painfully, hey, my dear girl, how did you wrong God so much

that he's still rubbing salt into your wound, she once again

listened to the sound of her breath, having convinced herself once

again that she was still alive and that nothing was lost yet, so

it was definitely worth her fighting on, and nothing comes from

despair, calm down, she encouraged herself, calm down, don't let

some unexpected devil take you by surprise, then you’re really up

the creek without a paddle, she carried on convincing herself as

though she were faced with some grubby child, calm down if you're

planning on doing something clever, you need to blindly believe in

yourself, right now you've got to have a heart of stone so that it

won't fly out of your chest and get smashed into a billion little

pieces, I know now is the time of hunger, I need to fight equally

vigorously against that as well as against this darkness and the

silence, and also against this stench, and in order to be able to

wrestle against it, I need to invest my remaining strength in

mentally and physically protecting myself and not destroying my

nerves and so I must, I must, I must, she began to recite

neurotically, I must, I must, but a certain dose of caution turned

her away from this dangerous flow of thought, and she then headed

off in an entirely different direction so that at the same moment

she began to mock herself, the corners of her lips bent and so she

couldn't quite comprehend what sort of expression she had on her

face: was she flirting with it or will it turn into a tearful

grimace at any moment, her thoughts continued: I will have to

remember the changes on the calendar and the daily alterations, to

divide the day into specific periods in which I will have to

concentrate on completely specific topics, I'll play out scenes

which I've seen, novels and travelogues which I've read, and I'll

recite their contents in a quite voice, I'll remember

conversations with my friends, I'll recite lyrics, excerpts from

heroic poems which I learned off by heart in school, like the

lines from Hasanagica, Omer and Merima, Pedrag and Nenad, you know – A

MOTHER FEEDS TWO INFANT SONS, / IN THOSE TERRIBLE DAYS AND STARVED

YEARS, / BESIDE HER LOOMS HER RIGHT HAND… – I'll sing songs which

are all the sadder, the saddest which I can remember, those

Slavonian round dances and Slovene limericks always got on my

nerves, there was never any heart or soul in them, there wasn't

any understanding for the suffering of others, everything was

subordinate to genitalia and petty-bourgeois complacency, a happy

person is, by his very nature, usually ambivalent to whatever's

going on around him, he's sufficient unto himself and doesn't need

anybody else, just as youth is sufficient unto itself, and

likewise happiness is sufficient unto itself, and because of this

happiness and youth were always strangers to me, they haven't got

any understanding, nor love nor tenderness, for them the whole

world is just the most common design and decoration; I therefore

have to sing songs – sevdalinkas – if I need to speak to myself,

she mumbled to herself, but at that moment, in a blurry outline, a

vision appeared before her: she saw herself beneath a huge rock,

whilst in front of her stood a young, grinning investigator who

firstly outlined what she'd been accused of, having pointed out to

her, ostensibly in passing, how it would she'd be best to just

admit everything since the court would take her confession as a

mitigating circumstance when handing down its sentence, the

grinning guy said, and entered her name into the file which lay

there in front of him, then he asked her, do you admit that you

did evil things and that your forbidden sect directed you in this,

to which she answered entirely calmly that she admitted this, but

the investigator did not stop at this, and told her that he was

pleased that she had admitted this immediately, not forgetting to

add that he believes that she is an intelligent girl and that he

knows how this can help her and that he knows what this will mean

in the subsequent investigative procedure, if you tell me

everything, he continued, your punishment won't be so severe, so,

tell me, who talked you into this, and immediately she blurted

out, Satan! Satan! Sa-tan! And where did you meet Satan, asked the

investigator as calmly as he could, even though his lips and

nostrils were visibly twitching, at Bilino polje, thunders the

girl, but you don't live in Bilino polje, did you go there to meet

him, I did, says the girl, and did you enter his house, no, says

the girl, well where did you meet, beneath a huge rock, says the

girl, well how did you recognise him, he waved to me and grinned,

said the girl, apart from that he's the same as us, and moreover,

it seems, kinder than us, and who told you that he'd wait for you

under that rock, nobody told me, says the girl, intuition led me

there, I was certain that I'd meet him there, and how did you

recognise him, I knew that he'd be stood there but I also

recognised him because he was rustling papers, said the girl, so,

Satan was there, yes, he was, answered the girl.

7.

Just at the time when hunger was severely tormenting her and

she was having a torturous dialogue with herself in her dreams, it

happened that she went through a lonely park with a large garden

made up of the overgrown tunnels of thick boxwood trees and that

she heard an unfamiliar voice behind her, that voice, which she

somehow recognised from somewhere, called out her name, but as

soon as she turned around she saw a young man hurrying to meet

her, and seeing him evoked in her something which she'd once

written in her secret notes, which she kept from time to time

exclusively for her own personal reasons:

Antonio Sforza, as he once told me, spent years studying Latin sources concerning

the Cathars, the Italian Patarines and heretics, and went so far into this that through

accentuated and metric chanting he'd attempted to get as close to possible to all potential

characteristics of the expressions of that language, particularly with regards to how it was

offered by the secret life of Bosnian Christians, and he would – as he himself admitted to

me – catch himself, as he was studying the rhythmic properties of that language,

attempting to form severe criticism against the heretics through this; to bridge that

distance in time which was much too big for him to be able to judge, with any certainty,

upon the motives which had made the Vatican chroniclers write them or to figure out

whether, within them, the ideological bias had the purpose of pleasing the pleasant and

flattering side or if it was actually the sordidness or the intricacy that pleased a greed for

fame and false confidence, therefore he used to observe historical problems by chopping

up those texts linguistically, attempting to see that which was hidden within them from a

close proximity; so to speak, the syntactical lustre of a particular language carried within

itself the seed of its disintegration. That's just as absurd as if a Bogomil were to be found

on a list of future Cardinals. A person who is pleasant to listen to but a person who in

absolutely no circumstance should be listened to. Simply put, a person whose words cause

unbearable pain.

Antonio Sforza is worthy of respect. He didn't know, even though he often accused

me. He does good where it is possible. Not to mention his education. He possesses an

attractive power and superiority over many. A good appearance, a decent height, a

beautiful exterior, a little surplus of charm, but clearly without the gift of leadership.

Aware of his personality, primarily in his relations towards those lower than himself, and

only then gradually towards those higher than himself. But you've got to give him credit

for one thing: he knows how to keep quiet, even in a friendship, and I knew this better

than he would have expected of me. He wouldn't allow surprise to fill him with joy so that

it wouldn't be noticed that this really was a surprise for him, rather just something

normal.

While she was surrendering to the free flow of these internal

images which resembled dreams, out of this stream, first and

foremost, two images emerged and remained there for a longer time:

in one of them she saw herself as a child playing in the hallway,

and in the other it was you who appeared, Charles III, joy and

hope resurrected in me when I set eyes upon you, you were walking

down the street, I recognised you from behind by the way in which

you were walking and called out your name straight away – CH-AR-

LES THE THI-RD – even though till that point I’d never seen you or

met you, I said to myself, finally a person – ECCE HOMO – finally,

a friend, at last a person with the ability to understand, you had

to have seen how pleased I was and how much I expected of you, I

was so happy to see such a face there before me, a face which

seemed to me similar to somebody who I'd seen somewhere in my

childhood and which still reverberates painfully in my memory,

but, my beloved Charlie, what an evening that was, full of

inversions, tiresome and useless, an evening which destroyed my

illusions by having inexorably explained to me that I'm a stranger

not only to you but also to myself, disappointed and impatient,

without thought or caution that in this sort of world it's

necessary to disguise oneself because everything is fake and

fragile, and behind the smile there lurks apathy and a heart of

stone, there's no passion other than hatred, everything is

exaggerated apart from love, and love is, above all, a stammer of

the body whilst the soul is bothered and bored by torturing

itself, reprehending, complaining, lying, impeccably disguised,

and it'd already been deceived, condescending with forced

politeness, hungry for ever and ever, abandoned and distressed,

nothing comes of all those words other than boredom and suffering,

useless offence and accusations; why do we need our whole lives to

understand that and admit it to ourselves, I'm ashamed, it was

shame, shame always bound me to the pair of us, the way we're able

without scruples to use the coincidence that we're both alive, the

chance of being together by chance, I began to seriously hold that

irony as the start of my schism with this world as it is, the only

way out which I could see was to make a mockery out of that and

clearly visualise myself in some mirror of mine, because when a

person is finished with people, all that remains is silence and

laughter, when all the illusions have disappeared he then realises

that he no longer belongs to anybody as he had once believed, and

then he becomes an outcast and an enemy to everyone, said Ida, and

then she continued her contemplation with sadness, that's what us

Bogomils are like, the memory of them amongst my people is

shamefully buried and causes embarrassment in honourable

individuals for assimilating into others, having left them the

historical mark of betrayal, so that neither history nor legend

allows them to let the soul of the Bogomil die in them, oh, she

sighed, it's only that deep and painful cut which they can't laugh

at, so how can you live your life and not offend your pride, how

can you offer someone a hand when that hand is empty and you've

nothing to offer – neither advice, nor friendship, nor

consolation, because we don't recognise one another's faces – this

is a scholastically tailored world in which people cowardly live

miserable lives and do everything against which the Bogomils

fought against, and when, feeling thoroughly sleepy, she concluded

that final thought of hers, she felt in the dark how altered and

radiant her face was, and at the same time she was overcome by a

kind of sinister and unsavoury excitement.

8.

For as long as she could remember, she had lived for years in

an apathetic gloom, she could even recall the smallest detail if

some sadness would remind her of it, and so sometimes she would

sit for hours beneath a tree, motionless and rigid, bringing life

to the imagined images in sections which now seemed to her as

though they were no longer part of her, rather that she'd heard

the story from someone else and was now just attributing it to

herself, she didn't pay attention to the balance in her soul,

which was quite disordered, so much so that those new

circumstances brought her to an extremely difficult, sensitive and

exposed position, and so she, attempting to find some fresh air by

using a paper tissue, recalled her virgin body upon the bedding,

which had a little earlier been ruined by one of her peers, whose

name, right now, she was in no fit state to remember, whether he

had freckles on his face or not, she'd already returned for the

millionth time to that same scene where their confused looks are

carved into that sharp cut in her memory after both of them, at

the same moment, looked down at that fresh, blood stain on the

white sheet, and she, so as to conceal it, in a jiffy, plonked her

bare sweaty buttocks down upon it, she felt the sticky liquid

between her bum's hemispheres beneath her and asked herself

whether this was really it? where's the beauty and charm? and the

youngster was also fatally confused and speechless, with that

moronic look upon his face, now – oh God! – she didn't know

whether it was freckled or not, the lad tried to embrace her,

albeit clumsily around the neck, and he tried to console her with

words, there's nothing to be afraid of, love, I'm telling you,

that'll pass, she listened, but the pain swelled and spilled into

her bowels, and that blended stench of cum and blood spread out

through the August sunshine as proof that it had really been done

and that a time which is called maidenhood had been waved goodbye

to forever, we ladies are entering a new world, a world in which

there are no more secrets for us, I felt HRH between my outspread

legs, the gates of heaven would be forever ajar, and I'm a real

woman now for whom no more secrets remained, which was a privilege

for the elder, it's only now that I understand those latent,

muffled whispers, sighs and moans exchanged between mother and

father which I'd listened in to whilst hiding behind the door, and

I cried stifled tears as much as I could before my cries would

give me away because I'd definitely get a beating for that,

because why would I be the witness to my father strangling,

choking, beating and doing whatever else to my mother? the next

day I stealthily observed my mother as a martyr and a victim of my

father and was even more amazed by her entirely normal behaviour;

moreover, she didn't let me say a single bad word about my father,

because he, for God's sake, was my father, my only father, nobody

else could be my father other than him (an ingenious idea!),

that's that and it can't be any other way (an even more ingenious

idea!), and if he's a little uptight and yells at either you or

me, dear God, that's something entirely normal Ida, other people

are far worse off, my mum said to me with her back turned to me as

she dealt with the dirty washing up from the night before, and the

whole time I stared at her meaty hands and rolls of skin above her

elbows, but I thought to myself, he doesn't just shout at you, he

also strangles, chokes and beats you and wants to kill you, and

you still don't want to admit this, thinking that I'm still too

young and that because of that I'd hate my father, that I wouldn't

be able to understand how he tortures you, last night he wanted to

strangle you, I heard it with my own ears, I heard it last night

while I was hidden behind the door, you don't realise that I was

hidden behind the door last night and that I head everything from

A to Z, you don't know it and you'll never know it, when you're

like that and don't want to confide in me as a mother can in her

daughter, you haven't got a shred of confidence in me, so why

would I say where I was hidden last night, so there, Ida recalled

these sorts of scenes from her life, and once again she returned

to that same scene from earlier when her buttocks hovered over the

fresh bloody stain so as to hide it from the sweaty and confused

boy's view, hell, did I mix those freckles up with moles, and then

at the very last moment I covered the stain with the corner of the

sheet, everything will be alright, the boy was saying, I'm telling

you, he panted in a broken falsetto somewhere above my ears and

the only thing I was aware of was that he could be anything to me

but dear and close, at that point I longed to be on my own, but I

also wanted him to be with me, God bloody knows what I wanted

then, for him not to leave me then when I most needed him there

beside me, oh God, I though, trembling like a poplar, if only I

had someone to comfort and calm me now, my father – lets say –

it’s nothing, my child, it’s nothing, well one fine day, who knows

whether it was in August or not, your mother also lost her

virginity to some brat or superstar, either on a writing table, a

bag of potatoes or up against a wall, a quickie – she never wanted

to tell me who it was with – but so what? it wasn't the end of the

world then just as isn't the end of the world now, so there,

that's the famous battle of the generations, when old people

blabber rubbish to young people about how what they're doing is a

straight path to the end of the world, just as they who are

currently being mistreated will convince those who are just now

being born that they're bringing about the end of the world, as

though they'd brought us into this world through immaculate

conception; I was fifteen years old, as I said, it was August, I

think, the start of August, and I pulled the corner of the sheet

over me, pantiless and dicked, and my darling, who knows how many

times, checks whether the doors have been boarded up, just in

case, he flicks the switch to turn the light off; lovers love

darkness, I remember that I'd in fact given some thought to this,

just in case somebody uninvited barged in, I still didn't allow

him to turn the light on because, it seemed to me, that this would

frighten us even more, like when tiny insects get frightened when

you turn a stone over into the light of day; lovers love darkness,

I remember that I'd in fact given some thought to this.

9.

I think that today's the tenth day I've been here, but I still

don't think that time here should be divided up in the way that it

usually gets divided, in order to divide my suffering into little

pieces so it would be easier to endure, easier to bear, because,

eventually, you can only imagine what it would be like if I were

to be faced with immeasurable time, hours, minutes, labelled by

one number after which follows a sting of zeros into infinity, and

each of these little parts needs to be lived through, in

starvation, ladies and gentlemen, a month without food in a lift –

OH, IS IT REALLY POSSIBLE? YES, WE ARE THE PROLETARIANS! – she

began to recall a distant school recital at which from the tenth

row she'd had to call out the chorus from one of Ćopić's poems,

yet this contribution simply didn't fit into the lyrics' rhythm,

is that really possible? she said – YES, WE ARE THE

PROLETARIANS!... MOTHER, GIVE ME A NEEDLE AND SOME RED THREAD SO

THAT I CAN SOW TOGETHER A PARTISAN CAP FOR THIS WOUNDED SOLDIER –

yes, my little Ida-beaver, you grew apart from your matrix, you

alienated yourself, you've betrayed your primordial soul

forevermore and dug a chasm between yourself and reality, between

principle and circumstance, you don't even understand yourself,

you don't know what you want nor what you wish for, your an enemy

and a stranger unto yourself, your misfortune isn't based in you

having duped others but rather because you've lied to yourself,

you've dallied with your own heart, you appreciated it like a

guaranteed friend, learning from the rules which would keep you on

the surface of the water, but you wanted to dive under, to dive

deep and dive to the very bottom, oh, God, who can I address if

not you, you're my only hope, you're the only merciful one even

though I am unworthy of Thy name, at least I'll tell you that what

I felt from you in myself, thus, I – Tevhida Agalar – believing in

your patience, am addressing you with a request that you try to

listen to me if I am at all worthy of your grace, but since there

is room in your heart for everything, even for those who didn't

believe in You, which was the case with me, I hope that my words

will be more poetic than a true dialogue between You and me,

because poetry has always been obliquity for miscreants, it

plunges the mind into a vast inescapable abysses, but You want to

save the sinful man who continuously doubts that which a normal

spirit would not dare to doubt, because of that You are merciless

towards poets and liars because they do not have a measure, they

are in league with the devil, who tries to bring chaos to the

harmony which You gravitate towards and which for thousands of

years, ever since man started to think, he has futilely sought

admission into You, he persistently seeks the right to legal

citizenship in the human philosophical structure of this ever

strange and mysterious world of ours, I'm healthy and probably

aware of what I'm saying to You here, the Bogomils also knew about

what I've told You, and because of this they probably had to pay a

heavy price before those ostensible defenders of Your name, but I

fear when by chance You would judge whether to open your gates to

that which man inherently carries within himself and which those

ostensible defenders of Your name refer to as Satan, I'm sure that

You would admit its legality, knowing who is in fact that creature

which You one day (as long as it isn't a day in August)

forevermore expelled from the place where he otherwise belonged,

for which he very boldly and mysteriously accused the one which

originates from his rib, wanting all the same to justify that from

which at least this civilisation will never free itself and which,

I believe, will eventually destroy it, aside with what Faulkner

and society say, after the sort of history which this literate man

had, all that remains for him as an honourable choice are shame

and silence, endless silence and huge shame, and a tear, if he is

in any state to squeeze it out of his eye after all that his

ancestors did, and by gosh he himself too, and that which he still

does, God, how can I call upon You and know that I'm not just

speaking in vain, you shoved into us, fragile and fearful,

trembling and alone, a little gift for us to breathe in this

miraculous air, for us to live on this planet like convicts

sentenced to death in solitary confinement, where there the only

light that shines is from a single bulb, whenever we're unhappy,

all of our thoughts turn to You, because of fear we feel that we

need to hope, so we mutely beseech and pray for You to forgive us

and show mercy upon us, but already in our very next move we're

unable to tell whether or not we've betrayed You, because maybe

we're just Your illusion just as parents reassure themselves with

lies about their children, towards which they are sometimes blind,

sometimes rough, sometimes gentle, sometimes cruel - LETS SPEAK

LIKE GROWN UPS, LIKE TWO HONEST FRIENDS, MAN TO MAN, WOMAN TO

WOMAN – and most often a tyrant, just as the child is to them,

because they don't know that those are two bodies, and a body is

usually in disagreement with its soul, offer me your hand, my God,

what is that pointless hope that you can get up off the floor and

disturbed by his silence you can listen in to the barking of dogs

from somewhere, snoring from the neighbouring room or even the

pattering of rain against the window pane, it's so sad in this

world, and yet something still stops you from killing yourself, my

tongue's getting tangled and I want to tell you this through

closed eyes, even though darkness has ruled this place for a long

time now, why is my heart excitedly beating because of this, isn't

that a sign that I still love this life – I CAN FEEL THAT I LOVE

YOU – did I frighten myself so much that I started to tremble

because of it, smell my soul, even if my eyelids are closed, I can

feel how my eyes are beginning to drizzle, did You respond or do

you just appear to me out of my fear so as to revive my desire to

fight, oh, You, oh, All mighty, Allahu Akbar! is that really You?

I can feel how you're sliding your fingers into your pants and

down there it's all wet because of that, oh, God, what was it that

you said to Judas, whatever you do, do it quickly, the only thing

which still interests me right now is whether it's day or night

outside?...

10.

4 rolls

100g beef sausages 400 L

1 fruit juice

“Pinocchio” picture book

and a postcard of Milan 370 L

770 L

-and the words poured out of his lips;

-the judge whom they quickly woke up;

-I'm unhappy because, first and foremost, I've always been lonely;

-banished from the family;

-I fled naked, having left the sheet in which I'd been swaddled in

my parents' hands;

-if I could then I'd like to be silent and cry, as long and as

painfully as possible;

-I'd like to be my peace's best friend, but life has made fun of

me. Particularly well;

-why did I enjoy sniffing ink? Was that, even back then, a clear

sign that I'm a lesbian?

-Sometimes a lady's skin has the smell of ink;

-Father was short. He didn't like crowds because he would get

easily lost in them;

-Mum was unnaturally tall. She was absolutely crazy for sex.

Father drove her particularly mad; him being like a dwarf ignited

the most morbid of fantasies in her, which I was myself witness

to. The pair of them were like two dogs that nobody paid any

attention to. Once I was just a couple of feet away from them. So

as to get into my mother, just like Zacchaeus who climbed up a

wild fig tree so as to be able to see Jesus, he climbed onto her.

After that, she'd always sit down the floor for him, on her knees,

both of them would watch the television screen with idiotic grins

on their faces, they'd already lay themselves out some bread

sticks in a glass, he'd shove them into her mouth, she into his,

each time saying to one another “And you? I've just had two of

them, now you take two in a row.”

And just two hours ago, before coitus interruptus, I listened to

that pygmy from the other room as he beat my mother in the locked

bedroom.

“And you? I've just had two of them, now you take two in a row.”

-Lunch was better on that day. I could tell this from the thick,

red wine mixed with a bit of water;

-why did my father learn German when, from his very nature, he

hated Germans;

-German women, with whom he didn't have to sprechen German, were

an entirely different case. As far as these things are concerned,

the human race manages to communicate in the same way as animals

do;

-It was possible no note changes to his accent and the tone of his

voice in the ways in which he spoke to my mother and to other

women. He had a softer tone with others, whilst with my mother

he'd give a sign with his shoulders that her conversation

irritated him, and in a dangerous way;

-I'd only ever once felt love for him: I came across him on the

river bank, he was silent, drawing some sort of symbols into the

sand which I couldn't understand. I just wanted to ask him what

these drawings meant. But at the very same moment a large wave

flooded onto the scribbles in the sand, leaving the area levelled;

-That's none of your business? – he said in words which were full

of chastity and sureness. He then fell silent and peacefully

watched somewhere beyond me, somewhere into the horizon. I didn't

want to try any further;

-I once dreamed of myself wrapped up in a sheet, in a casket above

which was the lid which had already been prepared and upon which

was written in gold letters: A CASKET FOR A PERSON WHO NEVER EVEN

LIVED. Some woman, and this was once again me, passed by the

deceased and, with two fingers, opened up my eyelids: “Yes, that's

her, I recognise her because she has such colourful eyes. One of

her eyes was always orange, the other was always purple”. There

was a knife wound on the neck, it was fresh, but no blood was

flowing from it. The face was beautiful and divine, just like I'd

want to have after my actual death. Who knows, maybe I haven't

been her for a long time? Maybe I died a long time ago, and right

now that dead girl is dreaming of this wretch here in the lift? –

ALLOW THE DEAD TO BURY THE LIVING!

-One day, a man was galloping along the road which leads to Capernaum and jumped of

his horse in front of Jesus. He was an officer in the Antipine army, without doubt a pagan,

but he'd gained favour with the Jews because he'd built them a synagogue. The

officer had come to ask Jesus to come to the town and heal his son;

-My father was a man of pleasure, without significance, and as

such he had fallen in love with his brother's wife. That's how my

aunt became my stepmother:

-When dealing with a woman, a man should have a peacock's

arrogance, a goat's lust and a lion's wrath, whilst a woman will

only attract his attention through the cunningness of a fox and

the innocence of a dove;

-Am I beginning to rant and rave? It's about time I lit another

match;

-In complete purity and asceticism, with long hair tied back in a

ponytail, I would love to lie on a bare rock and fall asleep

forever;

-And the birthday is over...

11.

But when I wanted to pull one of the lift's doors wide open, I

could feel that it was caught on something, I presumed it was a

shard of glass, which didn't seem in the least bit odd to me

because I knew that they were scattered all over the floor, and so

I put my outspread palm down there, but very carefully so that in

the darkness none of those glass thorns would end up in my skin,

however unpleasant it then felt, how terribly tormented would I be

then, I can only imagine, that would be the last thing I’d need,

but I stretched out a finger so that I could unblock whatever was

preventing the partially ajar door from opening with the tip of my

finger, and then, I could feel something which I wouldn't even

have expected in a dream, under my skin I felt something scaly and

smooth, which couldn’t have been glass, on the contrary, it was

hard and – as I already mentioned – scaly and smooth, whilst with

the very ends of my fingers, from there, I got hold of something

soft, like when you've got some sun cream on your finger; I

carefully brought my finger up towards my nose, hoping – I believe

– that it wasn't in fact my own excrement, from over in the

corner, I sniffed to see what it smelt of – scent or in fact

stench – and when even then I couldn't figure out what it could

be, still not daring to bring it any closer to my tongue to see

whether what was on the end of my finger could be good to eat, in

that moment I shifted the weight of my body from one bum-cheek

onto the other so as to free up my other hand in order to have a

feel of what was under the partly ajar door, still holding on a

finger of my left hand what I'd got a hold of a little earlier,

but then I once again felt that same smooth scaliness, which gave

a little under the pressure of my finger, it's got to be some sort

of insect, I thought with a certain fear that, God forbid, it

might bite me, because at this point I was not in the least bit in

the mood for that, or, if there were more of them – maybe dozens,

maybe hundreds – for them to climb all up and down me in search of

something to eat, on me or of me, because I began to stink of

sweat, it seemed to me, as if I was falling apart like a corpse,

already smelly enough that I could do a good job of imitating a

carcass, which would be delicious for their little mouths, which

would patiently munch their way through their prey in the

darkness, decompose me and make a tasty meal out of me, they'll

torture me with their sharp little claws and proboscides all over

me, I'll feel their three or four pairs of legs, they'll lay their

eggs in me after which millions of other tiny insects will hatch

out of me and settle in me, thinking that I'm their mother, after

which billions and billions of other little insects will come,

they'll be my grandchildren, I'll be their granny, then great-

granny, and then great-great-granny and all of them will crawl all

over me, just as we crawl around the memories of our grandmothers

and great-grandmothers and don't let them rest in peace in their

graves, they'll all crawl all over me until they've entirely

covered me and chewed me up, leaving me my smooth, white skeleton

as a heritage, that is unless they don't eat that up too so that

not a single trace would be left of me, that's what I mulled over

in that terrible fear and I tried hard to think what it might be,

and then I suddenly pulled myself together, I realised that I'm

drenched in sweat and shaking all over, fearing that these

intruders could either bite me or eat me, I worked out that my

only chance of saving myself was to take one of the few remaining

matches from the box, I frantically stuck two fingers into it,

struggling for some time to get out just one, strangely enough I

finally did it, I place the match's little head against the

striking board, all I'd need now is for the phosphorus to crumble

off, I thought, the strike doesn't need to be long, just short and

decisive so that the phosphorus ignites from the accumulated

friction, I scratched the head against the rough surface having

turned my line of sight away from it so that the sudden light

wouldn't blind me, in the other hand which wasn't holding the

matchbox, with the end of my fingers I was still holding that soft

thing which I'd dipped into a little earlier, and then, once my

eyes had somewhat got used to the light of the burning match, I

saw it – alas! – beneath that partially ajar door, between the

shards of glass, I could see a crushed cockroach, a black roach,

whose upper shell had cracked open in the middle when I'd pressed

against its back with the door, whilst what I'd dipped the end of

my finger into was its white innards which had been somewhat

smeared across the floor around it, I look at the entrails on my

fingertips which I was still holding along with the matchbox, the

finger was pointed upwards as though I was threatening someone, so

it was that then, I finally conclude, there aren't a million

cockroaches or a billion of them, apart from this one, I could

also see one other which was frantically scrabbling around in

circles in the corner because the door had lopped of his left row

of legs, meaning that he could no longer flee either backwards or

forwards but just kept going round and round in circles, and so,

before the match burned out, I pressed down on it with a larger

piece of glass so that before I once again end up in darkness I

could remember where I'd left it, with a chill I thus ascertain

that I'm already preparing for something which even a complete

headcase wouldn't think of, am I considering trying to eat their

white innards, I'm checking with myself, but I'm immediately

answering as though I'm assuring myself, don't do it if you're

such a lady and you get queasy, don't, so I didn't manage to

convince myself, but I knew that I thought like this when I didn't

rub it off my finger onto the wall, as I would usually have done

had the circumstances been different, I had to think fast, there

was no time for philosophy here, I said, I had to think about this

quickly, of course, as best as I could and would, dear God

almighty, what's good and what isn't, all I know is that it's

bloody good to stay alive, especially when you find yourself in

such a lousy situation like I am now, is it worth living, the

absurd, the absurd of the absurd – YOUR VOICE'S VOICE VOICES A

VOICEFUL VOICE – and other bollocks like that, what's good and

what's not, I know that it's worth staying alive, to get out of

here even if then the very next second I’d throw myself off

somewhere very high up like my great-great-great-great-great

granddad, I remember that I read somewhere – in a book or a

newspaper or wherever? – I'm not sure where, how in that

disgusting and rank insect-beetle, which spends its whole life in

the darkness of sewage pipes, there are nutritious ingredients,

proteins in its innards, and I feverishly begin to think about

what to do, cast away my gastronomic prejudices and chauvinism or

just lick what's still left off my fingertips? – I crumbled the

burned-out match between my fingers – I'm thinking about how to

use it because I'm at the end of my tether, something has to be

done before I completely begin to hallucinate, which would send me

totally bonkers and in the end I'd go mad out of hunger and

exhaustion, so I worked it out like this: it'd be an utterly

skanky thing to do, for me to eat a cockroach's guts, true, she

convinced herself, attempting to swallow down her saliva although

her mouth was already like a dried up Artesian aquifer, which made

her throat hurt, she believed that dying, death – as they say –

might have already begun, the disgusting insect, my dear, it's

absolutely stuffed with nutritious proteins, she remembered, in

fact, how a while back she'd received an excellent grade from

proteins in home economics class, but at the same moment she

recalled something, what if it won’t be enough for me to survive,

I'll have to use it as bait to lure out all the other cockroaches

which must be everywhere around here, they just sent this one and

that one on a reconnaissance patrol to see whether I was still

alive, I'll hold one dead cockroach as bait, then I'll kill the

new intruder, but I'll empty out all the innards from that old one

and so on, I'll clean out all of their bellies and line them up

along the wall, I'll eat all of them and throw up but I'll put my

hand across my mouth and hold it all in and send it back down into

my guts, this is neither the time nor the place for morals, the

real battle against death is still to come, of course it was

necessary to lick this off the tips of my fingers, I'm overcome by

fever, I'm completely broken, I can't move anywhere from here,

nobody will bring me any water, I'm so parched, my tongue and

throat are so sore, it's as though I'm falling to pieces, I can't

eat anything, I can't drink anything, my lips are all crusty, I'm

shaking even more now from this fever, she stuck the whole finger

in her mouth and started to suck it just like how an infant sucks

at its mother's nipple, why did Madam Anera always act weirdly

towards me, when they were about to leave in the lobby she didn't

even hold out her hand to say goodbye? Did she already know

something at that point or was the gesture entirely coincidental?

12.

In order to protect myself from sick fantasies, I tried to

pick myself up, but I realised that I was already so weak and

powerless that, in a state of semi consciousness, I felt as though

I'd fall straight back down onto the floor as soon as I'd attempt

it, which I really doubt I will, the leg which I'd stretched out

beneath me was already cramping, I turned towards the wall so as

to take the weight off it and I could clearly feel how the cramp

was gradually moving into the other leg, the floor is cold and

prickly from the glass, I'm losing my sense of balance, I'd like

to turn to face the opposite wall, my birthday had already passed

by, gone in the blink of an eye, you're chasing after birthdays,

chasing after years, what do they even mean in this immeasurable

time, just like the fluttering wings of a fairy cavalier, it'll be

that Charles III searched for me – SEARCHED, SOUGHT– oh, God,

don't bring my misery to temptation – he realised because of those

outdoor lights, oh, what outdoor lights, please, that nerd turned

them all off before I managed to warn him, it's complete darkness

out there and Charles III probably thought, given that I'd got

angry with him the last time we'd seen each other, that I'd also

gone to America with the Lord and Lady, and my Charles III was

spot on, this is the real America here, my dear Charles III, the

true promised land of America, I'll tell you all about how

fantastic it was in this dreamland, Charles III, but how could I,

there's no words to describe it, everything I tell you – ANYTHING

YOU DO SAY MAY BE GIVEN IN EVIDENCE AGAINST YOU IN A COURT OF LAW

– will just be an attempt to describe the indescribable, Charless-

ss the Thirdd-dd, why did our silly little tiffs and your pride

permit you from coming here and ringing your little Ida's door,

foolish and beautiful Ida, and all those lovely things, and to say

to her, listen love, don't you see that I love you and stop

fucking around and it would end there for your stupid Ida... I

can't use my hands, they've gone completely numb, I’d like to

sleep, I want to fall asleep, I'm constantly struggling against

sleep, I should gobble up another cockroach before that and then

peacefully drift off into hibernation, my mouth's dry, how much

longer is there until Sir and Madam's return, I expect that the

letter-box in front of the house has filled up with postcards and

none of those idiots find it at all odd that it doesn't get

emptied and they don't get taken away, my tongue's thickened

inside my mouth, I don't know what to do with it, if it were

possible then I'd roll it up and stick it behind my teeth, if only

I could moisten it with something, sometimes I become

disillusioned from all of this and then disgust myself, but I find

solace in the fact that everybody would be like that in my

position, I say to myself, don't allow it, Ida... don't allow

what, Ida?, I mean, I'm trying to remember what I was thinking but

nothing else remains other than for me to kid myself and roll my

eyes in this darkness without even a single thought and without

any sort of possibility that I'll remember what I was thinking

about before that, dear God, dear God, all that's left for me to

do is cry, it seems as though those are the only two words I still

know, dear God, dear God, with every hour of starvation millions

and millions of my organism's cells are dying, it's as though I'm

losing all of my will, don't give in Ida, now at the end, just

hold on a bit longer, wake up, there's only a little bit longer,

you're still thinking, you're still able to think, you still know

that you're thinking, you're still able to command yourself, you

can see that you're still alive, I want to sleep, don't sleep,

wake up, all I want is to fall asleep and never wake up again,

wake up, don't fall asleep, just fight a bit more, I can hear

someone calling me, like they're summoning me to fight, but I

don't want to do anything anymore, let alone fight, I fought for

as long as I could, cells won't die exponentially, I want to close

my eyes and fall asleep forever, there are fifteen cockroaches in

my gut, they wanted to gobble me up but it was me who gobbled them

up, ha, ha, what a wonderful twist, the sixteenth is bait for the

seventeenth, would my bones hold at the joints when I'm a skeleton

or would they come apart and make a pile of bones – this pile

would be Madam Bum-Bum – the lift goes down to the ground floor,

Signor Katil opens the doors and my skeleton is there in the

corner, or rather, a bunch a bones gets up in a panic, where've

you two been? and don't go thinking that you'll escape justice for

this, we stayed here so that we'd be able to tell the world what

you did to Madam Bum-Bum, why am I now getting the feeling that

I'm not going to survive when, until now, I'd constantly believed

in myself, why would I sleep when there's only a little time left,

just a few more days, I'm sure of it, she tried to encourage

herself, but this belief would subsequently drain out of her

immediately and she'd just begin to blabber, I need to write a

letter to Charles III and tell him that I'll come in that dark

night, I didn't behave very well, everything which I've done, all

of it's my fault, the happiest I ever felt in life was when I'd

been stood in front of a field of red tulips, I can just imagine

what a beautiful country Holland is for this very reason, the

Dutch have got it easy, their fields are covered in red tulips,

just a few more days, I'll count if needs be, one by one, one,

two, three, four, five..., I'll divide days into hours, hours into

minutes, minutes into miles, and years into grams... there aren't

any minutes in one gram, I'll divide all of it into little parts

so that time flies so much that I can't even follow it, I'll see

how the Lord and Lady are rushing towards the villa, and I'll

still keep saying to myself, hang on in there Madam Bum-Bum, hang

in there just a bit longer Bum-Bum, if you die then nobody will

remember the Bogomils, everything that you've gone through until

now, an animal couldn't do it, from out of her came something

along the lines of oo-www! – but not so long that she could

discern the sounds, it was something like a mumbling – mm-uu –

followed by a short squeal, and then silence, she strained her

ears, with the joy of having realised how in that moment it was

becoming sharper: her ear had never caught hold of so many sounds

as now, they were causing sheer excitement in her nerves, but with

a part of her consciousness she also realised that in her solitude

and silence those sounds and noises mean that time was still

elapsing for her and that she still existed and, as soon as she

managed to establish this, it meant that she was still alive and

ready to fight as much as possible all until she is startled from

her raptures and sweet intoxication by some latent puppy –

caution, and before she orders herself, she prefers not to think

of anything, she's counting buffalos in a herd instead, or Merino

sheep in a flock of a million, come on, old Bum-Bum, be clever and

count to one million, and then again to one million, count to one

hundred million and then you'll be sure that in one hundred

million seconds you're getting closer to the Lord and Lady's

arrival, just count – PACK UP YOUR TROUBLES IN YOUR OLD KIT-BAG

AND SMILE, SMILE, SMILE – my one and only Bum-Bum, she pondered to

herself, thinking and preparing to speak out – PETER PIPER PICKED

A PECK OF PICKLED PEPERS – that which she was once able to say the

in her class or - SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS – a twisted

smile formed at the edges of her lips, but at the same moment she

felt a sting of pain, her lips returned to their previous

positions, you only realise it when it's all been lost, she

concludes, nobody knows anything until they've lost it all, when

they've got to start from the beginning for the second time – ONCE

MORE INTO THE BREACH – as fast as you can – rolling in money –

EENIE MEENIE MI-NY MOE, CAT-CH A TI-GER BY IT-S TOE – love and

friendship deserve each other, solitude as well, it's just that

it's always passive, it needs to be understood: when a person's

only outlet is cockroach guts, despair passes it's claws across

that person's soul and the day comes when the soul needs to meet

itself, it has to look at itself and then realise that it has met

its unfamiliar self, everything then becomes fragile, nothing is

protecting it any longer, her heart is entirely spent... I'm sure

I weigh less that five stone now, my liver's killing me, damn this

rotten and heartless world, I'd sell my soul for a bowl of soup,

for a slice of watermelon, only my head's still a little clearer,

my tongue is salty and thickened... this might be the worst death

of all possible deaths... but, as always, the truth will never be

known...

Sead Mahmutefendić

II

ANEXUS HUI LIBRO ET

FINIS HUIUS HISTORIAE

126

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

127

Sead Mahmutefendić

128

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

An

extract from the court records

concerning

testimonies made by the 129

Sead Mahmutefendić

prosecutor regarding the

case of the

attempted murder of Miss Tevhida

Agalar.

The

procedure was initiated upon the

demand of Mr

Mauro Kirk, Miss Tevhida

Agalar's lawyer, against

Antonio Sforza, a

dealer in ornate furniture from

Milan.

Suspected of attempted murder with

the intent to take the life of Miss

Tevhida Agalar, aged 23, born in

Sarajevo, Yugoslavia, the aforementioned

individual intentionally left her to

130

Suze Dauta Arfadžana spend thirty-one days trapped inside a

lift without either recourse to either

food or water, having allegedly

unscrewed the fuse from the main control

board, under the pretence of protecting

his three-storey villa from the threat

of fires before leaving with his wife,

Mrs Anera Sforza, to visit friends in

the United States of America for one

month.

Mr Antonio Sforza is blamed for, and

likewise accused of, the incriminating

act on the basis of the irrefutable

evidence that he did this with the clear

intent of taking Miss Tevhida Agalar's

life. At the behest of this court, the

accused is to be detained and held in

custody. The court council has

questioned and interrogated Mr Antonio131

Sead Mahmutefendić

Sforza on three occasions, as well as

his wife Mrs Anera Sforza, née Contini.

Both answered questions under oath,

having beforehand placed their palms

upon a copy of God's sacred gospel which

the judge held in his hands. Under oath,

the judge asked Mr Sforza whether in any

way he felt any sense of guilt for that

which has been alleged in Miss Tevhida

Agalar's prosecution, the accused giving

the categorical answer that not only did

he not feel guilty for that which Miss

Agalar was charging him with but rather

that he felt insulted because of the

insinuations and direct allusions made

in this accusation. However, besides all

else, his aristocratic roots do not

permit revenge and he is ready to

132

Suze Dauta Arfadžana forgive and forget, viewing this

unintentional and unfortunate

misunderstanding as pure negligence from

both parties, as much from himself as

also from Miss Agalar.

The accused Mr Sforza was then asked

whether he was able to assume what would

happen after he had unscrewed the fuse

from the control board, to which he

stated that he could only presume that

it would cut off the supply of

electricity to the villa from the main

power supply.

(Laughter in the room. The judge

threatens to empty the room if the

public does not calm down)

In the same way, Miss Tevhida Agalar

was also asked whether, after he had

turned the main fuse, the accused Mr133

Sead Mahmutefendić

Antonio Sforza departed the villa by

running or in any other visible way

hurrying, briskly getting into his car

in order for the two of them to get to

Milan's airport, or whether he had,

perhaps, stayed some time to observe her

reaction (shouting, cries, yelling) in

the lift, the sole witness Mrs Anera

Sforza, née Contini, energetically

answers that there was absolutely no

hurry nor was there any sort of

chivvying along on the part of her

husband, Mr Antonio Sforza, but rather

the opposite in fact, he had gone around

the whole villa once again to check

whether all the windows were closed.

When also asked whether he had ever

been in hostile relations with Miss

134

Suze Dauta Arfadžana Tevhida Agalar, he denied this to have

been the case.

When the hearing's chief judge asks

the accused Mr Antonio Sforza whether he

wishes to lodge with the court any type

of objection to the way in which his

interrogation is being carried out or,

perhaps, offer any statement, he answers

that he is honestly sorry for Miss Ida

(this is how he said it, without giving

her surname), that he is sorry for the

trauma which she has suffered whilst in

the lift, but that he really is innocent

in all of this.

“This is something similar to when a

careless pedestrian runs out in front of

a car and because of this the driver is

freed since he was neither guilty nor

responsible for either injury or death.135

Sead Mahmutefendić

I can't describe it to you any

differently. I think I've been

completely clear about it.”

The court then summoned the

plaintiff, Miss Agalar, as a witness,

whose questioning, immediately from the

very outset, took a very strange

direction. An interpreter was not

necessary.

Judge: What is your name?

Plaintiff: Džanija Vilogorska.

Judge (furiously hitting the desk

with his wooden gavel): I will not allow

you to make a farce out of this court

and thrust false information upon it. In

my records it states that your name is

Miss Tevhida Agalar.

136

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Plaintiff: Exactly, that's what I

was once called but, after this cruel

event I'm called Džanija Vilogorska.

She stands at the rostrum opposite

the judge’s desk. A torrent of words

came bursting out of her. Her upper lip

was speaking in Christian, her lower lip

in Muslim. Whilst her lips were moving

up and down, they became all tangled up

like two powerless worms.

Firstly, she set out how she was

sure that Mr Antonio Sforza had intended

to kill her by turning off the

electricity, having unscrewed the main

fuse from the control panel at the

moment when he must have seen that the

red light had come on, which was next to

the lift's door on each floor and meant

that the lift was moving, in this case137

Sead Mahmutefendić

with her in it towards the ground floor,

and since she was the only person in the

villa and the lift can't go anywhere if

it's empty, he had known full well who

was inside it. She'd remembered an

occasion when she'd been putting away

the bedding, whilst leaning towards the

bed and singing one of her Bosnian

sevdalinka songs, all of a sudden she'd

felt someone's hand in her pants. When

she turned around she saw the present,

Mr Antonio Sforza, stood there with some

sort of frozen grin on his face. I

calmly straightened myself up and looked

at him coldly. Our faces were just

inches away. This confused him.

“What's the meaning of this?” I

asked the gentleman.

138

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

He'd gone pale and was completely

confused by how the situation was

panning out. I don't think he'd expected

this sort of reaction from a maid, or

colf as you say in your language.

“You can probably guess... what

could a man be looking for in such a

beautiful woman?” Mr Antonio Sforza

answered me.

Some devil told me that I'm not

allowed to let a situation slip which

was happening the way I wanted it to and

not against me.

I turned my head in the direction of

the closed door behind where I knew Mrs

Anera Sforza, née Contini, was in her

wheelchair which she had now used for

several years.

139

Sead Mahmutefendić

The master turned his view in the

same direction as mine. Both of us

looked at the closed rectangle of the

door.

“If we go to that door the way we

are now and you open it then I promise

to be yours”, I suggested to him.

As if his hand was in a basket full

of cobras, mambas and rattlesnakes, he

yanked it out of my pants and then told

me something for which I now accuse him

of having had the intent to kill me

since he was afraid that I'd blurt it

out somewhere.

“Listen, you!” (he addressed me

abruptly as “you” even though previously

until then he'd always been polite to

me) “I'm only with that old battle-axe

140

Suze Dauta Arfadžana who's behind that door in a wheelchair

solely for two reasons: her foreign

currency accounts, which don’t contain

all that much on them, and because of

the history of her illness. If you ruin

that for me by saying I rammed my hand

in your pants and wanted to shag you...

five million people live in Milan...

only the rats' guts in the city's sewers

will know where one stupid Bosnian-

Muslim bitch ended up...”

Therefore, from that little bulb, he

had to have known that she was in the

lift and that this was the perfect

opportunity to commit the perfect crime.

The plaintiff then said something

which sounded like a profanity to those

who were present, and when the chief

judge insisted that she explain to the141

Sead Mahmutefendić

court what her mumbling meant, she

announced that she'd uttered a curse in

the language of her ancestors; she had

said it in a way that her upper lip had

been raised, while at the same time her

lower one was used for a prayer which

she whispered in some sort of strange

dialect. From the way in which her mouth

opened, her tongue would occasionally

poke out, split at the tip. Her eyes –

one orange, the other purple – burned

glassily at the jury and looked smaller

than they in fact were.

One of her hands usually seemed to

be doing the opposite of whatever the

other was doing. If the right one was

stretched out then the left one was

contracted, or, if one of them was

142

Suze Dauta Arfadžana pointing towards something, the other

would usually deflect such attention

away from it.

Certain sections of her testimony

lead the chief judge to suspect that she

was not the same as her cynical

reactions. Her language was as cold as

an executioner's axe, as sharp and as

wicked as the whistle a scythe makes

when it is swung and then falls back.

Her fists and her fat fingers didn't

look as though they belonged to a girl

but rather to a grown up man.

And when, therein, the chief judge

asked her for her nationality, she

stressed that she was a Bogomil or a

Christian and that for this reason she

was called Džanija Vilogorka. The chief

judge then asked her in all seriousness143

Sead Mahmutefendić

what the reason was for all of her

ancestors having vanished from the face

of the earth, wherein she came out from

behind the rostrum and approached the

judge's table, watching him from the

lower angle, standing on her tip-toes so

that he might see her better, and she

flung forward that split tongue towards

him: “If a particular idea is too good

to be able to survive then that is a

flaw in the idea itself. It is not

because people don't need it, but rather

because it would be even worse for

humanity.”

Rijeka, March 1987.

144

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Sead Mahmutefendić

SUZE DAUTA ARFADŽANA

145

Sead Mahmutefendić

And therefore I forbid my tears, but yet

It is our trick,

nature her custom holas

Let sheme say what it

will; when there are gone

The woman will be out

W. Skakespeare: Hamlet

146

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

147

Sead Mahmutefendić

1.

Više njih u poroti se složilo da

moja priča zapravo ništa ne znači, te

vjerovatno ima tome neki razlog što

izbjegavam odgovore na njihova izravna

pitanja, te da je netko od tih sijedih

glava upitao zašto to činim, zasigurno

ga ne bih mogao zadovoljiti bilo kakvim

objašnjenjem, jer ni sam nisam znao zbog

čega to činim niti su mi bili jasni

razlozi što od procesa činim neku vrstu

cirkusa, što me je posebno veselilo,

osobito onda kad bi predsjednik suda

lupao svojim drvenim čekićem da bi

umirio uskomešane duhove u sudnici

upozoravajući ih na pristojnost i

148

Suze Dauta Arfadžana eventualne posljedice zbog ometanja

normalnog rada suda, što je prisutne,

isti tren, natjeralo da se smire i

umire, premda se u zraku osjećalo da je

tužba za sad nemoćna prema optuženom te

da nije u stanju dokučiti i odgonetnuti

one stvari u koje se sama uplela, pa je

to optuženom i odbrani bila neka vrsta

alibija i satisfakcije da se čvor ne da

otpetljavati ni razmrsiti, što sam

smatrao u svemu ovom najmanje važnim,

mada nisam držao nevažnim razloge koji

su doveli do svega ovog, pa sam stoga

ubrzo shvatio da moram biti iskren iznad

svega - bar koliko to od mene zavisi -

kako bi stvari mogle nastaviti ići isto

onako sporim i laganim tokom kao i

dotad, a koje sam nastojao da nešto od

toga zaustavim, ometem ili skrenem tok149

Sead Mahmutefendić

optužbe, iako to sad ne bi išlo u moju

korist; - naprotiv - ubrzo sam shvatio

da se potvrđuje ono što je protiv mene i

što je u dosluhu s mojim strahom i

bojazni, a što je, na svu sreću, meni

već odavno postalo jasno, te sam

pokušavao hinjiti kako mi je sve

svejedno, pa više nisam imao namjeru da

se pravdam pred svima kao ni pred samim

sobom jer mi je sad najmanje stalo kakav

ću biti u svojim očima, a zapravo sam

znao tko sam i zbog toga mi nije stalo

kako će ova tu gospoda odmršavati konce

mog proteklog života, što je opet

zavisilo hoću li im ja dati pravo da uđu

u njega a nisam dao da im to priuštim

zbog činjenice da im time samo dajem

prednost da ćopkaju i otkrivaju moje

150

Suze Dauta Arfadžana rane, kojih bješe i previše da bih mogao

izdržati sva ta bolna mjesta, pa je to

bio glavni razlog što sam se odlučio na

šutnju, koja nije bila rezultat moje

odluke da nekog ignoriram, već, eto,

jednostavno što nisam nalazio pametnim

da odgovaram na njihova ravnodušna,

rutinska i indiskretna pitanja, kojih je

bilo i previše, a od kojih mi se većina

činila da ne mogu ubrzati tok istrage,

već, naprotiv, mogu je samo još više

ukopati u jednom mjestu te na taj način

još više pojačati u meni osjećaj da svi

ovdje činimo nešto što apsolutno nema

nikakvog smisla po moju sudbinu, jer sam

već tad bio pomiren s najtežom kaznom, i

to me nije ozlojađivalo utoliko što sam

već bio spreman dopustiti da mi već tad

netko od najbješnjih u sali stavi omču151

Sead Mahmutefendić

oko vrata ili, jednostavno, da priđem

nekom od milicionara, mojih čuvara,

izvadi mu pištolj iz futrole i saspe mi

cijeli šaržer u glavu; - ništa osobito

ne bih imao protiv toga, dapače, ja sam

svojom šutnjom još više ubrzavao i

pospješavao tu stvar, što sam jasno

vidio iz očiju njih nekolicine koji su

se našli u mom vidokrugu, pa sam, isti

tren, nasumice, zaključio da su svi ti

ljudi oko mene onakvi kakvi se meni čine

i kao takvi oni će biti pobjednici nada

mnom, mada se ni u čemu bitno ne

razlikujemo jedni od drugih i mada

priznajem da često pomislim kako je vrlo

moguće da mi netko od ovih kretena i

pozavidi što sam učinio, jer za

ubojstvo, osobito onakvo kao što je moje

152

Suze Dauta Arfadžana - masovno - stvarno treba imati petlju,

odvažnost, hrabrost i drskost da se

savlada normalan čovjekov strah što će

mu biti sa životom, što me je sad pred

njima činilo gordim dotle da sam ih

prezirao što oni nisu niti će biti u

stanju to ikad učiniti, pa prema tome i

nemaju pravo ni suditi za tu moju

ljudsku odluku zbog koje sjedim na

optuženičkoj klupi - sam, čas ponosan,

čas prestrašen, jer bi me najednom

zaskočila, nakon ugodnih osjećaja i

zadovoljstva, prava mora što je svakako

zavisilo i od toga koliko sam u tom

trenutku imao samopouzdanja u sebe, jer

bi se dešavalo da me najednom neka

ledena ruka ščepa za srce, a nečije

avetinjsko lice dalo bi mi naslutiti da

ću ja stvarno uskoro završiti pred153

Sead Mahmutefendić

streljačkim strojem zbog odluke ovih

ljudi, kojih meni često dođe žao te bih

im se od srca slatko smijao u lice, ali

sam, istovremeno, bio svjestan da moj

bijedni i ništavni život do kojeg mi,

tako mi se ponekad učini, ne držim ni

kao crno ispod nokta, zavisi od

razumijevanja i samilosti od sijedih

glava, mada ni u tim trenucima nisam

mogao dokučiti prave razloge koji su me

stalno držali u napetoj neizvjesnoj nadi

da spojim iskrzane i isprekidane končiće

sa svojim životom, iako sam već odavno

postao svjestan da bi ih valjalo jednom

zauvijek presjeći, smotati u klupko,

baciti u smeće i konačno sklopiti oči,

mada sam bio najmanje pozvan da govorim

o tome, jer sam već odavno to pravo

154

Suze Dauta Arfadžana uskratio sebi smatrajući da time

postižem mudrost, a danas me više

nikakva želja nikud ne mami i ne vodi

osim one da naskroz ne smijem zanemariti

tijelo i ovo malo nesretne duše u njemu

što ga muči i usmjerava ovakvog patnog,

još više unakazuje; to me dovelo dotle

da ustanovim kako više nema ni svrhe ni

smisla razmijeniti ljudski pogled s

drugim čovjekom, jer svuda uokolo vidim

samo da je moj postupak učinio korov i

pustinju, bez obzira što nisam tako

mislio, - i ja se pitam: što ću ja još

ovdje, jer nikom nisam potreban niti sam

kome poželjan, te - na koncu - nisam li

ja zlorabio božje povjerenje jer sam

postao čovjek negativnih vibracija oko

sebe, pa zar sam morao sticati mučno i

bolno iskustvo da to zaključim? te jesam155

Sead Mahmutefendić

li morao obići cijeli krug i na kružnici

opet naći sebe ovakvog nesavršenog i

lomnog kakav sam i bio kad sam tek

izišao iz majčine utrobe i nije li to

moglo sve biti drukčije? te da počnem

ispočetka kad je kasno sinoć moj

odvjetnik navratio do mene u ćeliju da

mi postavi nekoliko rutinskih pitanja i

pribilježi u notes moje kratke,

rezignirane i smušene odgovore, a odmah

potom, samo što sam pomislio da je sve

gotovo i da će se on za koji trenutak

ustati sa stolice i otići iz ćelije, on

me najednom upita da li bi mi smio nešto

prijateljski predložiti, mada je i sam

znao da nisam mogao biti raspoložen da

ugađam nečijim prijedlozima, jer je to

uostalom bilo suvišno za istragu te,

156

Suze Dauta Arfadžana iako sam to držao izlišnim, klimnem ja

glavom prema njemu na što se on

častohlepno nastavi da je naša žalba

odbijena, da mu je iskreno žao zbog toga

- više zbog mene nego zbog sebe i svog

ugleda - da mu je odista žao, ali da

neće tek tako dići ruke od te stvari i

da će se boriti dok god postoji i zadnja

mogućnost da se preinači prvostupanjska

odluka suda, jer i on, i pored svega, ne

može to dopustiti te da sam ja takav,

takav i takav, na što se ja dignem iz

kreveta te nervozno i odlučno izjavim da

me više ne maltretira tom mediteranskom

brbljačinom i pederskom patetikom,

velikim riječima koje, u stvari, ništa

ne znače, i on se tad diže užagrenih

očiju uprtih u mene: pa, Daute, sad mi

se čini da vrijedi pokušati, ne smijemo157

Sead Mahmutefendić

se tek tako predati sudbini i da u

sudskoj praksi ovakve riječi nisu baš

beznačajne; - i baš te takve pederske

riječi treba baciti na papir u žalbi i

da preko njih probudimo emocije porote i

prisutnih, što će biti prvim korakom da

promućkamo i zaposlimo njihove tikve

kako bi ih natjerali da odgonetaju

uzroke našeg čina (da, baš je tako rekao

u množini, kao da je i on samnom učinio

taj zločin), i... kako ono?... da!... i

na taj način prisiliti ih da potraže

olakšavajuće okolnosti, na što mu ja

postavih izravno pitanje da li on još

ima u svom lopovskom spremištu još kakvu

Clownovsku pizdariju u svezi s našom

stvari dajući mu time otvoreno do znanja

da me ne zanima taj njihov ćiftinski

158

Suze Dauta Arfadžana prijedlog, jer sam znao da on time samo

želi izvući korist za sebe, a meni što

usput ostane (kakav cinizam prema

vlastitom životu!), a on mi ipak, za

svaki slučaj, kao da razmišlja o mom

postavljenom pitanju, reče da nema za

sada ništa osobito, te se ponovno vrati

na svoju stvar dodavši da ne bi loše

bilo pokušati to, a ako se predomislim

da mu po čuvaru poručim, na što mu ja

drsko i nestrpljivo podviknem moleći ga

istodobno da me već jednom ostavi na

miru i da on ide lijepo k vragu, a onda

istog trenutka osjetim da sam ono

maloprijašnje izgovorio kranjim naporom

te da je malo nedostajalo da mi se glas

potpuno izgubi, jer sam istodobno prvi

put, istinski, osjetio strah da ne

nestanem zauvijek, što me navede da se159

Sead Mahmutefendić

u zadnjem trenutku suzdržim da mu to

glasno saopćim, i odlučim da mu ništa ne

govorim, krajnjim strpljenjem čekajući

da izađe iz ćelije kako bih napokon

mogao ostati sam, pa da u miru pokušam

potisnuti u stranu sve današnje dojmove

od suviše izgovorenih riječi kojima će,

izgleda, jedini i konačni cilj biti

nahraniti ravnodušne, a meni sad jedino

ostaje da se predam sjećanju na događaje

koji su me doveli na ovo mjesto, samim

tim što sam u posljednje vrijeme počeo

vezivati neke niti u svezi s mojom

Milenom, kojih sada nisam bio svjestan a

koje neću iznijeti na sudu u svoju

obranu što bi za mene, u neku ruku,

moglo predstavljati olakšavajuću

okolnost, jer kako se čovjek može uopće

160

Suze Dauta Arfadžana opravdati i platiti račun od nečega što

na njemu stoji kao što mu i koža stoji,

te kao takvo zauvijek prišiveno i što je

prošlo i zaustavilo se u ušima drugih,

pa stoga, zavalivši se na krevetu,

najprije se prisjetim ono s čime se

sukobio istražni sudac nakon dvije

godine otkako je prošlo od događaja u

kamenolomu nakon kojeg je dvadesetosmog

ožujka tisućudevetstotinaosamdesetprve

godine od moje Lede došla na miliciju

izjava.

2.

Još odranije, u varoši se znalo da

se Daut Arfadžan bavi pisanjem. Znalo se

161

Sead Mahmutefendić

da on u svojim pričama i pjesmama piše o

ljubavnicima po ubogim i samotnim

mjestima. Tako, jednom prilikom, nakon

osme ispijene pivske boce, bez ičijeg

nagovora ili zamolbe, on se penje

najprije na stolac, a zatim na stol,

vadi papir iz unutarnjeg džepa sakoa te

svima u kavani čita sastav u kojem njih

dvoje - ona i on - stoje ispod golog

drveta a s neba ih obasjava bljedožuta

mjesečina.

Tišina je neko vrijeme trajala do

prvih glasova koji prekinuše pjesnika iz

zanesenosti. Izgleda, da je imao nakanu

još nešto pročitati ili pak dočitati, no

dokonjaci oko njega zahtijevali su da se

ne prestane s pijenjem, pa su ga ruke

162

Suze Dauta Arfadžana svukle sa stolca i oni su vikali: “Uraa!

Gore poezija! Dolje svakodnevnica!”

Bilježnicu s pričama i stihovima

držao je Daut na najgornjoj polici svoje

knjižnice od tridesetak knjiga. Kao neku

relikviju, ljubomorno ju je čuvao i

skrivao od svačijeg pogleda i dodira.

Ali osam piva otkriše svu stvar.

Nikom to, dakle, nije promaklo,

niti ostalo neprimjećenim, a niti se

Daut više nije posebice trudio da to

prikrije. Dapače, kao da je neki golem

teret sebi s leđa svalio. Što više, sad

je nastojao što veći broj varošana s tim

upoznati i upozoriti kako oni u svojoj

sredini imaju živog živcatog pjesnika. U

tome je on toliko daleko odlazio da

veoma često nije bio u stanju praviti

163

Sead Mahmutefendić

razliku između onih koje tobože zanima

njegovo pisanje, te od toga na koncu

naprave lakrdiju i onih koji ga iz

sažaljenja slušaju i brane od takvih

zajedljivaca. Kao da nije, bogznakoliko,

mario za takve. Nije se obazirao ni na

koga. A ako bi to i uočio, s nekom

lakomislenom ironijom pravdao je to

priprostim i zaostalim duhom ove

selendre. On će svojom poezijom

odnjegovati i ispuniti srca ovih ljudi,

koji imaju uši, ali ne znaju čuti, koji

imaju oči, ali ne znaju vidjeti.

Sve je on dopuštao - i da ga vuku

za rukav, da ga dlanom prostački lupaju

po ramenu, posprdnim riječima ponižavaju

- ali nikad nije nalazio shodnim to

zamjeriti i uzeti im za zlo. On je

164

Suze Dauta Arfadžana pjesnik, prema tome, iznad njih je, te

bi bilo glupo od njega prebacivati im za

te njihove sitne podlosti, podmetanja i

zlobe.

Bješe i takvih drznika koji su

posezali za onom njegovom bilježnicom,

trudeći se tobože da je se domognu, a

kad bi vidjeli da im to ne polazi za

rukom, namigujući iza njegovih leđa,

nudili su Dautu kuću, svoju ženu,

sestru, samo da im se smiluje i posudi

im je.

“Ti ne znaš što nosiš sa sobom,

čovječe!” - govorili su. “To je bomba!

Neko će te ucmekati zbog te teke. Samo

se ti zafrkaji.”

”Što bi mene neko ubio?” - pitao

se u čudu Daut.

165

Sead Mahmutefendić

“A što ne bi!” Dokopa se, čovo,

ljepo tvoje teke i evo mu love dok papke

ne otegne. Je l’ ti sad jasno, čovječe

božji?”

Daut je gledao svečano raspoložen.

- Znaš li ti Daute, da su

Amerikanci izumili pištoljčić koji se

nosi u ustima? Priđe ti frajer u mraku

koji ima tako nešto u ustima a zna da si

pun pjesama, i to ne bilo kakvih. Taj

l’jepo zine, aktivira onaj svoj

pištoljčić u ustima i ucmeka te njime.

Uzme ti teku iz džepa i objavi tvoje

pjesme pod svojim imenom. Nit oro nit

kopo, lova je tu. I zato, sunce moje,

kad ti neko priđe u mraku, a ti imaš tu

svoju bilježnicu u džepu, ti samo

166

Suze Dauta Arfadžana drekni: “Zini, golube, da ti vidim

zubiće.”

“Šta će meni njegovi zubi?” upita

Daut.

“Eto, toliko, zanima te jesu li

mu socijalni.”

“Jest’, da ne bi, on zine i

ubije me onom svojom pištoljčugom” -

odgovara spremno Daut.

Neki su bili toliko grlati i

bezobzirni da su otvoreno, pred Dautom,

sumnjali u izvornost njegovih pjesama.

Navodno, oni su čuli od jedne, nije

važno koje osobe, da ih je on kompletno

prepisao od riječi do riječi od jednog

narkomana koji je svirao u jednom

sastavu. Taj momak, čim je izašao iz

bolnice, tužio ga je sudu zbog te krađe,

167

Sead Mahmutefendić

te u zadnji čas spriječio da “od

njegovih duševnih muka, mučnih

preživljavanja, neprospavanih noći,

duševnih muka i silnih drogiranja” ne

ispadne Dautova knjiga.

Dok su smišljali sve opakije i

zluradije optužbe iznoseći stalno nova

sumnjičenja, do modrica su laktovima

ćuškali jedni druge. Osjećali su da

život nije toliko jalov koliko im se

ponekad takvim učini. Uz rakiju i uz

budalu, zna on i te kako biti lijep,

zanimljiv i lagodan.

3.

Prvi kišni rujanski dani zatekli su

Dauta potištenog i utučenog. Nije uopće

sebi osporavao da je tome najveći krivac 168

Suze Dauta Arfadžana početak školske godine, mada je on

pokušavao, u sasvim izmijenjenim

okolnostima, to zataškati nekim drugim i

časnijim izlikama. Ma koliko ga je sa

svakom godinom sve više boljela i

onespokojavala ta neumoljiva i obvezatna

dužnost, on je uvijek krio u sebi

mogućnost da će ovo biti zadnji put

stati pred učenike i da im - napokon -

jasno i glasno dade do znanja da on nema

njima reći ama baš ništa pametno što bi

im inače rekao izvan škole. Isuviše od

svega ovog, krio je u sebi mogućnost da

posumnja u sebe te otvori pitanje ne

krije li takva nakana, u stvari,

mogućnost slijepog vjerovanja zanošenja

sobom i nije li to opet povlađivanje

svom temperamentu? Još se tome pojavio i

onaj trenutak kad je slabost vrlo lako169

Sead Mahmutefendić

mogla preći u vrlinu, a grijeh se

prikazati kao žrtveni čin. U takvom

slučaju mogao je u ove predškolske sate

slobodno, mirno i staloženo preispitati

o onome što stoji pred njim i više ne

dovoditi sebe u neugodne sumnje je li

ispravno ono o čemu on misli i osjeća.

Nekolicina nastavnika, što je s

njim zajedno radila, nije dijelila te

njegove dvojbe i bojazan. Naprotiv, već

prvi dan, nakon što se iz pristojnosti

srdačno pozdraviše hinjeći veselost zbog

ponovnog viđenja, moglo se jasno opaziti

njihovo zadovoljstvo što su ponovno na

svojim radnim mjestima profesora.

Zaboga, tek ovdje, oni s tim titulama

nešto znače. Tamo, na nekim plažama,

bili su bezimeni i beznačajni, bez

170

Suze Dauta Arfadžana novaca, a ovdje oni nešto znače jer ih

znaju, ljubazni su prema njima i boje ih

se. Najzad, zar se njegova sudbina

toliko razlikovala od njihovih?

Što se tiče bavljenja pisanjem,

Daut mu se još nije posvećivao onoliko

koliko je osjećao da će mu se jednog

lijepog dana sav predati - i dušom i

tijelom. Muku s riječima ostavio je za

neku budućnost. Oduvijek je u to bio

siguran, samo što se ta želja s njegovim

godinama stalno pomjerala, te je on,

ponekad, ozbiljno pomišljao da je

konačno sazrilo vrijeme da se već jednom

uhvati s njom i sav uroni u nju. Koliko

je bio spreman udovoljiti tim

zahtjevima, u dobroj mjeri zavisilo je

od njegove spremnosti da u izvjesnom

smislu preispita svoje sposobnosti. Da171

Sead Mahmutefendić

bi izbjegao ta neugodna pitanja i

sučeljavanja sa samim sobom, u njemu je

do punog izražaja dolazio njegov smisao

za komiku i izrugivanjem na vlastiti

račun, koje je najčešće raslo do

neurotičnog nadrealizma, što se potpuno

pokazalo jedne večeri pred kolegama iz

škole u njegovom iznajmljenom

podstanarskom stančiću. Ta njegova

požuda za smijehom dovodila je ostale u

delirij do suza, ozbiljno prijeteći da

nekom ne rasprsne dijafragmu, mada se

njihova suhoparna i uboga duša nije

mogla obraniti od nekih izvjesnih

njegovih nedoličnih istrčavanja za

vrijeme tog veselja, koje je ipak, u

krajnjoj mjeri, oslobađalo sva ta bića

napetosti i obzira.

172

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

4.

Sujeverno se čuvao Daut da ne

prebrojava ispisane stranice koje je

noćas nakupio, te je sad, rasterećen

sinoćne grozničavosti, ležao opružen na

krevetu i buljio u jednu točku na

stropu, te netremice je promatrao

pokušavajući u njoj pronaći nešto

neobično. Ta mala, obična rupa izgledala

mu je kao da se kreće širokim, bijelim

prostranstvom. Poče mu se sviđati ova

igra očiju i stropa.

Sada je držao točnom svoju raniju

predpostavku da uspješnog pjesnika može

173

Sead Mahmutefendić

tražiti u sebi jedino pod uvjetom da

uzbudljivo učestvuje u životu i pri tom

da sebe troši neštedimice, a ne da

godinama miruje i čeka da se nešto samo

od sebe dogodi. Znao je on dobro da se

mora njegov duh pošteno nečeg

prihvatiti, a ne da bludi i pluta od

jedne do druge ideje, pa da ih, potom,

sve zajedno - prije ili kasnije -

odbaci ili zanemari prije nego što je

osjetio njihovu privlačnost i svoju

snagu. Riječ “ljepota” u njemu je

oduvijek budila odvratnost, te bi on, u

nedostatku da pronađe valjano

objašnjenje takvom osjećaju, pocrvenio i

okrenuo se u stranu. Neugodno, a

istodobno i dirljivo mu je bilo što mora

dokazivati samom sebi, te u neku ruku i

174

Suze Dauta Arfadžana ispričavati se pred svojom savješću,

pred takvim praznim i blijedim

rješenjem. Plemenitost i velikodušnost

su oduvijek morali biti na prvom mjestu

- ovako bi on postavljao stvar odmah na

početku - ali zašto onda zlo ima toliku

djelotvornu i zastrašujuću moć?

Prolaznost i kazna su tu da se nađu kao

utjeha žrtvi za njegovu patnju. Činilo

mu se da je to još otprije sve unaprijed

bilo nakrivo posađeno, te da je ljudski

rod još davno, na početku svoje

predpovijesti, lažno i licemjerno upleo

i ono što čovjek nije, niti nema, niti

može imati - mozga i srca u isto

vrijeme. Samim tim, nešto zbog tromosti

duha, a nešto zbog požude, kojom je u

svom temperamentu olako i brzo prihvatao

stvari, on je jednostavno zaključio da175

Sead Mahmutefendić

na život valja gledati kao što to čini i

svaka srednjevjekovna hagiografija: ovaj

svijet je mjesto po kome vršlja Sotona,

a sveci su iznajmljeni samo radi toga da

se lijepo vidi koliko zla mora podnijeti

čovjek-patnik. Čija će to biti konačna

pobjeda? Onog koji je svijet stvorio i

nametnuo mu lice i volju svoju ili onog

koji se protiv svog Stvoritelja pobunio,

ili pak da ostane vječna zagonetka kao

što je to i oduvijek bila te će i odsad

i zanavijek to biti? A ti, čovječe,

rješavaj je i vječno lupaj glavom - tko

si?

Jednog rominjavog predvečerja,

koncem prosinca, netko je kratko

pozvonio na ulaznim vratima, a potom,

čineći kratke stanke, ponovio to

176

Suze Dauta Arfadžana nekoliko puta. Daut se upita tko bi to

mogao biti u ovo doba. Nitko mu od

poznatih nije ovih dana najavljivao

mogućnost da će ga doći posjetiti u

njegovom stanu. Ta nema sumnje da je to

netko kojeg zasigurno dobro poznaje,

jer, u suprotnom, ne bi se mogla

zamisliti takva drskost da zvonjava

postaje bješnja i učestalija.

On pođe ka vratima koja su bila

nezaključana. Prihvati za kvaku i širom

ih otvori. U isti mah kad on to uradi,

ugasi se svjetlo na stubištu. U

polumraku on ugleda dvoje nacerenih

ljudi, koji su stajali na pragu, a

između njihovih glava, iza njih, ugleda

nepoznatu djevojku. Ono malo svjetlosti

što je dopiralo iz predsoblja bilo je

dovoljno da preopozna ono dvoje naprijed177

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Dragu Sforcana, kolegu s posla i

njegovu djevojku Vandu. Muškarac po

vojnički lupnu cipelom o cipelu.

Partizanski stisnutu šaku bješe

pritisnuo uz sljepoočnicu. Vanda se još

jednom zakikota hrapavim glasom, načetim

od vinjaka i pušenja, ali se ipak sjeti

svog starog i oprobanog štosa da se

ispriča što mu smetaju u ovo doba noći.

Možda je radio pa su ga prekinuli? Ako

je u poslu, nema problema, oni će odmah

otići. Samo su došli da ga vide. Sjetili

su ga se, te mimo reda i čaršijskog

običaja odlučili da mu dođu smetati, a

njegovo je da ih otjera zbog čega se oni

neće ni najmanje naljutiti, ili, pak,

ako nisu u pravu, neka se već jednom

178

Suze Dauta Arfadžana skloni s tih vrata i primi ih dok se svi

nisu posmrzavali.

“Iskrenost je majka

prijateljstva” - završi Vanda.

Opet kake brabonjke, pomisli

Daut.

- Dovodimo ti jednu personu da je

upoznamo s Tvojom Ekselencijom - reče

Vanda. - Da ne kažeš da ne mislimo na

tebe. Nismo mi jagnjožderi i

šljokadžije. Ovo će biti tvoja rasa.

Osjećao je Daut zlobu u njenom

glasu. Tko ne zna Vandu? Dugo je ona

bila njegova djevojka, predugo da bi je

površno poznavao. Pitanje je bilo kad će

se njih dvoje napokon vjenčati. Zašto je

pukla tikva, to nikad nitko nije uspio

179

Sead Mahmutefendić

saznati, niti su oni ikom htjeli

povjeriti.

- Neslaganje naravi - zaključio

je u šah-sali brico Škico.

- Mi se još jednom izvinjavamo

ako smo te prekinuli - reče Vanda. -

Htjeli smo ovu noć podijeliti s tobom.

Mi smo, koju čašicu više... Ti si uvijek

bio stari drugar.

- Drugarčina! - ispravi je

dvosmisleno Daut.

- A ako ih njihov drugarčina,

boemčina i piščina, budući naš laureat

Nobela izbaci, to ne znači da oni ne

priliče njegovom društvu i tu nema ko da

se ljuti - upade Drago. - A njima je

najmanje stalo da njega naljute i to na

njegovom terenu, jer stan je, dobro

180

Suze Dauta Arfadžana slušaj Vanda, po ustavu, nepovrediv i

neprikosnoven.

- Ulazite već jednom - pozva ih

Daut unutra.

Drago izvadi litrenjak iz džepa.

Najprije zabi Vandi grlić boce u rilo, a

onda tim istim grlićem ponudi Dauta:

“Ako ti se ne gadi Vandin ruž”.

- Živjela Nobelova nagrada! -

naceri se Vanda nakon što otpi dobar

gutljaj.

Taj čas ih Daut uhvati oboje za

ruku, te ih povuče za sobom u

predsoblje. Tek je sad mogao bolje

vidjeti onu djevojku što je svo vrijeme

šutila iza njih. U prvi mah, učini mu se

da ne bi mogla imati više od dvadeset,

dvadesetjedne-dvadesetdvije godine.

181

Sead Mahmutefendić

Kad se svo četvero nađoše u

predsoblju, Daut zatvori za njima vrata,

škiljnuvši prije toga očima po stubištu

da ih tko nije prisluškivao. Susjeda s

gornjeg kata, uhvaćena između željeznih

šipki, klisnu s kantom prema kanalu da

prospe smeće.

Najzad se i Drago iskobelja iz

Vandinih ruku da Dautu predstavi

nepoznatu djevojku. Mrseći i gutajući po

nekoliko suglasnika u jedan, reče

hrapavim glasom, da na svu sreću nije

nikad bio nikakav kavaljer i da ne

vjeruje da će mu to poći za rukom ovaj

put, pa će mu, stoga, po seljački reći

da zna kako će djevojku zvati, da se

dotična persona odaziva na ime Milena.

182

Suze Dauta Arfadžana Ostalo nije važno. To će već biti njegov

problem.

Mada se oduvijek nesvjesno

pribojavao isticati svoju momačku čast,

Daut nije mogao a da se ne potrudi

ostaviti utisak na nepoznatu, koju, eto,

prvi put vidi u životu. Kad god je

mogao, izbjegavao je prilike sebe

dovesti u takvo iskušenje. No ako bi se

to već dogodilo, kao što je to bio sad

slučaj, on nije mogao a da ne bude

nepovjerljiv, što je ponekad znalo preći

u bolesnu i umišljenu sumnju, osobito

ako se pred njim nalazila nježna i

smjerna, poetski osjenčene i lirske

fizionomije, te sanjarskih očiju ona za

kojom je vječno žudio njegov duh.

183

Sead Mahmutefendić

Dogodilo se i to da baš u tom

trenutku doživi gadnu sramotu pred sobom

i gostima i da učini ono što izazva

njihov glasan i neobuzdan smijeh. Zbog

toga se pretjerano razbjesnio na svoju

neopreznost i na ovu zlobnu lajavicu i

ženturaču Vandu, koja prva zamjeti da

tu nešto smrdi i da tu nije baš čist

zrak. U pitanju je grah ili kelj. Ne bi

se moglo točno odrediti.

On zausti nečim peckavim joj

vratiti, ali se na vrijeme zaustavi i to

najviše zbog toga što je bila u njegovom

stanu, pa bi to bilo prilično

nedomaćinski od njega.

Samo što obuzda bijes, osjeti se

potištenim.

184

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Tijekom večeri, morat ću joj

vratiti lopticu. Ili - neću! nije mi

valjda još do nje stalo! Ona to i čeka i

sve to radi da bi dočekala taj trenutak

njegove slabosti kako bi osjetila da mu

je povrijedila bolno mjesto. Je li i ova

tu žena njena zamka? Koliko poznajem

žene, bilo bi to priličito nelogično.

Vanda ga još neko vrijeme

zadirkivala. Podsmijavala mu se sve dok

tu njenu pijanu i živčanu

praznorječivost nije prekinuo Drago,

ukorivši je ozbiljno da ne bi valjalo

zlorabiti Dautovu naklonost prema njoj,

te da je njegovo strpljenje vjerojatno

tanje od njene nasrtljivosti.

- Odlijepi se već jednom od

čovjeka! Pa što ako je prno? Ti prdiš

185

Sead Mahmutefendić

stalno, a ako bi nekom stalo da broji

tvoje štucanje večeras, vjerojem da bi

se tu i digitron pokvario.

- Vaško jedna, nisam nijednom.

Kad sam to? - okrenu se bijesno Vanda ka

njemu.

- Ti to izvedeš pianissimo - reče

Drago. - Stisneš bulju i pustiš vjetar.

Tako se, draga moja, ne bi čuli ni

tajfuni.

- Kako ti to činiš? - obrecnu se

ona.

- Ja mogu požar ugasiti - reče

on.

- Ili ga razgoriti - sasvim

iznenada napravi Milena upadicu.

U svu tu pretjeranu i djetinjastu

obazrivost, Daut je znao ponekad unijeti 186

Suze Dauta Arfadžana i priličito zlobe, te razorne i

neobuzdane parodije, što je na prisutne

obično ostavljalo utisak napuhane

zajedljivosti i neotesanosti, a njih bi

njegove jetke i satirične primjedbe

ponajčešće stavljalo u inferioran

položaj i dovodilo do zbunjenosti da bi

jednostavno isti čas ušutili, nakon što

bi počeo njegov neobuzdani monolog,

grlat i sonoran, gdje bi u prvi plan

dolazio njegov pjevljivo plačljiv

južnohercegovački dijalekat. Izuzetak bi

bio jedino - slučaj - da ga je

potištenost toliko zgrabila i osvojila

da nije imao više volje ikoga u tom svom

jadu i čamotinji nadvisiti i zakačiti,

niti načina nekome doskočiti, te bi tu

stvar, jednostavno, ostavljao po strani,

držeći da ne zavređuje niti trunku187

Sead Mahmutefendić

pozornosti, a ponajmanje da bi se trudio

za nju tražiti kakvu duhovitu riječ.

Zbog toga, on ni ovaj put ne udostoji

Vandu svog pogleda, hineći da ga se

njena maliciozna primjedba nije ni

najmanje dojmila. Znao je on, i to dobro

znao, da to njoj nije mogao ničim

umješno odglumiti, jer je ona njegovu

šutnju upoznala kao njegovu zbunjenost,

inače bi on već pronašao kakav zgodan

kontradrajf vratiti joj lopticu. Ovaj

put je mogao samo ono dvoje drugih

blefirati.

Da bi pokazao svoju velikodušnost

prema Vandi, mada ga je ona svo vrijeme

silno živcirala svojim izazovnim

pogledom, on je propusti da prođe u sobu

za dnevni boravak. Kad bješe mimo njega,

188

Suze Dauta Arfadžana ona se na trenutak zaustavi, ali on

makinalno zakrenu glavu u stranu.

Skoro ga nije zanimala ni Milena.

Vjerojatno je tome bio razlog što već

bješe umislio kako bi ona mogla biti

Vandina zamka, pa prema tome i njena

buduća osveta. U Draginu umješanost i

njegove nečasne nakane oko te

eventualnosti nije niti sumnjao. Na taj

sumnjičavi oprez najviše ga je natjerala

maloprijašnja Vandina indiskretnost.

Zato je istog trenutka čvrsto odlučio u

sebi biti strpljiv s gostima, da večeras

priča što manje i da ih sve zajedno drži

na distanci.

Osvetit ću se ja tebi, gledao je on

u Vandinu zadnjicu.

189

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Milena je moja rodica po

majčinoj liniji - reče Vanda zavalivši

se ponovno u fotelju. - Samo toliko

daleko da me njena porodica ne bi mogla

prokleti ako mi je neko zdrpi ispred

očiju.

Osvetiću se ja tebi, kezila se

Vanda na Dauta.

On žmirnu. Vidje da Vanda nešto

Mileni pripovijeda. Ne smije on ovako

umišljati jer bi se moglo dogoditi da

počne sam sa sobom pričati.

Veći dio vremena govorio je Drago

sam a dvije žene su mu, pokatkad, kratko

i ležerno, upadale u riječ. Vanda se i

dalje pijano cerila i svako toliko

dolijevala do vrha vinjak u staklene

čašice. Pri tom je tvrdoglavo i uporno,

190

Suze Dauta Arfadžana do prave napasti, nutkala Dauta i molila

ga da ispije na dušak.

Oko Milene se nije osobito trudila.

Dragu nije morala ni moliti, jer je on

cijelo vrijeme bez prestanka brbljao,

cijedio glas iz svog umornog i hrapavog

grla, te po svaku cijenu nastojao

društvo nasmijavati i uveseljavati.

Uzbuđen prekomjernim alkoholom, govorio

je zacrvenjelih obraza i zacakljenih

očiju, pomalo grozničavo. Njegove riječi

nisu tekle tako neprekidno, već ih je

nabacivao, ali ipak sa toliko osjećaja

da je Daut morao, za sebe, ustanoviti

kako ga nikad ranije nije slušao da tako

rječito izlazi iz samoga sebe.

Kao uzgred, Daut zamjeti da ne

vjeruje kako čovjek može biti sretan u

191

Sead Mahmutefendić

Božjem daru na koji je bez svoje volje

primljen. Doda još i to da gdje nema

čovjekove volje, tu nema ni slobode.

- Ali drugi su za njega odlučili

- zamjeti Drago.

- Drugi su drugi - odgovori Daut.

- Čovjek nije drugi pa makar to

predpostavljalo i istorodnu krv.

Na to će Drago: “Rado ću priznati

da se slažem s tobom ukoliko pod drugim

ne predpostavljaš toplinu i dubinu

osjećanja, razumijevanje i opraštanje,

što u onom drugom čovjeku izaziva

podozrivost, te vremenom u njemu formira

isuviše nedruštven karakter. Ali ako tim

istim čovjekom - predpostavljam tobom -

čim si onako zgodno i vješto uspostavio

onakvu korelaciju, stalno vlada i guši

192

Suze Dauta Arfadžana ga taština, koja nije ništa drugo već

surogat paranoje, a koju on, usput

rečeno, krivo drži za ponos i ugled,

tada ta ista individua, persona - kako

ti voliš reći - mogla bi se malo

potruditi da ne bude uvijek spremna da

se baš u zlu pokaže. Uzimam za sebe

slobodu da primijetim kako nije u redu

često reagovati na ono što čovjek čuje

od drugih, jer to ne dolikuje renomeu

pjesnika, što bi svakako htio biti i što

smatram izvjesnim da ti imaš u sebi, ali

nije nećeš nikad prečistiti ako ne

istjeraš iz sebe primisao da ćeš sa

stihom izbaviti bijede drugih. Ne

dozvoli da te zatruje duhovna sirotinja

i pustoš drugih, kao ni da te zavedu ni

potčine njihovi pojmovi. Međutim, moram

se osloboditi jednog pogrešnog193

Sead Mahmutefendić

vaspitanja koje je zasnovano na

nekritičkom čitanju petparačkih

životopisa velikih ljudi, što je kod

tebe izazivalo i danas izaziva takvu

konfuziju koja će te vremenom dovesti do

takvih grozničavih stanja, te i dalje

izazivati u tebi mnoge nedoumice. Zato

ti dajem jednu neromantičnu preporuku:

treba se vratiti ljudima, jer toj silnoj

publici treba biti upućena tvoja

poezija.

Ovo zadnje izgovorio je u jednom

dahu i s takvim zanosom da su za

trenutak sve troje prisutnih sasvim

utihnuli pa je i sama Vanda, zanesena

njegovim monologom, držala neko vrijeme

ispražnjenu bocu nad napunjenom čašom.

194

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Izgleda da je i Drago bio ponešto

očaran onim što je maloprije izgovorio.

Vidjelo se to po njegovim zakrvavljenim

očima, punim sitnih crvenih kapilara,

svečanom i metalnom glasu, kojim je

Vandi stavio otvorenu primjedbu da već

jednom prestane koketirati s tom

prokletom bocom, već da konačno saspe

taj ostatak od nekoliko kapi iz te

bocetine, a ne da bulji u njega tako

bedasto i teleći kad ništa od svega ovog

ne razumije, već ih drži za obične

gluposti.

- Sreća je biti tako plitak -

reče on. - Takvim je najlakše podnositi

življenje. Mišljenje je, draga moja,

veoma težak posao, zato se veliki broj

ljudi ne voli njime ni baviti.

195

Sead Mahmutefendić

On je pokuša dohvatiti rukom, ali

ga ona bijesno odbi, dureći se na njega.

Znao je on dobro da to nju ne može

držati više od pet minuta, te mu je to

bio najjači razlog pred sobom, sestrom i

majkom, da nikad nije ni pomišljao

ostaviti ili napustiti Vandu. Znao je on

i za njezinu raniju vezu s Dautom. Nikad

je nije upitao zašto su njih dvoje

raskinuli i tko je tome kriv. A ona,

sita pustolovina, znala je to i te kako

poštivati i držati. Ovaj put je bila

nešto povrijeđena, pa je ni društvo oko

nje nije moglo spriječiti da suzdrži

svoj bijes: “Ti si, Drago stvarno prost.

Ovo ti moram otvoreno reći” - kaza ona.

“Evo ovako pred Dautom i Milenom, što

196

Suze Dauta Arfadžana jest - jest! Stvarno si prevršio svaku

mjeru”.

- Tačno. Prevršila Dara mjeru -

potvrdi Drago.

Vanda pomisli da doda i usputnu

ispriku, ali joj se učini da bi je to

još više unizilo pred društvom. Stoga

ona reče: “Stvarno ka’ ti kažem.”

Drago ju je pijano gledao u oči.

Osjećao je strahovit umor od današnjeg

dana. Bilo mu je žao što ju je doveo

dovdje ovakvim svojim nepriličitim

ispadom, ali ga je pijanstvo i

omamljenost tjeralo da to čini i dalje.

Vanda, zbunjena, ovom njegovom

šutnjom protumači to na sasvim suprotan

način, te opet po drugi put ponovi:

“Stvarno ka’ ti kažem.” Ti znaš mene,

197

Sead Mahmutefendić

ja se naljutim samo kad se mjera

prevrši”.

- Čuješ - pokušavao je Drago

ostati mirnim. On nervozno poče otezati

samoglasnike. - Nemoj me tako slušati,

zauvijek to jednom zapamti.

To je svjesno i umješno činio da ne

bi pomrsio glasove i da ne dovede sebe

pred društvom u situaciju da bunca. Tek

će sad poludjeti kad bi mu netko, makar

u šali, predložio da ne bi bilo loše za

večeras prestati i dozvoliti da još osim

njega izusti koju riječ.

I pored svega, u glasu mu je

treperila maloprijašnja uzbuđenost.

- Tako se ni u Akademiji nauka ne

sluša. Kako si ti mene maloprije

198

Suze Dauta Arfadžana slušala. Ti si malo pobrkala pojmove o

mjestu gdje se nalaziš.

- E ovo, Drago, sad prelazi svaku

mjeru reče ona.

Sad se činilo da se stvarno

uvrijedila.

- Pa kad ti velim - reče on nešto

obazrivije - Hajde reci, šta sam

maloprije srao ovom tu čovjeku? Izvoli,

mikrofon je tvoj.

- Ti si, Drago, večeras... znaš

već šta. Stvarno si prešao svaku mjeru,

sve granice - reče ona falsirajući

glasom, skoro na rubu plača i bolne

uvrijeđenosti, tako da se činilo da će

svaki čas zaridati.

- Uzmi ti, stara moja, jednu bocu

iz Dautovog buffeta, pa ti nama nalij da

199

Sead Mahmutefendić

mi nazdravimo što mi imamo jedno drugo -

pun samosažaljenja on pokuša izbjeći

neugodnu situaciju pred Dautom i

Milenom. U sebi je kleo piće koje ga

uvijek dovede da bude nervozno i

perverzno arogantan.

- Toči sam - kratko mu ona

odbrusi.

- Nitko to ne zna ženeroznije od

tebe to učiniti - pruži on ruku prema

njoj.

- Sprdaj se ti s drugim a ne

samnom - ljutnu se ona. - Znaš li ti da

se ja sva osprem slušajući kako se ti

silno razbacuješ svojom lijevom

filozofijom i tim stranim riječima da

čovjeku naprosto dođe želja da sve

povrati.

200

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Znači da ti ne idem baš sto

posto na živce dok moraš zabijati prst u

rilo da povratiš - reče on s ironijom. -

Onim ostatkom riganja slušaš me kao da

pratiš neku pristojnu besjedu u

Akademiji nauka.

- Odvratan si - reče ona. - Sad

mi se stvarno povraća.

- Izvoli povrtaćati, šta čekaš? -

viknu on muklim glasom do tenora.- Ja ti

žalim suze. Hoću ti skrenuti pažnju da

već jednom prestaneš koketirati i

postaneš prirodna, te da ne glumiš

zanimanje za stvari do kojih ti je stalo

kao meni do Bijenala ozbiljne glazbe u

Zagrebu. Razotkrivanje tvoje glume

dovodi te do vulkanskog bijesa. Odakle

ti takva potreba da ti srce nikad ne

201

Sead Mahmutefendić

vidim na licu? Tad bi bila još ljepša i

ne bi bio siguran ustvrditi da me ne bi

pomalo hvatala ljubomora što si prije

mene možda nekom drugom pripadala.

Ovako, ostaje mi da vagam svoju i onog

drugog inteligenciju i da se ne bi smio

sa sigurnošću okladiti da sam pametniji

od njega. Sva tvoja sreća što ja nemam

takvu jednostavnost govora u načinu

izražavanja, već je u mojoj glavi sve

tolko nejasno, mutno, mistično i

komplikovano da nekad ni sam ne znam što

u stvari govorim. Zapetljam se. A

jednostavnost je odlika nedilemičnih

duhova, koji znaju da živjeti znači -

jesti, piti, tucati - uz strast i spokoj

da se iz toga neće ispiliti neki novi

čovjek. Ja ne živim, ja jednostavno sebi

202

Suze Dauta Arfadžana komplikujem život kojekakvim transce-

dentalnim glupim pitanjima: gdje? šta?

kuda? čemu? zbog čega? zašto? i sličnim

glupostima.

- Ti si stvarno noćas... -

umornim glasom prekide ga Vanda.

- U glasu joj se nije osjećala

strast polemizirati s njim oko sukoba

koji bješe maloprije iskrsnu između

njkih dvoje.

- Šta sam ja? - upita on. - Reci,

već jednim, šta sam ja? Ludak?

- Stvarno si večeras prevršio

svaku mjeru - reče ona. - Nas dvoje smo

načeli i drugu bocu.

- Evo ti zato šapa - pruži joj on

ruku. - Čim bi ti se mogao zakleti da se

apsolutno slažem s tobom. Tvoja

203

Sead Mahmutefendić

jednostavnost me je opet oborila na

plećke.

Kad bi ti tako ona stvar radila kao

što ti jezik radi, pomisli on na ono što

je predpostavljao da se ona ustručava

reći. “Reci! Reci slobodno!”

- Što da reknem? čudila se ona.

- Reci bar kolko ima sati? -

zavapi on.

- Ovo dvoje ljudi dosta su se

naslušali naše komedije - zamjeti on

nakon kraće stanke. - Sad je stvarno red

da se zastor spusti, da im se poklonimo

i da odemo s pozornice.

- To je rekao u jednom dahu,

poluglasno, teatralno, pomalo i s

oprezom, što mu se osjetilo u glasu koji

mu je nešto podrhtavao, osobito u 204

Suze Dauta Arfadžana trenutku dok je završavao posljednju

rečenicu.

A tad, Dautu i Mileni jedino

preostade zabrinuto motriti neće li

Vanda ostati zabrinuta na ove njegove

zadnje riječi ili će preći preko njegove

zajedljivosti, te mu prići i na kraju

predstave ponovno ga zagrliti,

shvaćajaću sve ovo kao bezlenu i

nezlonamjernu šalu. Daut je to znao još

bolje od nje. Dobro se on sjećao što mu

Vanda biješe rekla, davno, jednom

prilikom: “Potrebno je mnogo duha da bi

se lijepo pričalo i mnogo razuma da bi

se šutilo”.

Ipak se ne bi nimalo iznenadio kad

bi mu sad prišla i zagrlila ga poslije

svega ovog, i to pred njim. Ne bi to

205

Sead Mahmutefendić

shvatio kao njenu provokaciju. Godine i

bore na koži donose sa sobom kompromise.

to ne mora ni uraditi, ona je to već

pokazala u priličitoj mjeri.

Kakva je to nekad bila bjesna

mačka!

Ostatak večeri Daut je s usiljenom

društvenošću pokušavao iskazati živost,

šalu i veselje, a osjećao se, u stvari,

hladno i prljavo. Besumnje, smatrao se

manje-više sposobnim za tako nešto, mada

nije uvijek bio siguran da se može

pouzdati da ta njegova dobra volja za

glumom u njemu će izazvati umor od

napora, smješkanje, hladnu dosadu, te na

kraju preći u otvorenu apatiju i

mrzovolju. On je to činio da bi tobože

stvorio neki topliji ugođaj. u tome je

206

Suze Dauta Arfadžana bila sadržana dobra mjera pomanjkanja

njegova osjećaja za okolicu, čemu je bio

razlog što je većinom u takvim

slučajevima polazio od stanovišta da mu

drugi nisu dorasli duhom; zato su mu

dovoljan dokaz njihovi plitki i površni

razgovori. Stoga se on nije osjetio

zapostavljenim i povrijeđenim u

trenucima dok su Vanda i Drago vodili

onako besomunačn dijalog. Zašto bi se

morao upuštati u jednu takvu besplodnu

diskusiju, i to s Vandom, njegovom

starom ljubavi, koju su i on i ona već

davno prežalili i zaboravili. Sad je

imao preko puta stolića novu, mlađu,

puteniju žensku. Brbljanje ovo dvoje

izmoždenih papagaja mu je ovaj put dobro

došlo da prikrije svoju zbunjenost.

207

Sead Mahmutefendić

Takvom svom čudesnom i izvanrednom

raspoloženju on je pridavao svoj

plemenit osjećaj kojeg je potkrepljivao

svojom ljupkošću, što se na kraju moglo

sve vrlo lako pretvoriti u njegovu

zaljubljenost. Tako je nekad bilo i s

Vandom.

On, doduše, poče osjećati onaj

opasan početak potište-nosti i

izbačenosti, koji mu ne daju uklopiti se

u opće raspoloženje. To je u njemu još

više izazivalo i pojačavalo prezir prema

svima osim one kojoj se njegova duša već

bješe uputila.

Daut je pružio ruku da uzme

cigaretu iz načete paklice, iako će biti

već dvije godine kako je prestao pušiti.

To je moralo kod Vande i Drage izazvati

208

Suze Dauta Arfadžana najprije iznenađenje, pa onda

podozrivost, ali su oni tu očitu

činjenicu jednostavno prešutjeli bez

ikakve primjedbe, držeći da bi to pred

Milenom bilo možda neumjesno i

netaktično. Tu njihovu uviđavnost Daut

bješe previdio, a nije je ni mogao

uočiti jer su njegove oči nezdravo i

pohotno sjajile tako da su bile pune

suza. On je bio sad dalek sad ovo dvoma

ljudima i - nekako - pun neke hladne

tuge, tako da se na njih oboje dojmila

njegova neprijazna rasijanost. Stoga oni

prešutno odlučiše da ga peckanjem ne

povrijede.

Manirom raskalašnih i uviđavnih

ljudi, njih dvoje, odmah nakon one svađe

i brza pomirenja, nađoše nekog posla,

najprije u kuhinji - da tobože traže209

Sead Mahmutefendić

neke skrivene Dautove kolače ili pršut -

a potom u spavaćoj sobi ne bi li

pronašli u njegovoj knjižnici neku dobru

stvar čime bi i oni nahranili svoj

mozak.

U drugim prilikama takve upadice

činile bi mu se umjesnim i čak su mu

draškale zakorovljenu altruističku

taštinu. Ovaj put on osjeti, u ovoj

njihovoj iznenadnoj i sladunjavoj gesti,

zamku što mu se učini provodažijskim i

podvodačkim, a nada sve - podlačkim.

Mada mu se to uvjerenje ocrta u

polusvjesti, ipak se nije mogao ophrvati

činjenici da je ostao sam sa ženskom

koja je sve to previdjela, pri tom

zadržavajući onaj uvijek jedan te isti,

nevini, anđeoski izraz na licu, te

210

Suze Dauta Arfadžana ostala nijema i mirna s onom istom

bljedolikošću na mršavoj glavi iznad

koje je, po njegovu ironičnom sudu, još

jedino nedostajal svetačka aureola.

Koliko je Dauta golicala njena

blizina, toliko ga je izazivao na pomamu

predosjećaj njegove skorašnje indiskre-

cije, pa čak i grešnosti na koju je već

u tim trencima pomišljao. To ga je

istodobno čas umirivalo, čas razdra-

živalo dotle da je svaki čas morao

protezati ruku ili nogu. Jer - konačno -

njih dvoje su sami. Zna on dobro da se

za Vandu i Dragu ne može sa sigurnošću

tvrditi da imaju strpljenja listati po

knjigama, a kamo li ih čitati. Zato mu

se njihova tobožnja, neumješna himba za

kolače i pršut učini providnom i

izlišnom što kod njega, ubrzo, izazva211

Sead Mahmutefendić

otvoreno, grčevito, koprcavo, podozrivo

uzbuđenje. Besumnje da su pri tom osobni

razlozi odigrali značajnu ulogu i da su

bili jači od duhovnih. Kao takve, on ih

je sve više osjećao i naslućivao. Jedino

mu nije bilo jasno da li bi se tu negdje

moglo govoriti o izvjesnoj odanosti

glave prema srcu. On je morao prvi da

joj se javi, jer - na kraju - ona je

prva došla k njemu.

5.

Milena je bila koštunjava, te se

doimala, otprilike, bar sedam-osam

godina mlađom od Dauta. Glas joj je bio

tugaljiv, a rečenicu je najčešće

počinjala rezigniranim: “Hm.” Na

pitanje: Kako ste vi, gospođice?”,

212

Suze Dauta Arfadžana odgovarala je: “Hm.” i sa dvosmislenim

smješkom otklanjala glavom u stranu.

To se njemu ponešto činilo drskim,

ali je ipak nalazio zadovoljstva da

uživa u njenom promuklom i dubokom

glasu. Ona mu nije davala bogzna kakve

prilike da je sluša dugo; ona je više

voljela da on priča ili pita, pa bi na

svako njegovo pitanje odgovarala što je

moguće kraće, potpuno se kloneći

replika. Nekoliko škrto iscijeđenih

riječi izustila bi kroz usne, koje je

nerado pomicala što je on, bez razmi-

šljanja, prosto sebi tumačio kao njeno

mazno koketiranje. Što više, on se

osjeti pomalo i ganutim zbog te svoje

uviđajnosti, koju je oduvijek držao više

za intuitivnu nego za racionalnu. Logika

i matematika ga nisu nikad osobito213

Sead Mahmutefendić

zanimale, te je njima konstantno i

uporno suprotstavljao intuiciju i

fantaziju.

Koketa ili ne - nije važno. Na njoj

je sve dražesno: i glas i riječi, te

odmjereni i raspoređeni intervali u

kojima ih ona smjerno izgovara. njenu

pojavu je sjenčilo sjetno raspoloženje,

koje joj je kod duhova Dautovog tipa

moglo donijeti samo naklonost i

povjerenje. Hoće li ona pogrešno

shvatiti to što mu se glava doista

toliko crvenila kad se on zajedno s njom

toliko smijao nekim svojim usiljenim

vicevima i šalama, koje se mogu još naći

samo po provincijalnim ili tvorničkim

listuljcima na temu seksa.

214

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Izgleda da je on prenaglio ili je

ona na vrijeme shvatila da mora staviti

brklju na njegove pomalo smione

insinuacije. Ni za trenutak nije sebi

dozvoljavala da se zaboravi i da pokvari

utisak koji je stekla svojom čednom i

svetačkom fizionomijom. Ona se u jednom

trenutku čak usudi suprotstaviti mu se

na njegovu nonšalantnost ophođenja i da

ga pri tom blago prekori, upućujući mu

moralnu primjedbu: “Nećete se valjda

zbog toga naljutiti na mene?” - reče

iznenađeni Daut. “Ja sam spreman na

koljenima moliti od vas za oproštaj.”

- Hm - isfrflja ona.

To nije mogao sebi drugačije

objasniti nego kao trenutak da njoj

prepusti inicijativu, te da on odsad

215

Sead Mahmutefendić

promatra nju iz sigurne zasjede. Time

joj je sasvim jasno dao do znanja što je

naglo ušutio, koliko-toliko hinjeći

tobožnju uvrijeđenost.

Sa ženskim rodom se ne isplati

spontanost, pomisli on, mada žene na

njoj vječno inzistiraju. Njih treba

ignorirati ili im jasno dati do znanja

što hoćeš od njih. Njihova taktika, kao

kod svih prosječnih ženskaroša, lebdjela

je neodlučno na polovici - uvijek

između straha i stida da bude odbijen i

pritajene mržnje zbog toga što je

fiziologija dovela u ovakav bijedan

položaj.

No, pošto se to nije moglo ovdje

javno hvaliti i kori-ti, on je to mogao

samo zapaziti i ustvrditi kao činjenicu,

216

Suze Dauta Arfadžana jer - na kraju - ipak je živo u strepnji

da ga ne napusti živ i lukav duh, kao ni

nadahnuće, mada je na ovo prvo imao u

jednoj svojoj zapisanoj bilješci

ozbiljnu primjedbu da je tobožnja

društvenost najčešće rezultat čovjekovog

egoizma, odnosno njegovog straha od

samoće, te neznanja i nemoći da se bude

prijatelj samom sebi. Jeste, to je on

zapisao jedne besane noći, kad mu se

činilo da mu je sve postalo jasno na

ovom ringišpilu što se zove život.

Jedino je istina da on od svega toga

osjeća silnu vrtoglavicu i htio bi,

silno bi htio da se vrtnja zaustavi i da

siđe na zemlju, poljubi je i da čvrsto

stoji na njoj.

Ispod one bilješke je dopisao sebi

pitanje na koje nije ni pokušao217

Sead Mahmutefendić

odgovoriti: “Zašto se ljudi toliko

opterećuju osjećajem krivice kad im ona

nije u stanju spriječiti nji-hovu želju

ili prepuštenost grijehu?” Samo je u

jednoj reče-nici, nekoliko redaka dalje,

pokušao to objasniti, doduše s prilično

cinizma, da misli kako je to izvor

zloglasne kršćanske pakosti i

bezdušnosti. S izvjesnom dozom zlobe, te

razorne i neobuzdane travestije, obično

je ostavljao zanosan utisak na prisutne.

Ta njegova potreba za uveličavanjem,

iskrivljavanjem i dodavanjem za njega je

značila izbjegava-nje ozbiljnog i

jalovog suočavanja sa samim sobom i

spasenju čamotnih i jalovih duhova oko

sebe, kojim se odlikovao najveći broj

razgovora njihovih poznanika. U takvoj

218

Suze Dauta Arfadžana situaci-ji niti je mogao šutiti s

ljubaznom maskom na licu, niti se mogao

ozbiljno predati onim stvarima koje su

ga, zapravo, istinski okupirale. Stoga

je već unaprijed preuzimao opasnu

odgovornost da razara oko sebe

smrtonosno dosadne i malogra-đanski

površne i banalne diskusije, koje se

nisu kretale da-lje od maštanja o seksu,

alkoholu, autu, novcu, te najpri-

mitivnijeg dovijanja da se do nje dođe.

On se ubacivao na ta njihova minska

polja. S manijačkom energijom, koja je

najčešće završavala njegovom totalnom

iscrpljenošću i ispražnjenošću,

samoubilački se bacao na ta mjesta,

sijao zaraznu ironiju i apsurd, te

dovodio atmosferu i uzbuđenje do

usijanja. Sve - i sebe i ostale, cijeli219

Sead Mahmutefendić

svijet - iz perspektive kavanskog stola

ili sobička u njegovom podstanarskom

stančiću, pretvarao je u užasnu i

totalnu iskrivljenu sliku. Sve je u njoj

bilo tako prepozna-tljivo, a ljudi su

bili još gluplji i smješniji, ali manje

opasni i nekako bezazleniji.

Svaki od tih polupijanih, sad već

nezlonamjernih sluša-laca, banalno je

prevodio njegove sve bješnje

asocijacije. Sve ovo zajedno, opasno je

ugrožavalo njegov mir, dosto-janstvo

pred sobom i - naravno - talenat, kojeg

je on više želio pokazati na papiru nego

u kozeriji pred ovim nedo-ličnim

društvom.

Već duže vremena nije napisao niti

jednog retka. Jer, nakon takvih njegovih

220

Suze Dauta Arfadžana vulkanskih navala duha, on bi se dani-ma

osjećao potištenim i fizički slomljenim.

Tad bi izbjega-vao sve ono što nosi

obavezu na osmješak, predusretljivost

ili ogovaranje. Zazirao je i gadio se

svakog život, i dugo vremena bi mu

trebalo da se sredi, dođe k sebi i da se

dove-de u nekadašnji mir i

samonaklonost.

Nešto zbog činjenice što više nije

bio u kondicij, a nešto i zbog stida,

kojeg je on samom sebi kao kaznu name-

tao, on je s osmješkom tumačio tu

osobinu bogumilskim genima u sebi.

Poznanici su ga i dalje držali za

šaljiva i zanimljiva zabavljača, kojeg -

eto provincija ne zna uočiti i iskori-

stiti, već ga guta i pretvara u “jadu s

221

Sead Mahmutefendić

dnevnikom”, te je samo pitanje dana kad

će ga učenici početi povlačiti za ru-kav

ili bacati čičke na njega.

Da nije bio u zanosu, Daut je lako

mogao uočiti za čime su oni težili.

On najednom skrenu razgovor na

područje umjetnosti. Čim on to

nagovijesti prvom rečenicom, Milena

stade kimati glavom ne zaboravljajući

pri tom, uz romantični i lažno za-neseni

osmješak, povremeno stiskati kapke, koji

bi joj trebali zasjenjavati oči. Došavši

konačno na svoju omiljenu temu, on se

potpuno, zaboravljajući na svaki oprez i

predostrožnost da ne gnjavi, prepusti

onom ozbiljnom tonu od kojeg je, inače,

u trijeznim trenucima toliko zazirao,

već je sve ležerno prepuštao lakrdiji i

222

Suze Dauta Arfadžana smijehu. Raspričao se on njoj o svim

piscima, njihovim djelima, njihovim

poeti-kama, kao i svojim

egzistencijalnim, bez ikakva zazora i

opreza, držeći njenu fizionomiju za

istinski refleks njene duše, a nju, kao

još jedno biće s kojim se njegov duh

može susresti ne samo u svemiru, već na

ovoj tvrdoj zemlji, i u sreći uživati u

takvu Božjem daru.

Sam ju je Bog poslao, pomisli.

Još isti čas osjeti kako se u njemu

javlja neutaživa želja za životom, tim

više što ga je ona u tome potpuno

podržavala svojim držanjem i

povlađivanjem u kojem je čak nestalo i

onog njenog hladnog, odbojnog i

dvosmislenog “hm”, a u zamjenu za to,

223

Sead Mahmutefendić

sad je već skoro cijeli sat, kao neki

navijeni pajac, mehanički i poslušno

izgovarala: “da, da” glasom kao da u

ustima drži golem vruć krompir.

6.

Gosti odoše odmah iza devet sati. U

trenutku dok ih je ispraćao na stubištu,

Dautu su drhtale usne. Sve što je

osjećao u tom trenutku bio je mutni

snimak i predosjećaj vjerojatne

mogućnosti da će se Milena ovamo ponovno

vratiti - ranije ili kasnije. U to,

uopće, nije htio sumnjati. Uz to, ako se

u obzir uzmu i okolnosti koje su

predskazivale ovakav tijek događaja, te

da će ispuniti njegova nadanja, sve mu

je to sad izgledalo kao da čuje nečiji

224

Suze Dauta Arfadžana udaljeni glas, koji mu baja i ugodne

stvari šapće na uho.

Ti si se, dragi prijatelju, činilo

mu se da prevodi Vandine i Dragine

podrugljive osmejke, totalno pozdravio s

pameću. Ko je to od tebe mogao

očekivati?

Drago je na dnu stubišta još zbijao

šale na njegov račun, što je Vanda

popraćala grlatim i usiljenim odlomcima

keserenja. Milena ih je slijedila.

Nijednom nije okrenula glavu prema gore,

osim jednog jedinog puta, kad je bila uz

ogradu, dva kata niže. Iskoristila je

priliku dok su njih dvoje, naprijed,

bili zabavljeni oko toga da ne promaše

stepenik, jer u tom dijelu žarulja bješe

pregorjela. Ona proturi glavu preko

225

Sead Mahmutefendić

željezne ograde i pogleda prema gore.

Daut to nije od nje očekivao, bar ne

tad, pa bi prosto iznenađen tim njenim

nepredviđenim gestom, jer je upravo u

tom trenutku do pola zabo prst u nos.

Stid, da se javno suoči sa svojim

osjećajima, bješe još uvijek neugodno

prisutan u njemu, mada se ponekad znao

šaliti na račun toga. Ali sad, kad je

vidio pred sobom, u dubini stubišta

Milenin nedvosmisleni smijeh, koji ga

istog časa prenu iz lake rasijanosti, te

on sa strepnjom pomisli kako na njega

nije odgovorio onako kako bi priličilo

odgovoriti.

I dok ga je još držalo uzbuđenje i

ustreptalnost, on se povrati u stan.

Pogled mu se zaustavi na prljavim

226

Suze Dauta Arfadžana šalicama kave, praznim staklenim

čašicama, a onda, najednom, zaustavi se

da fotelji prevučanoj kardinalskim

plišem. Jedina stvar u stanu koju je

želio imati mimo svojih skromnih

prohtjeva.

Tu je ona do maloprije sjedila,

pomisli on skoro plačna izraza na licu.

7.

Tko je imalo bolje poznavao Dauta,

mogao se začuditi što je tako brzo i

iznenada bacio oko na Milenu te dozvolio

sebi da se u njemu pubertetski zacopa,

obzirom na činjenicu da do tog

poznanstva on u ženskom rodu nije

nalazio ničeg osobito zanimljivog zbog

čega bi, eto, pamet izgubio kao što ju

227

Sead Mahmutefendić

je, izgleda, već izgubio. Da li se to

moglo uzeti kao glavni razlog što se on

počeo sve manje slagati i dolaziti u

povremene nesporazume s okolicom, te je

s prilično vjere računao da će u Milanu

naći ono što je u ljudima već skoro

izgubio, pa je - da bi dostojanstvenim

uočinio svoj život - odlučio da na sve

načine privuče naklonost ove djevojke i

da s njom osnuje svoj vlastiti dom.

Studenoga, te iste godine, on se

toliko približi svojoj novoj poznanici,

tako da se moglo vrlo lako naslutiti da

će se njihova sve češća viđenja

vjerojatno završiti vjeridbom. Samo se

čekalo tko će prvi objelodaniti.

On je bio naočit. U najranijem

djetinjstvu prebolio je dječju paralizu,

228

Suze Dauta Arfadžana koja mu bješe zahvatila lijevu nogu do

koljena, te je, usljed te okolnosti,

otkad zna za sebe, oduvijek bio nježan i

nervozan. Od prvih znakova pubereta u

sebio je otkrio mazohističku potrrebu da

doziva i pomišlja na sopstvenu smrt. U

to vrijeme postaje čest posjetilac

mnogih lječilišta od kojih bješe najduže

u Trapista kod Banjaluke. U trenucima

kad bi ga do fanatičnog uzbuđenja

obuzimala ta njegova strast, on bi

osjećao kako uranja i tone nekud, u neku

neodređenu dubinu iz koje bi potom

neočišćen i smantan izranjao, budeći se

iz tog svog morbidnog solilokvija

potpuno fizički iscrpljen. Znao se

toliko zbog toga zaprepastiti da je isti

tren kleo da te svoje “grešne misli”

229

Sead Mahmutefendić

izbrblja zraku ili nažvrlja na papir. Od

toga će mu biti, vjerojatno, lakše.

Tada mu ne bješe ni sedamnaest

godina. Od onda bješe protekao još jedan

njegov život, a u stvari ništa se

osobito nije dogodilo izuzev činjenica

da je krvnički arčio papir i još ga

krvničkije palio ili derao nadajući se

uspjehu koji, nema sumnje, neminovno

mora doći jednog dana.

Ostavivši po strani te mučne i

neodređene nagovještaje koji su i dalje

utvrđivali neizvjesnost, nelagodu i

nezado-voljstvo u njemu, on je odlučio

da to privremeno otkloni u stranu i da

sredi račun sa sobom u jednoj drugoj

stvari. Sad je predosjećao da će mu

jednoličnost bračnog života donijeti

230

Suze Dauta Arfadžana toliko željeni mir, a redovita

seksualnost red i metodičnost u

književnom radu.

Milena je bila elegantan, obazirv

tip žene. Ona je nastojala u svakoj

prilici istaći tu svoju osobinu ili je

učiniti indiskrenom, stavljajući uz bok

svojoj eleganciji hladno i realno

rasuđivanje kojeg je ona pokazivala

jedino u trenucima kad se od nje

izričito očekivala zatražena riječ. U

svemu tome bila je prisutna njena želja

da skučava, koliko je to god više

moguće, svoju glagoljivost pred drugima,

osobito pred onima do kojih joj je

stalo, što je opet povlačilo ono njeno i

napuklo “hm”. Iza tog tobožnjeg

samopouzdanja i vanjskog mira, u stvari,

krio se njen lukavi oprez i nesigurnost.231

Sead Mahmutefendić

Uz sav onaj ceremonijal oko onog “hm”,

nije se moglo dogoditi da svaku svoju

pažljivo probranu riječ ne proprati

melankoličnim, sanjivim, mačijim

osmjehom.

Drugog sječnja, odmah nakon

doručka, Daut je svečanog rumenila na

licu i falset glasom saopćio prisutnoj

Vandi i Dragi da je za devetnaesti ovog

mjeseca zakazano vjenčanje.

- Čije? upita Vanda preko

zalogaja.

- E, to sami pogađajte - reče

Daut sav ozaren.

Mada je ovakva njena reakcija u

njemu izazvala dojam da je u pitanju

njen nedvosmisleni prijekor, ona je

morala kod njega dodirnuti njegovu vez

232

Suze Dauta Arfadžana izgrađenu podozrivost i sumnjičavost

prema njoj. On učini gest kao da je

prečuo ili nije razumio krajnji smisao,

te joj, djelujući naivno i prostodušno,

odgovori u istom tonu, oprezno

izbjegavajući da ne izgovori kakvu

pretešku riječ ponajviše zbog Milene,

ali i zbog nje same da je ne povrijedi,

tražeći neki prikladan eufemizam: “Ne bi

se reklo da smo izabrali pravo vrijeme,

zar ne? Ipak, vjenčanje će biti za

sedamnaest dana.”

Daut Arfadžan se nadao da će čuti

od prijatelja koju lijepu riječ, onako

kako što je razmišljao kad im tu vrijest

saopći, ali ne bješe udostojen tog

zadovoljstva da čuje ono što je

očekivao. To je s rezignacijom upravo

sad ustanovio. Od Vande se nadao da će233

Sead Mahmutefendić

bar odlumiti tobožnju oduševljenost. S

pravom se nadao tom njenom triku koji je

uvijek ličio na onaj kao kad čovjek

neiskreno, pod nekom prisilom, hinji

očaranost glazbom dok pri tom osjeća

strahovitu dosadu i prazninu, te sve to

nastoji prikriti sanjivom i glupom

zanesenošću. U vezi s tim, sjeti se kad

je otkrio tu njenu obmanu odlučio je da

prekine s njom i posveti se pisanju kako

bi što dalje izmakao patnji i bijesu što

su ga sa svih strana spopadali. I sad,

kad ga taj detalj podsjeti na taj davno

minuli doživljaj, on pocrveni u licu kao

što je crvenio i onda kad je s bolom,

mukom i očajem sumnjao i napokon saznao

za Vandinu nevjernost. On je bio takva

vrsta čovjeka da se najčešće sam osjećao

234

Suze Dauta Arfadžana nelagodno za ono ružno, sramotno i lažno

što drugi oko njega njemu ili nekom

drugom čine. najviše od toga dirala ga

je i boljela ravnodušnost s kojom su to

oni radili, osionost u kojoj on nije

vidio zlobu, jer je ljude gledao samo s

one dobre strane, kao zabludjele,

zavedene, naivne, te je za nih uvijek

mogao iznaći poneku i lijepu riječ,

ispriku, opravdavajući to društvenim

zakonitostima kojima jalov i mizeran

čovjekov duh i priroda malo kad mogu

dorasti. Nije u pitanju - razmišljao je

on - nečista savjest koliko nepostojanje

njuha da se priroda i duša čovjekova

usklade s onim što mu život može pružiti

i udovoljiti. Čovjek će sebi sve

osigurati osim sreće i ljepote za kojom

on najviše vapi i traga. A i kad ga ona235

Sead Mahmutefendić

opahnu - kao pahuljice na uzavrelom licu

ili tračak sunca po prozeblom tijelu - u

njima njegova duša toliko zatitra da ga

naprosto isprepada i navodi na pomisao

da je sam i nesretan. Sreća je... Šta

je, napokon sreća? Biti ne-poročan? Biti

vješt? Biti miran i spokojan? Za nekog

je sre-ća ne biti srećan.

Ni Vanda, neosporno, nije bila bez

svojih draži. Dautu nije bilo ni dan-

danas jasno u što se on zaljubio prije

desetak godina - u njenu kosu i zelene

oči, kojih se uvijek pomalo bojao ili u

njenu lepršavu i nonšalantnu samouvje-

renost s kojom je govorila o velikim

stvarima kao što su bi-le umjetnost i

medicina. Sve je to - onda kod nje bilo

otmjeno i odmjereno da je na svakog

236

Suze Dauta Arfadžana morala ostaviti dojam zbog svog znanja i

vještine.

Svakako je gotovo suvišno reći da

će se dva i pol tjedna nakon tog dana

pred zgradom Općine pojaviti uparađeni

Daut i Milena sa svatovima koji nisu

bili u velikom broju. Mlada bješe skoro

mela bijelom vjenčanicom pokockanu

cestu, pa ju je zbog toga morala svaki

čas s dva prsta malo podi-zati. Na glavi

je imala bijeli šešir s velikim obodom

na koji je utaknula umjetni crveni krin,

preko lica bješe prebacila bijeli veo.

Na rukama bijele rukavice u kojima je

stiskala izheklani bijeli cvijet.

On je bio nešto manje napadan.

Odijelo na pruge od crnog tvida, te

kratka široka mašna s velikim čvorom

237

Sead Mahmutefendić

koju je uz košulju pridržavala zlatna

igla. To su mu je Drago i Vanda kupili

za vjenčani poklon.

Samo što se pojaviše na izlazu iz

zgrade, dočeka ih graja djece, kojima

oni, isti čas, baciše pregršt šarenih

bombona.

Odmah iza mladenaca bili su Vanda i

Drago.

Na ulici su ih čekala dvoje

upaljenih fića. Na obje haube bilo je

selotejpom priljepljeno umjetno

plastično cvijeće i po jedna grančica

bora. Razveza odnekud harmonika, a na

mladence bacite silu papirića.

Prozori se iskitili glavama. Žene

drže manju djecu u naručju ili po

238

Suze Dauta Arfadžana isturenim bokovima. Neke od njih brišu

rukom suze. “Ee, pusta mladost!”

- Ko je mlada?

- Ona tanka što sad ulazi u kola.

- Odakle je?

- Kažu da je iz Dalmacije.

- Hajde, neka je, Maksuz selam1

- Odakle je ona apotekarica,

boriju ti majku?

- Koja?

- Suzana Hejvort.

- Misliš na Vandu?

- Vidi je, ko iz filma “Zvijezde

su daleko”, boriju ti neću mater.

- Ona je kuma.

- Kuma, kume, kumi, kumu, oj

kumo, kumom o kumi.

1 239

Sead Mahmutefendić

- To ti zato što je nekad bila od

sadašnjeg đuvegije?

- Ma kaki, to je danas moderno.

Balkanski je kad rade sjekire na sudu,

ti neću boga Savaota.

Tog poslijepodneva poštar donese

još nekoliko tele-grama. Jedan,

luksuzan, s fotografijom u boji muškarca

i žene u zagrljaju na ogradi balkona,

bio je jedan od Mile-ninih roditelja,

koje su Daut i Milena tek juče obavije-

stili preko telefona, pravdajući njihovo

izostavljanje sa svadbene svečanosti

razlozima, svakako neuvjerljivim za

starce, da oni žele da to bude

najskromnije, bez pompe i galame, po

mogućnosti, jedino, uz obavezno

prisustvo kumova.

240

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Nije bilo nikakve svečanosti.

Doduše, kumovi su nava-ljivali da se

poslje obavljenog ceremonijala izravno

upute kolima do mjesnog hotela na ručak,

što Arfadžanovi najodlu-čnije odbiše

izjavivši da bi to tek značilo uprskati

stvar koja se do tad izvanredno,

spontano i po planu odvijala. Oni

otkriše da je ručak već zgotovljen i

pripremljen u Dautovom stanu. Tamo će se

svi u domaćoj atmosferi nekonvencionalno

osjećati.

- Već se počeo rasipati kao pravi

muž - šapnu Vanda Dragi na uho.

Već sljedećeg jutra, koristeći iz

školskog statuta sedmodnevni dopust za

takve prilike, otputova Daut sa svojom

mladom suprugom u Supetar na Braču gdje

241

Sead Mahmutefendić

su Milenini rodite-lji posjedovali

veliku dvokatnu kuću od kamena.

Očito je bilo da Daut bješe veseo

zato što je vjenčanje brzo i skromno

obavljeno i što je izmakao od svatova na

more. Ono uparađivanje i uniformisanje

svakako ne bješe nje-gova ideja. Sat

vremena prije vjenčanja imao je on u

svom stanu žestoku svađu s Milenom, koja

se energično i kate-gorički suprostavila

kad je vidjela da je on kreno u farmer-

kama i džemperu u Općinu.

- Ako hoćeš, budi cigan cijeli

život, ali se moraš sad obući onako kako

ja to želim - reče ona odlučno. - Ne

poslušaš li me, od vjenčanja nema ništa!

Iako je to rekla glasno i bijesno,

ipak je on osjetio da se ona pribojava

242

Suze Dauta Arfadžana da je on ne posluša. Taj njen pokušaj

glume ga toliko ganu da on isti čas, bez

otpora, svuče ono što je imao na sebi,

opra se, te uze ono što mu ona još sinoć

biješe povješala na vješalicu u ormar.

U noćnom vozu uhvati ga

neraspoloženje. Sva sreća što su

supružnici bili u spravaćim kolima, pa

su vjerovatno pretpostavljali da ih niko

ne može čuti. A nije ih bilo, osobito,

ni briga, jer se baš nisu trudili da

snize glas.

Padoše teške i ružne riječi. Prvi

put se spomenu i rastava. Milena

zaplaka. Odnekle iskopa cigaretu i

zapali. Pope se uz ljestve na gornji

krevet. Cijela ova situacija izazva

nervoznu patnju kod oboje njih. On

243

Sead Mahmutefendić

prizna da je nervozan zbog toga što od

jutros nije stavio u kljun ništa osim

kriške hljeba namazane margarinom.

Usljed patnje ili uzbuđenosti, želudac

mu se sav stegnuo. U takvim prilikama

glavobolja ga je obavezno mučila.

Na gornjem krevetu Milena je dimila

i mislila: Što je onoj kozi, mojoj

rodici, da se onoliko narolja te da grli

i ljubi mog muža, a onda da cmizdri na

njenom ramenu? Uz to, već četvrti dan

kako joj izostaje menstruacija. Zar sad,

kad ozbiljno misli doći u Dautovu školu

predavati engleski jezik? Ako joj

otkriju da je u drugom stanju, može se

pozdraviti s poslom. A nakon što rodi,

već će pola Jugosla-vije diplomirati.

244

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Još neko vrijeme, oboje ih je nosio

neki val nervozne ustreptalosti. Kratko

i jednostavno, kao da ispituje đaka za

ocjenu, upita on nakon duže šutnje svoju

suprugu dovodeći sebe u komičnu

situaciju: “Ako ne prestaneš, izaći ću

na prvoj stanici i vratiti se kući”.

Sjedeći pogurena na gornjem ležaju,

pazeći da glavnom ne udari o strop

vagona, Milena na jednom zabi šaku u

gaće. Odandje izvadi smotuljak

neokrvavljene vate, koju mu poturi pod

nos: “Gledaj ovo, seronjo! Da ovdje ima

samo i jedna kap, s radošću bi ti

otvorila vagonska vrata i još bi ti

usput mahnula rukom za sretan put. Idi

ako misliš da sam te prešla. Jebi se i

ti i tvoje silaženje na prvoj stanici”.

245

Sead Mahmutefendić

Daut je tupo zurio u vatu i nije

znao kako to protu-mačiti. Njegov nos

uhvati vonj vagine. Podiže obrve i

isfrflja: “Na putu je?”

- Hm! - nasmija se ona prezirno.

- Što ti misliš po-vodom te

problematike?

Otkad znam za sebe, oduvijek je u

njemu fiziologija ljudskog tijela

izazivala nelagodnu ustreptalost duha

pomi-ješanu s tjelesnom klonulošću i

apatijom. Protiv takvih osjećaja s

prezirom se bunio nalazeći im razloge u

mutnim i neugodnim sjećanjima na

izvjesne monologe njegovog oca u vezi s

čovjekovim tijelom. Jednom ga je, ne

htijući, uhvatio golog u hodniku stana.

Pomislio je da je neko ušao na ulazna

246

Suze Dauta Arfadžana vrata. Pošao je da vidi ko je to. Otac

nije znao da je on u stanu, pa se

slobodno, gologuz, šetao po sobama.

Našavši se oči u oči sa Dautom, on je

kao neko stidljivo žensko prekrio rukama

genitalije pred uperenim sinovljevim

pogledom, a po-tom se u trku okrenuo i

pobijegao u kupatilo. Koliko mu je tad

bila odvratna, tužna i smiješna ta

scena, toliko je on, s ne malom

potištenošću, zaključio da bi on to isto

uradio kad bi se našao u sličnoj

situaciji. I sama ta okolnost, što nije

ravnodušno doživljavao bilo kakvu

promjenu na svom tijelu ili u njemu, on

je uzimao kao prokleti genetski dar svog

oca s čijom se derviškom psihologijom

bez uspijeha nosi u posljednje dvije

knjige pjesama, koje još u rukopisu247

Sead Mahmutefendić

čekaju da se neko smiluje i da ih

pročita. Nikako odgonetnuti zagonetnog

oca kojeg on s prezirom i

nipodaštavanjem prema krvi što kola u

njemu istrajava u sebi. Zato on i ovaj

put, poput lake drhtavice, osjeti

najprije ustreptalost, a potom i

klonulost kad ču za tu vijest.

Mješavina ovih dvaju osjećanja,

koja bi ga obično dovodila do umora i

potištenosti, izazivala je u njemu

poznato raspoloženje, te nije bio

rijedak slučaj da uhvati sebe kako drhti

od omamljenosti i uzbuđenja što mu se

obično dešavalo nakon takvih razgovora.

Milena se spusti s gornjeg ležaja i

sjede kraj njega. Oboje su neko vrijeme

kroz prozor posmatrali jezero u daljini

248

Suze Dauta Arfadžana predijela iznad kojeg su se na okolnim

uzvišicama izdizale smrekove šume.

Uskoro i ta slika promače.

Dautova želja da se lijepo misli o

njemu kao dobrom i osjećajnom čovjeku

nije mogla nadvladati njegovu

ošamućenost tom nepredviđenom viješću.

Svoju zbunjenost izražavao je šutnjom i

oborenim očima. Ništa mu nije pomagalo

ni to što je nekoliko puta za to vrijeme

pokušavao sebi nabaciti ideju i uvjeriti

se u nju da je to njegovo dijete. Glasno

izraziti sumnju u to, nije se, naprosto,

usudio, jer za tako nešto nije imao

jasnih dokaza, već su ga na to

podsticale samo neke mutne indicije.

Taj laki paralitik u lijevu nogu do

ispod koljena, koji se gegao sjetnom

humornošću klauna i ležernošću kauboja,249

Sead Mahmutefendić

do suza je bio dirnut Mileninom laži.

Zbog nje se on nikad ne bi iskrcao na

prvoj stanici.

Njegove oči zaista se napuniše

suzama i on najednom zaplaka. Osjetivši

se postiđenim zbog toga, on zakrenu

glavu u stranu i ovlaš joj stavi prst na

usne dajući joj time do znanja da je

moli da šuti.

Međutim, Milena mu bijesno otkloni

prst sa svojih usana, te sva drhteći u

glasu, upita uvrijeđeno: “Kako bi

gospodin Arfadžan protumačio tu svoju

šutnju? Ili se usro u gaće ili je

zanijemio od sreće, a! Hm”.

- Šta mu fali reći u što sumnja?

Reći ću joj: “Našla si mene za magare?

Drugi će dolmiti a ja ću hraniti?” 250

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

On odgovori: “Ne znam Milena...

stvarno ne znam kako bi se to valjalo

ponašati”.

Ponovo se prepusti ranijim

razmišljanjima. Od sveg srca poželi ih

izreći naglas. Odlučnost je dobra za

takve prilike. Možda će je zaboljeti kao

kad se vadi zub, ali je bolje i to

učiniti nego cijeli život trpiti

tinjajuću zubobolju i čekati na gangrenu

jednog lijepog dana. Koliko mu se dopala

takva alegorija za njegovo trenutno

stanje, isto toliko nije imao hrabrosti

glasno izgovoriti ono što ga je tištalo.

- Znaš, Milena, kad čovjek ima

pokvaren zub najbolje ga je izvaditi -

reče on. - Ako ga na vrijeme ne popraviš

ili ne izvadiš, postoji velika

251

Sead Mahmutefendić

vjerovatnoća da zub zahvati granulom.

Znam da je teško podnositi bol kad se

zub čupa, ali je i to daleko bolje nego

cijeli život trpjeti zubobolju.

- Odakle ti sad takva ideja? -

upita ga ona.

On joj se ispriča da mora otići

do zahoda.

Žurio je hodnikom. Kad rezu na

vratima spusti na zasun, pogleda se u

ogledalo. Umornim i promuklim glasom

reče: “Zdravo magarče! Drugi faširaju i

dolme, a ti hrani i tegli i u jarmu

skapaj. Meni ju je podmetnula kompanija

Drago & Vanda. Mene su odabrali za

uzorak. Čekam da se voz zaustavi.

Milena, skloni te šugave ruke s mene,

čuješ šta ti kažem. Samo me probaj 252

Suze Dauta Arfadžana taknuti, prebiću ti sve te idijotske

prste. Kurvetino anđeoskog lica. Marš!

Ja sam, bre, pesnik za tebe. Ti ćeš

pesnika nasamariti, pizduljo pizdasta.

Ti nisi žena, nisi ni čovjek. Ti si

dlakava pica na dvije noge. To je tvoj

zaštitni znak. Da me nisi dodirnula!”

Pomjeri se kvaka na vratima. Neko

je pokušao ući. Daut stade na papučicu

pored zahodske školjke, hinjeći da

tobože s nuždom završava. Osjeti umor i

stid, a onda primijeti da je prilično

zbunjen. Nepoznati pred vratima možda ga

je mogao čuti kad je sam sa sobom

razgovarao.

Otvori vrata. Ne pogledavši ko bi

mogao biti, ode prema svom kupeu.

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Sead Mahmutefendić

Dočeka ga Milenin pogled. Još je

sjedila na donjem ležaju pogleda uprtog

ravno u njega. Nije znao s kim bi je

usporedio: ili s kadijom ili s dželatom?

Svejedno, oboje su mu bili neugodni.

Da bi izbjegao njena daljnja

suvišna i neugodna ispitivanja, koja su

se vrtila oko toga da joj razjasni svoje

čudno ponašanje kad je čuo da je ostala

u drugom stanju, on uloži priličan napor

da se nasmiješi prema njoj i da joj

rekne neiskreno, hladno i neuvjerljivo:

“Milenče, vjerovatno sam maloprije

zanijemio od sreće. Ne bi Bog razumio

čovjekovu psihologiju”.

Šta bi ti sad htijela? - mislio

je on u sebi, nasto-jeći dobiti u

vremenu i otkloniti njene sumnje. Da

254

Suze Dauta Arfadžana skačem do ovog plafona od sreće? Nije

lako strpati u ovu glavu da si ti

napravio novi život.

- Ti se teško zagrijavaš, a teško

se i hladiš - pri-mjeti ona s ironijom,

očito misleći na njegovu laku za-

paljivost nakon što ju je prvi put vidio

u svom stanu. - Ipak, i pored svega,

milo mi je što sam to čula od tebe.

- Šta si ti čula od mene? - isti

čas je upita Daut.

- Eto to, da si vjerovatno

zanijemio od sreće. - odgovori ona

hladno.

Njene riječi uopće ga ne dirnuše. U

njegovom plutajućem pogledu mogla se

pročitati rasijanost. Danas je dvadeseti

januar, a oni su imali prvi intimni

255

Sead Mahmutefendić

odnos na katolički Božić. Znači da je

prošlo dvadeset šes dana od tada.

Izbjegavao je to reći plašeći se da joj

ne učini nepravdu. Tako nešto smatrao je

nedostojnim sebe. Međutim, s druge

strane, držao je za dužnost da tu svoju

sumnjičavost provjeri s kompetentnim

činjenicama.

- Milena, ti vjeruješ u Boga? -

upita je on.

- Čemu takvo morsko pitanje? -

začudi se ona.

- Tako... pitam - reče on.

- Naravno da vjerujem - reče ona.

- To sam ti, mislim, već dala ranije do

znanja.

U glasu joj se osjećala nervozna

spremnost da brani svoje ubjeđenje.

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Da ti možda ne smeta?

- Ne, ni najmanje. Zašto bi? -

upita on.

- Hvala Bogu - reče ona.

- Nego me zanima piše li negdje u

Svetom pismu o patnji, strahu, šta je to

stid pred iskušenjem da čovjek učini

grijeh bez kojeg, izgleda, on ne može?

Je li misao o njima najlicimjernija

koketarija suvišnih i odbačenih, ružnih

i prezrenih, koje je centrifuga

ringišpila pobacala s podivljalih

stolica? Samo me oslobodi Matejinog

evanđelja.

- Ja slavim crkvene praznike,

idem svako toliko u crkvu na ispovjed -

reče Milena. - Fratar je oduvijek dola-

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Sead Mahmutefendić

zio kod nas u kuću. Je li te to

zanimalo? To mi valjda nećeš zabraniti?

- Nisi me razumjela - reče Daut.

- Što se tiče mene, možeš zaraditi

reumu klečeći na koljenima u crkvi.

Očito da me nisi razumjela.

- Kako bih te mogla razumijeti

kad svo vrijeme nešto za sebe frfljaš u

bradu - podiže ona glas.

- Ma nije to toliko ni važno -

sklopi on ruke.

- Pa kad nije važno, zašto onda

pitaš? - zabezeknu se ona.

- Tako - odgovori on. - Tak taak!

Zar to nije bolje nego šutiti kao

maloprije?

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Sigurno da je bolje. Ono je

bilo grozno. Pomislila sam već na ono

najgore - reče ona i zagrli ga.

8.

Čim je ušao u hodnih, što je kružio

duž cijelog prizemlja bolnice, Daut

ugleda gomilu pacijentkinja kako stoje

ili sijede na drvenim stolicama s

naslonom poredanim duž zida. Neke su

zabile glavu u modne magazine, druge su

rasejano buljile pred sobom ili zvjerale

pogledima od jedne do druge. Po zidovima

su bili izvješani prihodni plakati i

upozorenja o čuvanju zdravlja, po

stolićima mnoštvo brošura o

kontracepciji i njenoj primjeni,

planiranju obitelji, željenoj trudnoći s

259

Sead Mahmutefendić

obaveznim osmjesima buduće trbuljave

majke i presretnog oca, koji željno

isčekuju očekivano dijete. Tu je bilo po

nekoliko brojeva Zdravstvenog lista i Našeg

zdravlja.

Daut objasni dežurnoj sestri da je

ljekaru došao samo radi jedne

informacije koju bi želio saznati od

ginekologa, što joj je, samim tim,

diskretno stavljeno do znanja da ga kao

muškarca, koji ne treba pregled, pusti

preko reda. Ustalom, zašto bi se koja od

ovih žena pobunila kad bi njega vidjela

kako ulazi u doktorovu ordinaciju?

Sestra se malo zapilji u njega. Da

li da to uzme kao njegov trik ili da ga

žali što je bez supruge došao nešto

260

Suze Dauta Arfadžana provjeravati. Normalno je to da u takvim

stvarima može lako doći do nesporazuma.

Kad vidje da je čovjek

nezainteresovan za njenu radoznalost,

ona mu obeća da će to doktoru svakako

prenijeti.

Ne prođe ni deset minuta kad se

doktor lično pojavi na vratima i prstom

ga pozva da uđe. Ono što osjeti u

trenutku kad ođe hodnikom ka ordinaciji

bilo je daleko od ljubomore. Osjeti stid

i samosažaljenje prema svojoj umišljenoj

i nerealnoj sumnji, zatim mješavinu

odvratnosti prema sebi, uzajamne

povezanosti, te veličanstvenog osjećaja

sopstvene veličanstvene drame.

U svakom slučaju, on se našao na

pokretnoj tapaciranoj stolici podnoseći

261

Sead Mahmutefendić

ispitivački pogled doktora, koji ga je

posmatrao iz neposredne blizine ribljim

očima preko debelih sočiva sa širokim,

koštanim okvirima. U isti čas, kad to

vidje, osjeti neizmjernu tugu i

samosažaljenje, ali se ipak toliko sabra

da se nakašlja u stisnutu šaku, ispravi

na stolici i sklopljene dlanove zbunjeno

položi na doktorov stol.

9.

Početkom ljeta naišle su na

Milenu nove i još neugodnije nevolje.

Ljekari su joj bili naredili da mora

stalno ležati u postelji. U to vrijeme,

njoj je bilo suviše teško da nosi

nabrekli trbuh pošto bi pri svakom

koraku osjetila bol u predjelu karlice.

262

Suze Dauta Arfadžana Moralo se, isključivo, stalno ležati da

bi se izbjegao prerani porođaj.

Daut ju je zatekao u razgovoru s

majkom. Po njihovim pogledima kojim su

ga izbjegavale, znao je da mu zamjeraju

kašnjenje iz škole, jer zadnji čas bješe

završen još prije dva cijela sata.

Zato on dade svom licu smrknut i

umoran izraz kako bi ih obje obmanuo bez

suvišnog izjašnjavanja za koje on odavno

bješe izgubio svako strpljenje.

On već prilično bješe radio na svom

prvom romanu. Ni sam, u početku, nije

umio objasniti zašto se odlučio uhvatiti

u koštac s materijom koju nije dobro ni

pozavao niti ju je pošteno primio k

srcu, niti ju je razum, bogzna, kako

sebi razjasnio. Jednostavno, sjeo je na

263

Sead Mahmutefendić

drvenu stolicu s naslonom, stavio

predase list bijelog papira s crtama i

spustio vrh olovke na njegovu površinu.

Kad ga je podigao, na tom mjestu ostala

je tačka. Posmatrao je Daut tačku i

mislio: kako i s čime krenuti odavdje?

Učini mu se da sve ono što je proživio

nije vrijedno spomena a kamoli tuđe

pažnje, pa je, zbunjen ovim neugodnim

zaključkom, počeo črčkati i činiti

kojekakve crte - uspravne i vodoravne -

živo razmišljajući o čemu on to,

zapravo, treba da piše. Nekakav zapis

valja ostaviti na papiru te donekle

primiriti ustreptalost duše koja ga je

znala do zlovolje mučiti. Mora se on

ponovo vratiti svom peru, papiru i -

konačno - duši svojoj.

264

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Posjedio je on dobrih po sata i bio

sve zlovoljniji i razdražljiviji. Do tad

bješe napisao samo jednu rečenicu. Ništa

naročito što bi ga moglo zadovoljiti i

primiriti nije mu padalo na pamet, te je

- po koznakoji put - isčitavao onu

prostoproširenu rečenicu. Svaki čas je

mijenjao poredak riječi tražeći za nju

ritam i muzikalnost.

Sinoć sam je opet sanjao i shvatio da je Lea moj

život.

Od te jedne rečenice na kraju je

načinio dvije: Sinoć sam je opet sanjao. Shvatio

sam da je Lea moj život.

U gruboj skici, bez jasnog plana o

čemu će dalje pisati, Lea je trebala

predstavljati njegovu Milenu, koju on

više doživljava kao literaturu, a manje

265

Sead Mahmutefendić

kao svoju ženu. Kada će se on pojaviti i

odakle? Otkuda će on doći? On mora biti

taj fatalni udvarač koji će je skroz-

naskroz izmijeniti. Takođe i njen život.

To će biti ljubavna priča koja će

potresti milijone čitalac. Ona bi ga

morala konačno izvesti iz anonimnosti.

Tu će titrati zvijezde, hrzati goli

konji, izbacivati paru iz nozdrva,

livadama u praskozorje vući će se magla,

čuće se i topot kopita. S okolnih vrbika

dizat će se magla, iza njih će se čuti

lomljenje potoka, dvoje ljubavnika kao

dvoje duhova.

Strasno i iskreno poželi Daut

pobjeći iz ovog ubogog mjesta, ali

osjeća i dobro zna da to za sad nije

266

Suze Dauta Arfadžana moguće. Skoro će na svijet i njegovo

dijete.

Istog trenutka, kad shvati da mu

još zadugo nema nikud izlaza i da je

obruč skoro sklopljen oko njega, okrenu

se od rukopisa prema razvučenom kauču na

kome je ležala Milena i čitala neki

ženski magazin. Ona ga pogleda i razvuče

usne u poluosmijeh.

- Pišeš? - upita ona.

- Serem. - odgovori on.

Nikad on nije uspio dokučiti da li

mu to ona gospodckim manirom upućuje

prijekor na protraćeno vrijeme ili to

biješe najobičnije pitanje koje ništa

nije iza sebe krilo do korektne

ravnodušnosti. Bio je uvjeren da je od

prvog trenutka, kad je saznala za tu

267

Sead Mahmutefendić

njegovu strast, njegov hobi - kako je to

imala običaj reći - te je taj rad držala

za sizifovsku i jalovu rabotu. A da

stvar bude još pogubnija za njega, ona

je voljela čitati mnogo, i to mnogo više

nego što je i sam imao strpljenja da to

čini. Sve je čitala što joj je dolazilo

do ruku i očiju: ljubiće, Jursenarove

Hadrijanove memoare, feljtone i novele po

novinama, Staljina, Bibliju, Kur’an, sve

- samo nijedan da pročita njegov redak.

Zato se potrudi da i ovaj put njen

podsmijeh odgonetne kao porugu ili

najobičniju kurtoaziju. Da bi izbjegao

neugodne posljedice, što bi vjerovatno

bile izazvane njegovom lakomislenom

povrijeđenošću ako bi ona kojim slučajem

nešto neoprezno i iskreno primijetila,

268

Suze Dauta Arfadžana on zadrža na njoj neko vrijeme svoj

neodređeni i šeretski osmijeh.

To je njoj bilo sasvim dovoljno da

s rezignacijom ustanovi kako je

djetinjast i damu je još uvijek stalo do

njenog povoljnog suda o onom što on

piše. Međutim, po njenom raspoloženju,

on ubrzo sa žalošću primjeti da je i

ovaj put nadmudren.

Punica bješe zabavljena heklanjem.

Jedina stvar u kojoj je došao do

kakve-takve predo-strožnosti, bila je

njegova osvetoljubiva odluka - prije

svega kao posljedica povređenog ponosa -

da ni po koju cijenu nikad nikom ne

pročita ni jedan jedini redak. Doduše,

niko se zbog toga nije posebno ni

uzbuđivao, niti je koga od toga

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Sead Mahmutefendić

zaboljela glava, a niti je iko pokazivao

neke posebne znake patnje. Ako neko baš

bude inzistirao na tome, mislio je sav

očajan u mraku, glatko i bez objašnjenja

će ga odbiti. Jedino mu nije bilo jasno

da li da bude ekscentrik kao što je Dali

i da sve šalje k vragu, ili da bude

bezimen i da samo njegova djela govore

umjesto njega. Tad će zapaliti javnost,

a on će ovdje činovnički učiti djecu

čitanju i pisanju. Neka me samo Milena

tad upita: “Dautiću, mogu li pročitati

šta si danas napisao?”, ja ću joj s pika

odbrusiti: “Ne!” Kad dobijem AVNOJ-a,

Njegoša, Andrića ili NIN, poslat ćuim

pismo u kojem žalim da ne mogu primiti

nagradu, jer je nagrada ruganje s

čovjekovom mukom. Ili - Ne! Zahvalit ću

270

Suze Dauta Arfadžana im na nagradi i objasnit ću im da sam u

principu protiv nje, te zbog toga ne

mogu da je primim. Sutradan će biti:

“Mama, čitaš li ti u novinama kakvu je

moj Dautić digao prašinu u

jugoslavenskoj javnosti?”

- Morala si znati za koga se

udaješ.

- Dautiću, čuješ li ti ovo?

Ponosna sam na tebe.

- Ne seri u trenutku kad voz

stoji.

Znala je Milena za to, te je jednog

dana najozbiljnije naredila sebi da bude

ozbiljna kad se bude poveo razgovor o

tome. Zamolila ga je da joj u što kraćim

crtama izloži o čemu on to piše.

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Sead Mahmutefendić

Sav ozaren i uzbuđen, potpuno

zaboravivši na zadatu riječ, uze on s

police rukopise da joj pročita zadnju

priču, ali ga ona u tom njegovom

prostodušnom pokušaju energično

zaustavi: “Ne, ne, ne, za mila boga!

Samo sam ti rekla da mi ispričaš”.

- Ne mogu ja to onako kako sam

napisao... mislim, stilizirao - reče on

sav ustreptao.

- Ne, ne, sunce moje. Hm! Rekla

sam ti da mi ukratko ispričaš.

On s očajem osjeti kako mu se jed,

gorčina i jad kupe u njemu. Dozvolio je,

kretenski je dopustio da istrči iz svoje

ljušture.

Ona se mačiji prema njemu smiješila

zbog onog što je uspjela prirediti. I 272

Suze Dauta Arfadžana punica je digla pogled s heklanja i

otvoreno se cerila preko naočala.

Mržnja je počela u Dautu zreliti.

Još nije znao da je to ona, ili je

izbjegavao da to prizna i da se suoči s

njom. Bojao se priznati da njom biva

opsjednut i da ga ona sve više

zaokuplja. Je li on njom već ozbiljno

zaražen? Bilo mu je sasvim jasno da više

ne može biti onaj što je nekad bio.

Moraće se naviknuti da je time dosta

izgubio, ali će isto-vremeno pokušati da

zbog toga ne prestane osjećati gordost

gubitnika. Sve osim da prizna vlastitu

zabludu.

Bio je - to je Milena morala od

nekog ču+ti - lakrdijaš kojem nije bilo

ravna. On je suze ljudima tjerao na oči.

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Sead Mahmutefendić

Zbog njega su se hvatali za stomake i

oni najozbiljniji, vapeći često za

vazduhom. Svemu se on rugao oko sebe,

ismijavao na jednostavan način time što

je stavljao sebe kao glavnu ličnost. A

ljudi su se previjali od smijeha, već

samim tim koga bi u tim njegovim

parodijama prepoznali. Uglavnom, svi bi

bili omamljeni od radosnog uzbuđenja što

u ovoj betinji imaju pred sobom čovjeka

koji ih zna uveseliti, razgaliti ih i

otjerati im čamotinju iz njihovih duša.

Morala je to znati Milena, jer je i ona

bila omađijana njegovom veselom

prirodom, te je osjetila da joj taj

čovjek raspiruje emocije.

U sadašnjim prilikama mu je na tom

zamjerala, samo što je bila toliko

274

Suze Dauta Arfadžana trezvena i razumna da to nije htjela

priznati, jer je i sama uviđala

neumjerenost i neopravdanost tih svojih

prijekora.

Dakle, pomišljala je ona često da

on vedrinu treba namijeniti samo svojoj

supruzi i da se mane bjelosvjetskih

protuha. Osmijeh neće usrećiti i

obogatiti uboge i učmale duše.

- Da si ga tražila, ne bi goreg

našla - vikao je na nju razgoropađeni

otac.

- Mila, još jednom dobro izvagaj

varljivo srce i ono što ti otac kaže -

govorila joj je mati.

- Ali mama, pa mi smo već

vjenčani - rekla je Milena sva očajna. -

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Sead Mahmutefendić

Kako mi možete tako nešto predlagati!

Jeste li vi toga svjesni?

- Na hiljade ih se razvede pa šta

im fali? Žive ljudskije i snošljivije

nego većina onih koji su, tobože, ostali

u braku. Pih, da sam samo koju godinu

mlađa a ova mi pamet!

- Ali, ja sam, mama, noseća! -

Pokušavala ju je Milena iznenaditi.

- Pa šta? - spremno odgovori

mati. - Ni prva ni posljednja. U

Švedskoj to sve odreda rade. Šta će ženi

muž? Samo da joj jad donese. I to još

ovakav. Gdje njega spazi, nesretne ti

oči.

- Dobro, Milenice - pokušavao je

otac samog sebe sagledati. - Reci mi

slobodno da sam malograđanin, 276

Suze Dauta Arfadžana konzervativac... govnar, starkelja s

predrasudama, neka - reci mi, nema

veze, samo ja tebe pitam jednu stvar:

Šta si ti to imala vidjeti na tom tipu?

- Hm - poče Milena - ja ne gledam

šta je na nekom, već šta je u nekom.

- Ne izvrdavaj moje riječi -

ljutnu se otac. Mogu i ja lako

uključiti se u filozofiju, to bar nije

težak i žuljav posao. Ti dobro znaš na

šta ja mislim. Pitam te šta si ti to

vidjela u njemu?

- Šta sam vidjela? - upita ona s

nekim prostodušnim čuđenjem. Hm, vidjela

sam pjesmu i smijeh.

- Kad si ti takva, osjetit ćeš

ti, kćerce, bogme samo bol. Kunem ti se

čašću i iskustvom, dabogda ja

277

Sead Mahmutefendić

pogriješio, od spretnih udvarača nikad

nije bilo dobra i poštena muža, zapamti

to.

- Mila - umješa se mati - ne

prigovaram što je faličan...

- ...nego mi je nekako grub i

kruto govori - nervozno Milena upade

materi u riječ.

- Baš sam to mislila reći - reče

joj mati. - A ti se šprdaj s ocem i

majkom. Ne može tebi niko bolji

prijatelj od oca i majke, ne, ne. To

izbi iz svoje glave. A takvih kao što je

tvoj muž, valja se dobro čuvati.

- Nekom je Bog nešto uzeo a nekom

oduzeo - aludirala je Milena skoro na

ivici histerije.

278

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Nije slučajno u narodu rečeno

da se valja čuvati obilježenih - zategnu

majka konopac do kraja.

- Znate šta - pokuša Milena

prekinuti njihovo sve otvorenije

prebacivanje - taj momak ima motor

ringišpila u glavi. Kad ga on upali, ima

da ti se vrti kao da si na brodu kojeg

okreće orkan od devet bofora.

- Mi ozbiljno s tobom, a ti se s

nama zafrkaješ - ljutio se otac.

- Ja vama ozbiljno odgovaram, a

vi bi se od dosade zezali sa mnom i sa

mojim suprugom - dreknu Milena. - Vi

niste u stanju shvatiti kako se

bogatstvo krije u takvim ljudima. Šta bi

vi htijeli - da se udam zanekog pedera s

naočalima, koji redovno onaniše u zahodu

279

Sead Mahmutefendić

bojeći se da prijevremena ne svrhi u

svoju ženu, koji ima cijelu bibli-oteku

što dinarskih što deviznih knjižica, što

će imati kravatu i čarape u istoj boji,

što će me cijelu godinu do besvijesti

varati po nekim jeftinim motelskim

sobama, na sat dva, sa nekim fufama i

vrtiguzicama, a za Dan žena će mi

donositi najskuplje bukete ruža umotane

u providni celofan. O, Bože! Bili to

htijela da mi čini moj suprug kao što je

to tebi činio tvoj? Hm! Čovjeka baš

prisilite da sve prolita iz sebe.

- Milena, pazi kako se pred ocem

izražavaš! - upozori je mati.

- Što on nije pazio kako se

ponaša pred mojom majkom - odbrusi

Milena.

280

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Mati briznu u plač. Pa istom otrča

u sobu da se smiri. Sva sreća što Daut

bješe izišao u šetnju.

- Poturaš mi pod nos ogledalo i

porediš me s kojekakvim ćopavim

vucibatinama! - razbjesni se otac.

- A vi treba da znate da ja u

sebi nosim njegovo dijete i neću da

čujem da se govori protiv moga muža -

stavi Milena čep na svaki daljnji

razgovor.

- Eto ti ga pa budi sretna s njim

koliko hoćeš - diže otac ruke i odmahnu

prstima kao da je tjera od sebe.

Ona primijeti da on, sav očajan,

iziđe iz sobe za dnevni boravak, što je

bio znak da je shvatio njen udarac, te

da je pomiren sa sudbinom da mu se kćer

281

Sead Mahmutefendić

zaista udala za tamo nekog... ni prezime

mu još ne zna čestito izgovoriti. Neće

ga nikad on ni prevaliti preko usta.

- Bože blagi, pa imaj djecu!

Najsretniji su jalovi - uzdahnu punica.

10.

Kako su nepouzdane patetika, zanos

i sreća zbog plitkosti mozga i

neopreznosti srca.

Milena imaše utisak da Daut nije

davao neki poseban značaj onom incidentu

što ga je imala s roditeljima, i to sve

zbog njega. Nije ona htijela praviti

heroja pred njim ali je on tako izgleda

shvatio i tako tumačio tu njenu

prenemagajuću priču o svojoj žrtvi.

282

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Čuvaj se obilježenih!

Kad bi god osjetila i primjetila

neku njegovu nepažlji-vost ili

ravnodušnost prema njoj, koliko je god

mogla, susprezala je sebe da mu to ne

prebaci. U vrijeme medenog mjeseca njoj

su se, na tako nešto, oči punile suzama,

a njegove riječi su je boljele i

vrijeđale pogađajući je izravno u srce.

Tada je jedinu utjehu tražila u

prebiranju bakine krunice, moleći se

Svevišnjem da joj dadne snage da s

uspjehom održi trudnoću do kraja.

283

Sead Mahmutefendić

Daut joj je sve manje odobravao

tako nešto, pa ju je jednom nazvao

nepravednom, jer ona svoje probleme može

jedino riješiti s njim, a nikako s

Bogom, pošto je problem do njega a ne do

onog koji je dalek i ravnodušan. Tu se

on htio pozvati na povijest, na što je

ona hladno odmahnula rukom u znak da bar

šuti kad neke stvari nije u stanju

shvatiti.

On joj je sa strane posmatrao

profil, te njena sklopljena žablja usta.

Izraz njen bio mu je dalek, pun hladne

tuge, neprijazan i podrugljiv. Ako ga je

išta moglo smetati u takvim prilikama,

bili su to njeni izljevi ljutnje i plača

u kojima joj se obavezno gubio glas do

promuklosti, što njoj ni najmanje nije

284

Suze Dauta Arfadžana smetalo da i dalje priča najgroznije

gluposti koje je za sebe govorio da su

samo priviđenja i ništa više. Ali,

najzanimljivije u svemu ovom bila je

činjenica što se on, nakon njene

obavezne ture plača, osjećao ugodno u

njenoj prisutnosti da se morao

poprilično potruditi kako ne bi nad tom

grotesknom grimasom lica prasnuo u

smijeh, te je krajnjom snagom morao

obuzdavati uglove svojih usana i

zamišljati neke tragične ili morbidne

situacije iz svog života. To bi bilo

zaista neozbiljno; Uostalom, to bi bilo

u potpunoj suprotnosti s njegovim duhom

i naravi.

Prvih dana, ona je plakala,

zaklonjena maramicom, mada je njemu

285

Sead Mahmutefendić

izgledalo potpuno neshvatljivo koliko je

energije i revnosti u tom krhkom tijelu.

Znao je da će ta komedija biti okončana

za sat, najviše dva, da će biti

obostrano izmi-jenjena bujica glupih i

djetinjastih optužbi, da će on morati na

kraju popustiti - ta ona je u drugom

stanju, a ne on! - I obećati joj da će

se promijeniti, a ona mu, zauzvrat,

priznati da je ovako njeno ponašanje

vjerovatno zbog tog “glupog drugog

stanja”. “Biće da je to to” - odmah će

se Daut složiti s njom, znajući da već

sutradan ovo isto sve valja ponoviti

izpočetka. I tako će biti skoro svaki

dan.

Pri oproštaju, stisnuće oni jedno

drugom ruku. Dok bude sjedila, ona će mu

286

Suze Dauta Arfadžana mazno prisloniti glavu na trbuh, potom

će se dignuti i zagrliti ga. Na kraju je

poljubac, koji dolazi kao melem na

ustreptali, nervozni duh i tijelo umorno

od gluposti i djetinjarija. Krevet...

one stvari... smijeh, šale na svoj

račun, to je to glupo drugo stanje, i

tako dalje, šta da pričamo i meljemo kad

nam je sad lijepo.

Ista priča iz dana u dan, ista

scenografija, nešto drugačiji scenarij.

Limunada. Limuntoz.

Smirenu, zadovoljnu i znojavu

ostavljao bi je u postelji. Nakon što se

oprao od znoja i sjemena, odlazi on do

radnog stola gdje ga čekaju njegove

bilješke uredno raspoređene po

plastičnim fasciklama. Tu su radni

287

Sead Mahmutefendić

naslovi svih zamišljenih budućih knjiga.

Ima ih trenutno petnaest, što proze, što

poezije, što drama, što eseja. Tu su i

neke nabacane ideje za buduće filmske

scenarije.

On svečano sjeda na stolicu, prije

toga stavivši pernati jastuk ispod

zadnjice da mu bude mekše i polagano

skida kapicu s penkala. Potom, dugo

isčitava ispisane retke. Pola od toga

neće uopće razumjeti što je tim

rečenicama mislio izreći, jer su one

napisane u bunilu, negdje iza ponoći dok

je bio sam, užasno sam i nesretan, a on

je sad sretan, ima suprugu, uskoro će i

dijete imati. Odakle mu samo ovakve

užasne i morbidne misli? Osjećao se on

zbog toga čamotno. On pročita i jedan

288

Suze Dauta Arfadžana duhovit zaključak iz svog dnevnika da je

njemu dovoljna samo jedna rečenica,

možda i riječ, pa da mu tok razmišljanja

istog trena bude potpuno skrenut sa

zacrtane ideje.

Sinoć ju je opet sanjao. U pidžami

je prišao papiru i zapisao: Sinoć sam je

opet sanjao i shvatio - Lea je moj život!

Bio je zadovoljan ovakvim

poretkom riječi i interpunkcijom.

I jest moj život, pomisli on.

Bezsumnje da jest.

U njemu se javi volja za životom.

Ima lijepu i zgodnu ženu. Profesor je.

Uskoro će i dijete dobiti. Šta bi htio

više! Drugi nemaju ni to.

289

Sead Mahmutefendić

S respektom i nezdravim uzbuđenjem,

Daut je razmišljao o sebi, ali ga nimalo

ne iznenadi kad umjesto maloprijašnje

lagode ušulja se, najprije, sjeta, potom

gorak podsmjeh samom sebi, čamotinja i

na kraju onaj mu dobro poznat osjećaj

gađenja i samoprezira. To ga sasvim

rastrijezni. Pomisli: Jedino sam bio

čovjek kad sam volio. Prestao sam biti

čovjek. Ne znam hoću li ponovo to

postati. Moram, ako sam to ikad bio.

Moram, pa makar mislio da se sve urotilo

protiv mene: i ljudi, i priroda, i tašto

tijelo, i duša moja. Ako ne uspijem,

utoliko gore po mene. Jao onda meni!

Preostaće mi da bar ljudski uzdahnem ili

da vrisnem.

290

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Čemu će mi ta licemjerna, cinična i

jalova utjeha? Već je odavno iz mene

izčilio osjećaj krivice jer više ne znam

kad griješim. Idiotski sam se zaljubio u

sebe. To je ljubav na prvi pogled i iz

interesa. Kao skupljen talog, u meni je

čamotinja i nezadovoljstvo. Strah me je

i duša mi je gladna ljudske riječi.

Osjećam se krivim za tu glad. Ne mogu

mrdnuti a da ona ne ruje po meni. I kad

je suvišna, te mislim da sam čist, ona

je tu, tek toliko da me opomene. Muči

me, muči me. Odakle joj tolika moć da

vlada sa mnom? Jesam li je genima

naslijedio od predaka? Šta li su to oni

tako sramno uradili da i pokoljenja

moraju ispaštati njihovu krivicu? Pa i

kad se svega odreknem, ja je osjećam

poput dosadne bolesti. 291

Sead Mahmutefendić

Danas sam se osjetio krivim što

ranije nisam umro. Bolje bi bilo da se

nikad nisam ni rodio. Sad sam tu, ljudi

i vrijeme me zloupotrebljavaju. Dogodi

mi se da me ovakvog nesigurnog i

nespremnog najednom opahne odnekud

sreća; ostalo je, uglavnom, bol i

šutnja, čamotno iščekivanje i još

ponešto. Da li i u što vjerujem? Mislim

da se ipak nečemu nadam, jer šta bi me

toliko zadržavalo da napokon okončam.

Danas sam na papiru zapisao ideju za

jednu novelu. Bračni par živi skladno.

Počinju ženina sumnjičenja u njegovu

vjernost. Usput, njoj se čini da novac

nekud bestraga nestaje. Ne zna da ih

dijete potkrada. Njena sumnjičenja

pronalaze dokaze za svoju ljubomoru.

292

Suze Dauta Arfadžana Dakle, misli ona, sve je jasno - novac

ide na ljubavnicu. Happyenda nema.

Lakrdija završava tragično...

11.

Bio je to pravi događaj za mjesto u

koje je Daut stigao jednog rominjavog

oktobarskog poslijepodneva. Sredina je

mjeseca, oblaci bjehu nisko spušteni,

tako da su se doimali kao da ih je neko

porazapinjao od brda do brda, što je još

više izazivalo i pojačavalo tjeskobu i

opću čamotinju.

Odjednom se našao ispred čovjeka,

seljački i prosto odjevenog, naočita

izgleda te pažljivo izbrijana lica, koje

se rumenilo od svježeg vazduha i obilne

hrane. Očito bješe da je od nekog dobio

293

Sead Mahmutefendić

zadatak da sačeka novog profesora

latinskog jezika i da mu se nađe, u

prvoj prilici, na usluzi. Daut je

računao s ovakvom mogućnošću, pa ga

ispru-žena seljakova ruka nije osobito

iznenadila niti začudila. Samo što se

pozdraviše, Bogdan - kako seljaku bješe

ime - primijeti da je autobus prilično

kasnio i to vjerovatno zbog odrona

ceste, koji je nastao još prije dva dana

usljed obilnih kiša što su nemilice

padale zadnjih nekoliko dana.

Kada mu čovjek preuze prtljag iz

ruku i saopći mu da će ga odnijeti u

hotelsku sobu iznad mjesne kafane, Daut

isti čas zaželi poslati familiji

telegram u kojem, bi ih obavijestio o

svom namještenju na mjesto profesora u

294

Suze Dauta Arfadžana ovdašnjoj gimnaziji. Ujedno će

iskoristiti priliku da im s jednom

rečenicom zahvali na materijalnoj i

moralnoj pomoći u vrijeme njegovih

studija i da im se izvine što je odbio

već osigurano mjesto kojeg su mu oni

odmah pronašli. Objašnjenje će biti

jednostavno: odlučio je započeti

karijeru u sredini u kojoj nije živio,

pa prema tome, niti je poznaje. To je za

njega izazov i... šta imam više

objašnjavati? Izazov i gotovo!

Ne voli podučavati tamo gdje ga svi

poznaju, što bi, svakako, moglo loše

uticati na njegovu spremnost da do kraja

i u potpunoj mjeri sprovede u djelo ono

što već sad unaprijed zamišlja. Razumije

se da on nije nalazio nikakvo

295

Sead Mahmutefendić

zadovoljstvo u činjenici što na oca ni

najmanje neće ubjedljivo djelovati nove

okolnosti, pa će on ljutnju i

povrijeđenu taštinu pokušati zasnovati

na pretpostavci i uvjerenju da je to

više Dautova nezgrapna i diskretna

isprika i izgovor, a ne razumni razlozi

da bi se počela karijera u tamo nekoj

selendri, bogu iza leđa. Još se usuđuje

reći - karijera. Silna perspektiva! Pih!

Da bar zna slagati, nego ni to.

Znao je Daut da će on pred maćehom

reći: “To je sranje, a ne karijera!

Bolje bi mu bilo da je čoban u tom selu,

nego to što jeste. Tamo takve daleko

više uvažavaju. Uostalom, sa stadom bi

više zaradio s djecom”.

296

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Uvijek je on tako ružno govorio za

stvari za koje nije imao razumijevanja,

ili pak kada mu se činilo da se čovjek

nečim želi izmotavati.

- Reci mi, majka mu stara, da se

hoćeš zezati - podražavao je Daut u sebi

očev glas. - Reci lijepo: Hoću se

zajebavati. Problema nema. Svaka čast!

Samo me oslobodi riječi - karijera.

Osjeti Daut nelagodu što se na tako

kukavički način, preko riječi, bez

gledanja oči u oči s ocem i maćehom,

mora suprotstaviti njihovoj volji da

živi uz njih. Uostalom, to se od njega

oduvijek očekivalo. Ni u jednoj prilici

on nije davao ničim do znanja da

nagovijesti kako se želi odvojiti od

njih te želi živjeti sam ili s nekim

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Sead Mahmutefendić

drugim. Svejedno. Ili pak, da otvoreno

iznese svoju ideju kako želi upoznati

život na selu. Odavno je on u sebi

računao s takvom mogućnošću da ostvari

svoja sanjarenja, samo što nikad nije

imao toliko dovoljno hrabrosti da to

objelodani nekom živom stvoru tu svoju

zamisao, već una-prijed

pretpostavljajući do kakvih bi

reperkusija mogla dovesti ta njegova

namjera i na kakvo će energično suprot-

stavljanje, zgražanje i ogovaranje naići

kod familije i po-znanika. Na očevo

nepovoljno reagovanje nije se vrijedilo

ni trošiti u pretpostavkama.

Ipak, na putu do pošte, koja bješe

nedaleko od auto-buske stanice, on se

predomisli, te na šalteru zatraži od

298

Suze Dauta Arfadžana službenika jedan obrazac telegrama. Na

njemu nažvrlja štampanim slovima da se

zaposlio u gimnaziji, da ne brinu i da

pismo slijedi.

Po povratku u hotel, Daut htjede

izmiriti račun na recepciji za sljedeću

sedmicu, ali recepcionar ljubazno sleže

ramenima i reče mu da je iz škole

javljeno da će oni snositi troškove

njegovog boravka dok mu se ne pronađe

kakav stančić za prvu priliku. Seljak ga

je čekao s njegovim prtljagom ispred

pokretnih staklenih vrata. Kad uđoše u

sobu i samo što odloži stvari na pod, on

Dautu napomenu, ne bez lukavog i

opreznog osmješka, kako mu je direktor

Zlojutro lično rekao ako nije toliko

299

Sead Mahmutefendić

umoran da skokne do njega u školu kako

bi već danas neke detalje utanačili.

- On vas tamo već očekuje, pa ako

bi mogli, ne bi loše bilo - snebivao se

Bogdan gužvajući kapu među prstima.

- Mogu, kad vi kažete -

dvosmisleno reče Daut.

- Hvala vi - reče u zanosu

polaskani Bogdan.

Krenuše obojica prema školi.

Prođoše između dvije stambene zgrade,

potamnjelih i oljuštenih zidova. Ugleda

Daut sivu kuću na brežuljku. Osjeti

kišu. Primijetivši da će pojačati, njih

dvojica ubrzaše korak, a odmah potom

dadoše se u trk.

300

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Kao u bukvaru, mislio je Daut dok

je u trku posmatrao školu.

12.

Sve se odigralo onako kako je to

Daut Arfadžan u više navrata zamišljao:

kako će stati pred direktora, koji

doduše nije bio onakav kakvog ga je

zamišljao, jer je ovaj imao bar sto oka,

te kako će se njihov razgovor više

ticati formalnih stvari, najviše oko

toga kad bi tdrebalo stupiti na posao.

U svemu ovom, ipak, nije mogao ni

pretpostaviti da će to uslijediti samo

nakon desetak minuta nakon što će

neiskren razgovor između njih dvoje

prekinuti školsko zvono i na taj način

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Sead Mahmutefendić

obadvojicu osloboditi suvišnih emocija i

uvjeravanja u svoju čestitost i časnost.

Ljudeskara od direktora mu se

diskretno približila, nadnijevši se

cijelim tijelom preko svog radnog stola,

podnijela mu pod nos svoju čupavu glavu

i male, pseće uši iz kojih je izbijao

čkalj dlačurina, te mu svojim

levantinskim, zejtinastim očicama

uputila lukav, omalovažavajući osmi-

ješak, kao da pred njim stoji nespreman

učenik na ispitu, jasno stavljajući na

znanje da ne bi bilo loše ako bi već sad

uzeo imenik i s njim otišao u razred u

kojem, kako čuje, eno divlja trideset i

sedmero učenika.

- Mogu, kad vi kažete - reče Daut

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Ovaj put to nije izgovorio

dvosmisleno kao maloprije pred Bogdanom,

već odlučno i udarnički. - Nema

problema!

Imenik, koji bješe ranije poručen

da ga donesu u direktorovu kancelariju,

donese poslužiteljka.

Nije volio Daut takve teatralne

nastupe. On je više cijenio i strogost

izraza, pa makar mu ona i ne godila,

nego eufemizme zalivene diskretnom

lukavošću.

S rukama u džepovima od pantalona,

noseći imenik pod miškom, on uđe u

razred. Slučaj je htio da se baš u tom

trenutku trojica mladića bjehu okupili

oko neke učenice koja imaše ogromne

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Sead Mahmutefendić

grudi i koja nije znala kako se

odbraniti, nevješto držeći otvoren gard.

- Hoće da me siluju!... Manijaci!

- derala se ona iz sve snage.

U sred te buke i opće galame stajao

je Daut, pomalo zbunjen, pomalo ogorčen

ovim prizorom što vidi pred sobom. Na

pomisao da se tako nešto događa u školi

i to ne, već eto, u seoskoj školi, na

licu mu se ukaza izraz kojeg ima

“obično” iznenađen i naivan čovjek;

poprilično glup, te usta otvorenih.

- Neka vas hiljadu i jedan đavo

nosi - reče on dovoljno glasno da ga

njemu najbliži čuju.

- Ko je sad ovaj tu! - upita

jedan od one trojice mladića.

304

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Većina učenika se okrenu prema

njemu. U drugom kraju razreda još su

larmali i tjerali jedni druge po

klupama.

- Koji si ti? - upita Dauta drugi

mladić.

- Ja sam vaš novi profesor -

odgovori Daut.

Učenici složno prasnuše u smijeh.

Jedino se nije uspi-jevala snaći u novoj

situaciji djevojka koja je ravno gle-

dala Dauta u oči ne spuštajući gard s

grudi.

- Spusti to -reče joj Daut.

- Hoćeš ti malo! - pokaza mu

učenik očima na nju.

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Sead Mahmutefendić

Daut osjeti da bi uskoro mogao

izgubiti svaku pri-sebnost. Bio je ljut

na sebe što je odmah na početku dozvolio

da mu se obraćaju kao da je on neki

mangup. Nije znao niti je bio siguran

kako bi se valjalo ponijeti u ovom

drenutku: da li prihvatiti njihovo

peckanje i zadirkivanje ne dajući im do

znanja da ga je njihova zloga poprilično

pokolebala ili će stvar odmah, na licu

mjesta, preuzeti u svoje ruke tako što

će najstrožijim glasom narediti svima da

odu na svoja mjesta ili će, pak, otići

do direktora u njegovu kancelariju i

požaliti mu se na nepristojnost kojom su

ga dočekali učenici u razredu.

Eventualne zamjerke na takvu svoju

reakciju moći će pravdati napornim

306

Suze Dauta Arfadžana putovanjem i umorom kojeg je prilično

osjećao.

Uglavnom, znao je da vremena za

razmišljanje nema na pretek. Trebalo je

reagovati onako kako oni ne očekuju:

iznenaditi ih i zateći ih. Ako to ne

učini, moći će ubuduće mirne duše

dolaziti sa mašionkom u razred i opet

neće biti ništa.

- Ovaj je još veće kino od druga

Rećemo - reče jedan visoki, štrkljavi

mladić pun gnojnih prištića po licu.

Kosa mu biješe jaka i rudlava, pramenovi

su mu padali po čelu pa je gledao u

Dauta kao foksterijer. Njihovu bockastu

veselost Daut je, bez sumnje, morao

doživljavati kao svoju inferi-ornost,

jer je ona već sada počela prelaziti u

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Sead Mahmutefendić

intimnu indiskretnost, pa je još samo

nedostajalo da ne pređe u opću lakrdiju.

Očevidno je bilo da ga je na to

podstrekavala njihova galama, odvratnost

prema ovoj vrsti đačke osvetoljubivosti,

koja je počinjala bivati neljudska. Svi

oni zajedno pokušaće što više

iskoristiti ovu njegovu zbunjenost i ne-

snalažljivost, koja je dobila groteskne

razmjere zbog nje-govih jalovih i

glupavih osmijeha. Njima ih je nastojao

više odobrovoljiti, pa čak i dodvoriti

im se, nego što je iskreno osjećao da je

nešto ovdije uistinu smiješno.

U ovakvom općem smijanju, oni ga

nisu htijeli izjed-načiti sa sobom, već

su ga htjeli uniziti. Takav ispit morao

je polagati u ovoj školi svaki novi 308

Suze Dauta Arfadžana nastavnik, a evo, sad mu se trebao

ophrvati i Daut. Glup je bio što je

pristao da ga ovako umornog nasankaju i

ubace ravno među ovu divljač.

On naredi da odu u klupe. Na

njegovo znenađenje, oni ga poslušaše.

pođe i on ka katedri nesigurnim korakom.

Sad se bojao mogućnosti da će oni

primijetiti njegovo šepesanje i to će

kod njih, vjerovatno, izazvati još veći

smijeh, možda i sažaljiv prezir na kojeg

ne bi mogao ostati ravnodušan. Nekima se

to, na njegovu žalost, dogodilo da uoče

taj tjelesni nedostatak. Gurkanjem

laktovima i koljenima, te striganjem

očima skretali su pažnju ostalima. Prije

nego što se uspio dokopati katedre,

osjeti Daut kako mu neko postavi nogu

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Sead Mahmutefendić

pod onu njegovu zdravu u trenutku kad je

svu težinu tijela prenosio na onu

bolesnu. On izgubi ravnotežu, tijelo mu

krenu kapodu. Imenik odbaci u stranu

kako bi imao slo-bodne ruke da se dočeka

na njih. To bi mu zasigurno i uspjelo da

ga neko u onoj gužvi ne odgurnu, te on

pade cijelom težinom na stranu.

Opći i zluradi smijeh zaori se

razredom. Ali, samo trenutak kasnije,

kao da učenici osjetiše da su pretjerali

u neobuzdanoj lakrdiji. Zavlada tišina i

napeto isčekivanje.

Daut otvori razrednu knjigu na onoj

stranici gdje je virila plava traka.

Lagano je ispisivao nastavnu jedinicu za

taj sat. Pritiskao je pero uz papir da

se ne primijeti kako mu ruka drhti. Sva 310

Suze Dauta Arfadžana sreća po njega što je katedra naprijed

pregradu od šperploče, te mu se nisu

mogle vidjeti noge koje su se tresle od

uzbuđenja.

Kad ispisa i stavi svoj paraf u dnu

rubrike, pažljivo zavi kapicu na

penkalo, kojeg potom odloži kraj

sklopljene knjige. Onda, najednom,

ustade i uputi se prema zadnjoj klupi

odakle ga je naticao na pogled onaj

visoki mladić jake i rudlave kose.

- Ti si ono maloprije učinio? -

upita ga Daut. Nastojao je da djeluje

što mirnije. Potrudio se da mu glas bude

baršunast kako bi na učenike ostavio što

uvjerljiviji dojam.

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Sead Mahmutefendić

Mladić udahnu vazduh kako bi mu

mogao odgovoriti glasom isto tako

dubokim i baršunastim: “Ja, pa šta?”

Razred se još jedanput nasmija na

njegovo efektno i drsko imitiranje.

Daut ga pažljivo zagleda sa strane,

a onda, onako kamenog izraza na licu,

zamoli ga da mu oslobodi pola sto-lice

kako bi mogao sjesti uz njega. Mladić se

okrenu, izne-nađen njegovom molbom.

Oklijevao je tren-dva a potom se po-

mjeri malo u stranu. Daut sjede uz njega

okrenuvši mu leđa.

Prava je bila sreća i neobično

povoljna okolnost što su svi bili

iznenađeni ovakvom njegovom reakcijom.

Bilo je neophodno da je održi u ovako

312

Suze Dauta Arfadžana neprijatnom slučaju i učini nešto što je

zbilja bilo potrebno učiniti, te odlučno

inter-venisati prije nego se iz svega

ovog ne izvrgne nešto što se više nikad

neće zaliječiti. Sve bi to kasnije

doživljavo na daleko neprijatniji način,

trebalo je dobro glavom promućka-ti time

što će je pokušati ostaviti hladnom a

sebe održati pribranim.

Tišina je trajala hiljadu godina.

Neko je pokuša pre-kinuti smijuljenjem,

ali bješe očito da se sad ne može ići

tim putom.

Čekala se Dautova riječ.

- Vidite - u potpunoj tišini i

isčekivanju mentalno odjeknu njegov glas

- ima jedna stvar na početku ovog našeg

natezanja koju bi pokušao odmah

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Sead Mahmutefendić

riješiti. Pazite: ja sam došao ovdje a

da mi se nije ni dolazilo. Crijeva su,

izgle-da, tako naredila i nadam se da tu

ne bi trebalo biti neke veće diskusije.

Vi ste ovdje jer su vam naredili da

dođete ovdje, obećavši vam da ćete bolje

živjeti ako završite školu. Mislim da je

to sasvim u redu, ako ne uspijete usput

saznati i doznati za neke druge stvari,

koje škola niti je u stanju, niti vam

namjerava otkriti. Koga zanima, moraće

se sam potruditi da na svojim leđima

spozna laži kojim su vas dosad šopali, a

i odsad će vas šopat i šopat će vas dok

god bude škole. To je, dakle, prva

stvar. Drugo. Vidim da me niste baš

srdačno dočekali. Normalno je da je to

vaša stvar ili stvar vaše frustracije.

314

Suze Dauta Arfadžana Ako vi uopće znate šta znači riječ

frustracija. To vam pravo ne može niko

oduzeti. Može jedino uskratiti, ali ćeš

onda biti prisiljen psovati u sebi

profesoru mater. I to kojem profesoru?

Onom kojeg društvo ponižava mizernom

platom, kojem je dodijelilo građanstvo

drugog reda po onome što mu daje i

onome što mu priznaje, onom profesoru

koji je pun kurijih očiju po nogama od

izno-sanih cipela sa šupljim đonovima i

kome je u glavi težina njegove svinje

koju će on zaklati na Božić preča nego

nekakvi logaritmi i neki nesretni

pjesnici, čija će te vi samoubistva

uzimati da je čovjek, jednostavno,

otegao papke. Međutim, koristim svoje

pravo čovjeka, koji je doveden u

situaciju da se mora braniti, da od vas315

Sead Mahmutefendić

zahtijevam da mi više nikad ne priredite

ovakvu svinjariju. Ukoliko se to,

ubuduće, i dogodi - pa makar i slučajno

- smatraću da ste drski. Ako neko bude

toliko drzak, kao ovaj tu dečko koji mi

je maloprije podmetnuo nogu, uzeću to za

otvoren izazov. I, treće. O sebi vam

neću mnogo govoriti. Reći ću vam samo

ovo:

2. Mene je ulica vaspitala. Moji

učitelji bili su lopovi,

kukavice i lumpenproleteri.

3. Tri puta sam izbacivan iz

škole tako da mi ovaj slino,

moj sadašnji sijamski

blizanac, ne bi bio u stanju

ni cipele očistiti.

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

4. Studije sam proveo među

kockarima i kriminalcima.

Ako se nekog pribojavam u životu,

može me samo biti strah samog

sebe. Nije me ni briga što će

biti sutra od mene, jer mi je

strašno dosadno i mučno na

koju god se stranu okrenem.

Može me oduševiti lijepa,

iskrena i obična ljudska

riječ. To mi, da stvar bude

gora, tek predstavlja pravi

problem. Bojim se da neću biti

u stanju odgovoriti istom

mjerom. Među zlima dišem punim

plućima. Među dobrima dišem na

škrge.

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Sead Mahmutefendić

- A to - okrenu se on prema rudlavom

mladiću - tebi ću pred tvojim drugarima

reći dvije stvari: što tije ono

maloprije trebalo kad ja dobro vidim iz

tvojih očiju da si ti dobar čovjek, samo

što si povodljiv i daš se nasamariti.

Nećeš dobro proći u životu ako ostaneš

takav. Druga stvar će ti biti odmah

valjda jasna: ako me ti ili bi ko drugi

fizički ili verbalno povrijedi, neće

ništa valjati. Ovo ne govorim što volim

i cijenim sebe, već što nemam živaca da

osluškujem i osjetim da neko talasa u

mojoj blizini. Ako vam je dosadno, neka

dosada bude bar otmjena. Valja imati

stila i za nju. Još sinoć, negdje pred

ponoć, ja sam pobjegao iz jednog

osinjaka što se zove Studentski grad.

318

Suze Dauta Arfadžana Gotovo istog trenutka, kad on završi,

oglasi se zvono za kraj sata. Učenici se

ni ne pomjeriše sa svojih mjesta. Bješe

sasvim očito da ih se dojmila Dutova

priča.

Daut uze imenik i pođe ka vratima, a

onda na peti zdrave noge učini poluokret

i svima se naceri: “Ne dajte da vas

zavedu moje riječi. Sve sam ovo govorio

iz straha da vas neću moći kontrolisati.

Lagao sam vas, cure moje i momci. Jeste

li vi cura i momak na bobak, bobak puče,

cura uteče!” Učenici u zanosu još jednom

prasnuše u smijeh. Bili su u prijatnoj i

lagodnoj zbunjenosti. Takvog čovjeka još

nisu vidjeli.

Genijalac!

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Sead Mahmutefendić

- Ako hoće neko zajebavati, bili ga vi

ubili? - upita neko iz gomile učenika.

- Ako bi se takav našao, taj ne bi bio u

stanju to provjeriti - odgovori spremno

Daut. - A da to drugi za njega učine,

mislim da im se ne bi isplatilo.

Istog časa on se uozbilji kao kakav

satrap, ali tako vješto i namjerno da su

tu njegovu gestu mogli i morali svi

uočiti.

Probijajući se hodnikom između učenika,

on pomisli: Moji su, imam ih. Uspio sam

ih obmanuti. Još za vrijeme ovog odmora

raskukurikaće po cijeloj školi ovu moju

priču. Ne daj Bože da neko dokuči da sam

sve ovo kompletno slagao.

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

13.

S odraslima je išlonešto drugačije.

Niko, razumije se, nije poricao novom

kolegi umješnost kojom je uspijevao

pridobiti naklonost učenika. Naravna

stvar da je to nesum-njivo moralo

ostaviti izvjesnog prostora ogovaranju

povrije-đenih i ljubomornih, a uz to i

taštih duhova, koji su u tom neskrivenom

i oduševljenom izljevu đačkih simpatija

prona-lazili prijekor na račun njih

samih, te su svim načinima pokušavali

obezvrijediti svog novog kolegu bilo

kakvim ne-prizornim znakom. Izgleda

možda čudno da se na ove primjedbe Daut

nije osvrtao, već naprotiv ako bi ih

kojim slučajem i čuo, on bi potvrđivao

njihove sudove preko nekih trećih lica

što su oni neko vrijeme prenosili onima321

Sead Mahmutefendić

na koje se to odnosilo. Normalno da je

to neke ostavljalo zbunjene, dok bi

drugi to tumačili njegovom lukavošću, a

treći bi ga, jedno-stavno, držali za

najobičnijeg lakrdijaša koji nije

dostojan da se o njemu ozbiljno

razmišlja. “To što on čini u razredu,

nema blage veze s pedagogijom. To je

pozorište! Farsa! Cirkus! To više govori

kako je ovo društvo koje dozvoli tako

nešto nego kakav je on”.

I pored svog ogovaranja, Daut je i

dalje, prilikom ula-ska u zbornicu,

upućivao pozdrav prisutnima preletjevši

smiješkom od stolice do stolice. U

takvim prilikama njegov pogled obično bi

odlutao i nešto se više zadržavao u dnu

prostorije gdje je sjedila Vanda. Njene

322

Suze Dauta Arfadžana oči bi, takođe, samo kliznule i okrznule

se s njegovim, ali samo toliko koliko je

trebalo da mu na njih odgovori. To je

izvodio vješto, s rasijanom

ravnodušnošću, da se ona ponekad pitala

da li ona, možda, neumjesno reaguje s

jakim crvenilom na licu. To su, ubrzo,

morali primijetiti i drugi, jer je ono

odudaralo od bjeline njene sjajne kose.

Tako je prošlo izvjesno vrijeme -

dvije do tri sedmice.

Biješe nastupio novembar - veoma

sunčan i ljubak za ovo doba godine.

Skoro će polovica jeseni, a dani su

topli kao i ljeti. Doduše, posljednjih

dana na TV je bilo nagovještaja kiša,

ali je hladan val i ovaj puta zaobišao

ove krajeve navješćujući samo nešto

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Sead Mahmutefendić

vlage u vazduhu. No za to nije niko

mario pa se jesenjski svijet u

okasnjelom ljetu nudio svakom

preduzimljivom duhu.

Preko hrome čistačice, tačno

poslije šestog časa, Daut dobi obavijest

na papiru da ga Vanda očekuje zajedno s

društvom u mjesnoj kafani. Tamo će i

ručati, a nakon toga će svi autom otići

na izlet. Dautu se učini ponuda nešto

indi-skretnom, ali nije imao volje da u

njoj traži način da ko-načno učini

prirodnije i prijateljskije njihove

odnose, niti neku skrivenu poruku kojom

bi ga Vanda pozivala k sebi.

Kad završi zadnji čas, on pođe ka

kafani prečicom preko travnjaka. Čim ga

ugledaše, već dobro zagrijani, digoše 324

Suze Dauta Arfadžana ruke u znak dobrodošlice, te se brže-

bolje razmakoše trpajući mu do Vande

slobodnu stolicu. Tu se stvori i nečija

ruka, ispružena s kraja stola, da mu

napuni vino u čašu.

Sto trideset kilograma težak,

sjedio je zavaljen u sto-licu direktor

Zlojutro i otresao pepeo s cigarete na

novo novcato odijelo. Mada je soptao, on

je govorio glasno, vrlo šaljivo i

slikovito o učenicima tako da su mu se

svi za stolom svaki čas morali uglas

smijati. On je obilato kori-stio

uzbuđeno raspoloženje među profesorima

da ga još više ponese svojim vrcavim

pošalicama.

- Jer - veli on - kad sam se prvi

put pojavio među učenicima na pragu

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Sead Mahmutefendić

učionice, gledaju oni njega, gleda on

njih. Vidi on da su oni radi zajebavati,

ali prvo, kurve, čekaju šta će on

prozboriti. Jebiga, ne znaju oni još ko

sam ja. Izvučem ja kriomice antene na

svom releju da im uhvatim svaki herc.

Fatam ja njima talasnu dužinu. Gledam

ja, cimaju se oni laktovima; tek ti ja

vovim svojim dlakavim ušima ufatim šta

zbore. Velju, ko je ovo ovaj trbonja?

Vidi mu pekare! Ja velju, šta s’

igraš?... ti, ti u četvrtoj klupi, hoš

da mi nabiješ komplekse tim tvojim

pogledom? Koji si ti? Ko, jel ja? -

izdreljio on u mene oči ko zerdelije. -

Babin i majkin! - spika on meni. - Nemoj

da te dofatim iza uha pa ćeš d´ izgledaš

ko tarač. A jedan mene motri iz klupe,

326

Suze Dauta Arfadžana zino, vidim ja, ovom nisu sve na broju.

- Štas zinu, lafe? - izdreljim se ja

nanj, a on meni kar, kar-kare, jeebi ga

druže kako to u-huspjevaš sve to sa

sobom nohositi? Jehesi li ti malo u

stranu ili se ti prahaviš da si ti u

stranu pa ti mehene ko malo, ono ko

mehene? - Kažem ja njemu, a on meni ni

pet - ni šest pa će: što su meheni

šehega dehebeli, samo kad hi vidim mogo

bi se vahaljati od smijeha. Što su

meheni smjehešni dehebeli. Šta ti mehene

propituješ ko daha sam ja neheki

špihijun?

Crven u licu kao rak, fiskulturnik

Gruje se ubaci s primjedbom da je taj

momak Goran Ećimović radio prije na

benzinskoj pumpi i da je izbačen od tamo

327

Sead Mahmutefendić

zato što je uhvaćen nekoliko puta da

puši na radnom mjestu.

Slušaj sad, nastavi direktor

Zlojutro, ja mu predavo es-´a. Ne čita

niko, ko kad naš narod organski mrzi

knjigu. Kaže moj pašonok, nisam dijete

da čitam knjigu. Kolko voli pričati,

toliko mrzi knjigu. A taj Goran je

indeks za jugo-čitača. Vidim ja da niko

nije pročito ni slova, a ja ljepo: jedan

tebi, jedan tebi. Narogušili se oni,

streljaju me ispod oni svoji planinski

nastrešnica, samo im fale još ledenice,

a ne smije niko guknut. Dođem ja do

Gorana, spojim i ja svoje obrve, nema da

fali, dlaka bar imamo, pa ga pitam: jesi

l ti to čito? a on meni: Jehesam! E, kad

jehesi, što si čito? Viktora Hugu. Nije

328

Suze Dauta Arfadžana Hugo, već je Igo. On izvadi knjigu pa mi

je podnese pod oči, evo, kaže piše ljepo

Hugo. Hoću ja njemu da dam dvojku, pa mu

ništa ne velim, neka misli da je tačno

odgovorio. Niko u razredu da se nasmije.

Hugo? Hugo! Zna čoek, svaka čast.Dede,

velju ja njemu, pričaj mi nešto iz

knjige. To je tuhužna knjiga da ne

mohože bihiti tuhužnija. Šta ima tu biti

tužno? Tuhužno je kad je na crkvi

zvohonilo. To tebi tužno kad na crkvi

zvohoni? Znaš li bar kolko je bilo sati?

Sehedam. E baš nije sehedam nego ohosam.

Ja to reče a on za torbu da izvadi

knjigu. Znaham daha je bihilo sehedam da

him jehebem sehedam bohogova. Hoće li

biti sehedam? Jee-hest sii-higurno,

dahabogda nahašo sve mhrtvo i zahaklano

329

Sead Mahmutefendić

po kuhući ako nihije bihilo sehedam

sahati.

Gledam ja po razredu, niko se ne

smije. Čela ozbiljna ko ono u Tesle na

njegovoj bisti ispred Elektrotehničkog u

Beogradu.

- Aha - kažem ja - imaš ti Gorane

pravo, osam sati je zvonilo kod jednog

drugog pisca. Nema problema, vidi se da

si čito, stvarno je bilo sedam sati.

- Kahati kahažem.

- To je, Gorane, čista duja.

Zlojutro stade da otare znoj sa

čela. Društvo se smi-jalo još neko

vrijeme, a onda se svi stišaše i neko s

dna stola uzdahnu: “Ee, što se

ismijasmo. Suze me zališe.”

330

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Uliše Dautu vino u čašu. Opet

ponovi isti glas: “Ee, što se iskidasmo

od smijeha.”

- Njegova se sestra objesila

preklani - reče Drago.

- Svi su oni malo porodično -

primijeti Vanda.

- Vidite, druže direktore - javi se

Grujo - ja mnogo čitam časopise, knjige.

Jednostavno, mnogo čitam. Ja ih,

naprosto, gutam. Nema ni desetak dana,

čitam članak jednog američkog psihologa

da takvim ljudima tipa kao što je taj

Goran ne valja dozvoljavati razmahivanje

fantazije, jer ih ona može odvesti u

još, kako on tvrdi, viša stanja

šizofrenije i zavesti ih u više sfere

nerealnog i neade-kvatnog poimanja

331

Sead Mahmutefendić

objektivnog svijeta oko sebe. Strogošću

i pravilnim stavom će se na najbolji

način uspijeti spriječiti njihova

mentalna neobuzdanost i iracionalnost.

Nekontro-lisana demokratičnost ili pak

sažaljenje prema njima uzrok su njihovih

kasnijih halucinacija. U tom članku još

piše i to da to još više pospiješuje

njihovu nekontrolisanu fanta-ziju, koja

može otići do paranoje i do samog

ludila.

- To ti ko meni spuštaš? -

uozbilji se Zlojutro.

- Ne, ne, ne, ne, ne, nismo se

razumijeli, druže direktore - još se

više zacrveni Grujo. Ja sam čito...

332

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Nećemo sad ozbiljno - ubaci se

nekolicina glasova. - Lijepo smo se

nasmijali. Ti, Grujo, uvijek moraš

zasrati sa svojim teorijama i

pizdarijama.

- Kako to misliš: pizdarijama? -

izbuljene oči izdva-jale su mu se u

crvenilu lica. - Izvoli mi objasniti,

šta si misli s tim reći.

- Tako, lijepo: sereš kad god

zineš - odgovori mu isti glas - ne može

čovjek od tebe na miru ni čašu vina

popiti.

- Molim te da biraš rječnik -

upozori ga Grujo.

- Dobro, oprosti. Onda, kakiš!

Izvini, namjerno je. Da izvini. Ono ko

fin. Mi, vi, oni. 333

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Jesmo li već počeli ko da smo

na zboru kad se govori o plati? - diže

se hemičarka. L´jep imate rječnik. Nema

šta? Akademski građani.

- To su neologizmi, drugarice. -

reče Zlojutro. - To je naš lokalni

doprinos razbijanju standardnog

književnog jezika.

- Šta misli naš novi kolega? -

upita okrenuvši se izravno ka Dautu.

- Ne mislim ništa. - odgovori

Daut.

- Opa, bato. - zviznu neko. - Ova

mu je dobra.

- Mislim da vam je vino super, a

i jagnjetina, takođe - reče Daut.

334

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Volim konkretne ljude -

podvrisnu matematičar Ratko. - Dva i dva

su četiri. Ti ćeš, Grujo, reći da nisu

četiri.

- Ja ću to reći kao da je to

sedam manje tri - pokuša Grujo biti

duhovit.

- Što mi ovaj tip ide na kurac -

poluglasno je mumljao biolog Gojko sebi

u bradu.

- Ih, a tek meni - naceri se

direktor Zlojutro.

- Rajko, ljepotane, daj za ovaj

sto još pet litara - sav zajapuren

prodera se Hercegovac iz Gacka, profesor

iz OTO-a. - Vanda, dušo, kako ide

šljaka?

335

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Čekaj malo, ne viči, nismo sami

- prekori ga muzičarka.

- Šta, ne viči? - kaže Hercegovac

nešto tišim glasom. - Ja i Vanda smo

ratni drugovi sa Solunskog fronta. Je li

tako Vanda?

Vanda mu diskretno kimnu glavom.

- Jest, jest - pričao je Ratko

oko sebe - volim ja kad kažu da su dva i

dva četiri i kad mi kec naleti na

desetku. Sad ćemo mi, čim maknu ove

tanjire. Donio mi zet dva špila karata.

Šta je Vanda, da se nisi zacopala u tog

našeg novajliju?

- Sad se vidi, sad se zna, ko se

kome dopada! - stade društvo pljeskati.

- Alah selamet - okrenu Daut oči

ka nebu. 336

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Svi do jednog prasnuše u smijeh.

Dautu Arfadžanu olakšavala je

činjenica što je položaj stolica bio

takav da je on - sa svoje - mogao

posmatrati Vandu samo iskosa, imajući

pred sobom samo tri četvrtine njenog

profila. Usta su joj bila velika, pomalo

žablja, što je u njemu od prvog viđenja

izazivalo seksualnu pohotlji-vost. Usne

je imala debele i uvijek napadno ružom

namazane. Iznad gornje usne primijeti da

je imala brčiće, koje je vjerovatno

brijuckala i bijelila. Ruke su joj bile

stalno naprijed isturene, te su svo

vrijeme počivale na stolu, osim kad bi

htjela izvaditi paklo cigareta iz

torbice iz koje nikad nikom nije nudila.

337

Sead Mahmutefendić

Nokti su joj bili njegovani, šilja-ti i

obojeni zelenim lakom.

Na sve primjedbe, Vanda ostade

mirna. Jedini znak uzbu-dljive

zbunjenosti bješe to što je svako toliko

ispuhivala dim od cigarete uvis na

uglove usana. Bješe očito da je htjela

ostaviti utisak na društvo time što je

podešavala svoje gestove, delikatno

nijansirane, točno određene da bi

radoznale nasmijance i dalje držala u

nedoumici ne rekavši im ni da ni ne.

Ovakva njena gestikulacija sama po sebi

bila je najumjesnija i za nju i za njih,

pa i za Dauta, pa je samim tim još više

zabavljala društvo oko sebe. Žablje usne

bi se još malo više razvukle, a ona bi,

povremeno, tobože s prijekorom, dizala i

338

Suze Dauta Arfadžana lučila obrve. Usta su bila napola

otvorena, te je izgledalo da će svaki

čas nešto važno reći.

- Još večeras testiraće ga na

svom poligonu - šapnu Ratko Hercegovcu

na uho žvaćući punim ustima veći komad

janjetine.

- Aaa, joj Liko, žali li te iko!

- podvrisnu Herce-govac, tobože žaleći

Ratkove loše karte.

Kad god bi se razgovor dotakao

seksa, ne samo lice, već bi mu planula

cijela ćela, vrat i ruke, beonjače se

krvlju napunile i oči dobile

sladostrasan sjaj kao da u ulju plivaju.

Za njega je već prvi dan Daut Dragi

primijetio da ovakvi najvjerovatnije

svaki dan onanišu, a sutradan pričaju

339

Sead Mahmutefendić

najozbiljnijeg izraza lica s onom istom

koju je juče pod sobom zamišljao.

Društvo je posjedilo još dva sata.

Za to vrijeme popiše svo vino, bijehu

donešeni komadi torte puni jeftinog

marga-rina. Nakon crne kafe stadoše se

razilaziti.

Njih šestoro ostadoše za stolom:

Ratko, Hercegovac, Zlojutro, Grujo,

Vanda i Daut.

Ratko zapljeska prema konobaru

Rajku da im očisti sto, a onda iz džepa

izvadi dva nova špila karata. Naručiše

pivo, vinjak, kafu i mineralnu vodu. Još

od ranije znali su da Daut ne karta.

Njih četvoro se rasporediše kako će

sjediti. Kao i svi strastveni kockari,

340

Suze Dauta Arfadžana oni se svečano uozbiljiše i ušutiše čim

razdijeliše prve karte.

Na kraju stola ostali su Vanda i

Daut, prepušteni sami sebi. Daut

Arfadžan odmah pređe na stvar.

14.

Došao je mjesec travanj a s

njegovim prvim sunčanim danima sve je

više raslo Dautovo zadovoljstvo. Osjećao

se kao vitez na konju opijen blagodatima

života, te u neku ruku, odao je

priznanje na svemu onom što je priuštio

samom sebi tokom protekle zime. Teško bi

bilo reći i teško bi bilo pobrojati sve

ono o čemu je on razmišljao posljednjih

mje-seci, ali, uglavnom, sve se svodilo

na to da je to vrijeme živio onako kako

341

Sead Mahmutefendić

ni u snu ne bi predpostavio prije nego

što je došao u ovo mjesto. Nekoliko

činjenica izgledale su mu nemoguće: prvo

- da je mogao, uopće, ostati toliko

vremena u ovoj betinji, koju je ovlaš

poznavao tek imenom iz jedne Andrićeve

priče, a drugo - da je svojim dolasko,

bez svake sumnje, obzirom na svoj

karakter, unio izvjesno neraspolo-ženje,

podozrivost, ogovaranja i trabunjanja

kod pojedinih duhova koji su na primjer,

tumačili njegov flert s Vandom kao

sračunato vrijeđanje njih samih ili - u

najmanju ruku - podsmjehivanje i

šprdanje s njihovom curom. Jer, ipak,

Vanda su oni a oni su Vanda.

u svakom slučaju, Daut Arfadžan,

kao uviđavan čovjek, morao je ubrzo

342

Suze Dauta Arfadžana uočiti ovu zanimljivu primjedbu, te je

brže-bolje ograničio svoja viđenja s

Vandom na svega jedan ili dva usputna

razgovora dnevno. Tok tih razgovora

mogao se vrlo lako predpostaviti.

- Kolegice Nahod, mogu li vas

zamoliti u vezi s III/3 da mi pošaljete

učenika...

Potom će, sasvim tihim glasom, dok

šumno okreće listove imenika i ne

okrećući glavu u stranu njoj u profil

promrmljati: “Moramo se večeras

vidjeti!” “Kako?” - pitala je Vanda

mršteći se i govoreći naglas da je i

drugi čuju “Ne mogu vam, kolega

Arfadžan, dati Borovćanina. On je slab

učenik. Bolje mu je da bude prisutan na

satu.”

343

Sead Mahmutefendić

Nijedno od njih ni na trenutak nije

zbunjivala ova pritajena i lukava igra

pred ostalima koji su bili prisutni u

zbornici. Nije to bila ni u kom pogledu

neznatna i bespo-trebna stvar, jer je

ova njihova gluma mogla dati rezultate

koji bi izazvali pometnju.

Za sve to vrijeme njihovog

razgovora, Grujo se s dna stola

podrugljivo cerio, kao i obično -

uspaljenih obraza, sve dotle dok Daut

Arfadžan ne bi shvatio da ono ima za

cilj da ga upozori kako ih je oboje

“pročitao” i da su im badava sva ta

njihova glumatanja. Daut bi tad prilazio

uspaljenom Gruji te svečano mirnim

glasom pitao ga da li bi mogao doznati

344

Suze Dauta Arfadžana čemu se ta njegova individua toliko

pederski smije.

Vjerujući apsolutno u svoju

seljačku intuiciju da je prokužio stvar,

Grujo ga je posmatrao odozdo s

osjećanjem prezrive nadmenosti. U tom

pogledu, Daut nije mogao ništa drugo

shvatiti već se samo zadovoljiti

zaključkom da ima odvratne, svjetloplave

oči, koje su ga mirno i podozrivo

posmatrale. Daut s nelagodom utvrdi da

on uopće ne sumnja, već je uvjeren u ono

zbog čega se sad smješka.

Kakva drskost!

Njegov mu se smiješak učinio kao

osmješak, maloumnika, pa je stoga,

dabome, morao u jednom trenutku čak

osjetiti da ga njegova blizina naprosto

345

Sead Mahmutefendić

fizički muči. Oštrim riječima on dade

kolegi na znanje da mu smeta takvo

njegovo ponašanje i cerekanje na njegov

račun, spočitnuvši mu usput da je to

prilično drsko i nekulturno od njega.

Ako hoće - i nevaspitano! Na tu

primjedbu Gojko mu ne osta dužan, već mu

prigovori da je baš neodgojeno i

licemjerno od njega što blefira pred

kolegama držeći ih za ovce. “Ako ništa,

nekorektno je prema Vandi.”

Daut se okrenu, pogledom potraži po

zbornici Vandu koja bješe još ranije

otišla na sat.

- S tvojim tumačenjem gimnastike,

ljubavi, politike - unese se Daut Gruji

u lice, čineći mu kažiprstom kružiće

346

Suze Dauta Arfadžana ispred nosa - meni će bez greške jednog

dana skočiti ovoliki čir na stomaku.

- Čir ćete dobiti, dragi moj

kolega, zato što ste lukavi -

hladnokrvno primijeti Grujo.

Daut nije znao ništa pametnije da

nađe nego da rekne: “Ti ćeš da mi

kažeš?”

Grujo se još više ugnijezdi u

stolici: “Kolega, mislim da ste u svojoj

nekulturi sasvim pretjerali s vašim

tika-njem. Molio bih vas da prekinemo

jer vi očigledo ne znate razovarati na

jednoj akademskom nivou. Mogu samo da

žalim.”

Daut je stajao neko vrijeme iznad

njega, ali ne zbog toga da bi slušao

besjedu tog Stevea Revesa, allias347

Sead Mahmutefendić

Herkulesa, već zato što je činio

izuzetne napore da se suzdrži da mu

nešto neumjesno ne rekne, jer je znao da

bi to prisutni to primili s negodovanjem

i antipatijom. Dakle, on je i pored sve

uzbuđenosti zbog sarkazma svog kolege,

nastojao i trudio se ostati hladnokrvan,

a, u stvari, znao je da ako razmakne

svoje dvije usne, jezik će mu povući za

sobom ne samo bujicu, već vodopad

riječi, te će mirne duše sutradan moći

otići u tajništvo po radnu knjižicu

prije nego ga oni sami izbace iz škole.

Eto, njegovog morala i hrabro-sti - mora

se suzdržavati zbog onog što je najviše

prezirao. Počeli su kompromisi i laži.

Pred uperenim, hladnim Grujinim

pogledom, on ustuknu. Dok je izlazio iz

348

Suze Dauta Arfadžana zbornice, nekoliko puta uzastopce

zatvori oči, kratko i zvučno izbacujući

zrak iz sebe: “Hu! Hu!”

15.

Dok je posmatrao ogromni plakat

izlijepljen na mjesnom trgu, koji je

obaviještavao o skorašnjem interškolskom

prvenstvu u nogometu, Daut Arfadžan

osjeti rezignaciju, ali ne zbog ovog

skorašnjeg događaja, već zato što ga je

sve više ispunjavao neki neodređeni

strah i sumnja. Jedva se odlučio da ipak

okrene prema školi, mada zato nije imao

nekog jačeg razloga pošto je ostalo još

dosta vremena do početka njegove smjene.

Toplo lipanjsko prijepodne. Velika,

ulazna, metalna vrata stajala su sad

349

Sead Mahmutefendić

pred njim, a on jadnik umalo da posrne -

da li zbog toga što su zatvorena ili

zbog toga što iza njih nema ništa

tražiti niti vjeruje da tamo može ikog

pronaći. Bar da se ljulja u iluziji da

će mu neko toplo i ljudski spustiti ruku

na rame. Ne treba njemu ničije slov.

Nad oči nadsvodni krovuljak od

savijenog dlana i zagle-da se u dubinu

jednog prizemnog prozora ima li koga u

razredu. Isti čas, on ču s one strane

stakla smijeh učenika koji ga prenu iz

rasijanosti. Ta ga činjenica još više

zbuni i ojadi. Makinalno stade pogledom

tražiti nastavnika ispred ploče. Bogzna

koliko bi to vremena činio da se nečiji

dlan s raširenim prstima ne spusti iza

stakla, ispred njegovih očiju. To ga

350

Suze Dauta Arfadžana povrati. On podiže pogled i tek tad

ugleda Dragu.

Skameni se Daut Arfadžan od ledene

jeze. Mogao je zamisliti kako smješno i

poput luđaka izgleda u ovakvom

snishodljivom položaju, pa se zbog toga

osjeti još rđavije. U istom trenutku

primijeti Draginu ruku kako ona krenu ka

kvaci da otvori prozor, ali mu on hitro

mahnu rukom. Taj ga pokret toliko

iznenadi i zbuni. Pomisli da je to

nečija tuđa ruka a ne njegova. Toliko mu

se ona učinila strašna i van njegovog

tijela.

Uobražava li on luđaka? Valjda to

nisam, čim mogu postaviti sebi tako

pitanje? Luđak je daleko od pomisli da

je to već postao. Uostalom, on za

351

Sead Mahmutefendić

takonešto nije ni sposoban. Ako

ustanovi, onda to još nije luđak. Ludilo

je stanje uobražavanja. ludilo je, sjeti

se on riječi svog profesora sa

sveučilišta Nikole Miloševića,

neadekvatno primanje podražaja iz

objektivne stvarnosti.

Daut Arfadžan htjede pokriti oči

rukama, ali nije mogao, jer u isto

vrijeme pimisli da radi neki užasan

posao. Sav očajan, htjede se pošto-poto

pomjeriti s mjesta, ali shvati da će

tobiti veoma, veoma teško. Čak šta više,

pomisli da će mu se glava skotrljati s

ramena.

Jedino čega je bio svjestan bilo je

da se što prije makne s očiju ove silne

dječurlije i ovog dobroćudnog pjane, 352

Suze Dauta Arfadžana čije šale ne bi bio sad u stanju variti.

Volio je on tog Dragu, vječno

nasmijanog, predusretljivog i ljubaznog

čovjeka. U njemu bješe tuge skrivene u

osmejku, te nečeg praznog, promašenog i

povrijeđenog - samo šta? - za to stvarno

nije imao niti vremena, niti strpljenja,

nitinekog jačeg razloga.

Daut Arfadžan ugleda iznad sebe, na

prozoru, Dragu koji mu je namigivao

okrenutog leđima učenicima i koji je

diskretno pokazivaona ručni sat dajući

mu time do znanja da je još samo malo

ostalo do kraja nastave i da će njih

dvoji-ca otići nekamo.

Kamo?

Nekamo. Najvjerovatnije u kafanu?

353

Sead Mahmutefendić

Daut se napregnu da mu se osmjehne.

On tako nespretno i ljupko žmirnu s oba

oka u znak da ga je razumio. Ne bi se

sad mogao sjetiti naslova tog filma. Ko

će tu svu gomilu naslova popamtiti? Zna

samo toliko da je glavna glumica imala

jajoliko, pjegavo lice.

Čovjek živi među ljudima. Sve je

uljudno, svi se uza-jamno poštuju.

Izražavaju jedni drugima ljubav, a iza

toga odigrava se u čovjeku njegova drama

straha pred usamljenošću i briga koga

kakav će mu biti strah. Pristojnost i

ljupkost na licima, a grozota u duši i

srcu. Zbilja, neukusno i od Boga i od

đavola.

Dauta napusti privremena obamrlost,

te on napreže svoje tijelo i duh da se 354

Suze Dauta Arfadžana konačno udalji s tog mjesta. Isti čas,

kad krenu ka raskršću, odakle bješe

maloprije došao, pri-mijeti u daljini

direktora Zlojutra kako gega puteljkom

prema školi sa sklopljenim rukama na

zadnjici.

Samo mi on još treba, pomisli

Daut.

Praveći se da ga nije vidio, on sa

strane naskoči na stubište ispred

ulaznih vrata, prebaci se preko željezne

ograde te, pritisnuvši veliku mesinganu

kvaku, otvori vrata i uđe u školsko

predvorje. Na velikom satu, u pročelju

hodnika, nedostajalo je nekoliko minuta

do dvanaest.

Ugleda čistačicu. Pogled je imala

pospan od dijabetesa. U rukama je nosila

355

Sead Mahmutefendić

praznu kantu i metlu. On je pozdravi a

ona mu ne odzdravi.

- Ne čuje - reče za sebe.

Preskačući odjednom po dva

stepenika, uspe se na sprat i uđe u

zbornicu. Tu ne bješe nikog. Za nekoliko

minuta zvoniće za kraj časa. Tačno kad

bude podne. Dotle će se izgubiti.

Zlojutro će za to vrijeme dogegati do

svoje kancelarije koja je u prizemlju.

On nema običaj da prvo navrati u

zbornicu. Šta ako ga je maloprije

primijetio da je pobjegao od njega te mu

je već zamjerio za takvo njegovo

infantilno ponašanje. Ne mari, neka

misli što god hoće. Ne bi imao živaca

slušati priče o Njegošu, njegovom

vlastitom projektu o izgradnji mauzoleja 356

Suze Dauta Arfadžana Njegoša ili, pak, zaključcima Desetog

kongresa SKJ gdje se poseban akcent

stavlja na vaspitanje i obrazovanje

mladih generacija.

- Zato, moj rođače Daute, pamet u

glavu i pazi što pred djecom govoriš -

upozoravao ga je Zlojutro - Deseti

kongres je jasno zacrtao kako treba

nadgledati nastavnike u njihovom

odgovornom radu s omladinskom

populacijom. I još jedno - unosio mu se

u uho. - Zapamti, ovo ti govorim ko svom

djetetu: U svakom razredu ima neko koji

zapisuje tvoje riječi. Zato pamet u

glavu i obuzdaj jezik. Bolje je šutiti i

čitati novine, nego svašta trabunjati,

ovo ne bi ni djetetu svom rekao. Mislim,

jesmo li se sfatili?

357

Sead Mahmutefendić

Daut žmirnu i pogleda oko sebe.

Imenici, grafoskopi po ormarima, satnica

u nekoliko vrsta boja, rasturene novine,

knjige po policama, isprevrtani

fildžani, neki i izvrnuti po bakarnim

tacnama čekaju na odmoru nečije gatanje,

odnosno udvaranje, u dnu stola - tamo

gdje je Ratkovo i Grujino mjesto -

nekoliko figura na šahovskoj ploči,

rasturene stolice odmaknute od stola,

Titova slika na zidu i na kuhalu skoro

sva iskuhala voda u ogromnoj džezvi za

kafu na sljedećoj pauzi.

Stoji on nasred zbornice, a zapravo

ni ne zna zbog čega je on u ovoj

sobetini, u ovoj zgradurini, u ovoj

mjesturini, pa ni u ovom životu, i kome

on, u stvari, uopće i treba? Tužno i

358

Suze Dauta Arfadžana smješno da tužnije i smješnije ne može

ni biti. Ili je tužno i smješno što ja

ovako mislim ili mi se tužnim i smješnim

čini što mi je tužno i smiješno?

Pri tom nije pokazivao nikakvo

iznenađenje što na ovaj način osluškuje

svoj glas iznutra. Čak uhvati sebe da ga

s nekom vrstom svečanog respekta

osluškuje i biva ganut zbog toga.

To ga natjera na smiješak.

16.

Za vrijeme vožnje Daut Arfadžan je

govorio vrlo šaljivo. Milena je sjedila

za upravljačem. On je pričao slikovito o

svom ocu s masu zanimljivih digresija,

koje je svaki čas ubacivao u svoj

uzbudljiv monolog uz lamatanje ruku i359

Sead Mahmutefendić

bezbrojne gestikulacije što je kod

Milene izazivalo salve smijeha. S

ponosom je ustanovila da je takav bio u

vrijeme njihovih prvih viđenja i

upoznavanja. Rijetki su bili trenuci kad

je on dozvoljavao sebi toliku slobodu da

otvoreni i s nekom vrstom nezdravog

uzbuđenja priča o očevim ćudima i

karakteru, jer se činilo da malo

nedostaje pa da se ta njegova izvanredna

raspoloženja iznenada ne pretvore u

samoprezir ako bi naslutio ili umislio

da ga time omalo-važava onaj koji ga

sluša i koji mu se smije. U takvim

prilikama, smatrao je on, svi mu se

moraju smijati, a isto-vremeno, neka se

dobro čuva onaj ko ozbiljno ne shvaća

njegov podsmijeh svemu onome što ga

360

Suze Dauta Arfadžana njegova vulkanska fantazija i neobuzdana

narav razgolićuje. Nije bilo govora da

to neko shvati kao njegovu lakrdiju. Ako

bi baš došlo dotle, on bi tad pravio

duge, dosadne, moralizirajuće repli-ke,

nastojeći objasniti zbog čega je

maloprije nešto htio reći. Uglavnom,

njegov sud se toliko polarizirao da bi

on činio sve veće i besmislenije

grimase, bez prestanka govorio ne

dozvoljavajući nikom da dođe do riječi,

živo mlatarao rukama. Onaj koji ga je

poznavao uviđao je tad da je neumje-sno

bilo mu čime proturječiti nekom

upadicom. Daut bi se nekontrolisano

počeo ponašati, padati najprije u

nezdrav zanos koji je često mirisao na

početak histerije. Potom bi došla

rezignacija i jaka depresija, koja je361

Sead Mahmutefendić

obično završava-la ljutnje što je uopće

započinjao s travestijom. Poslije toga

se kleo u sve svetinje na svijetu da će

samo šutiti u ljudskom društvu i da ga

ni Bog neće nagovoriti da progovori

riječ, a kamoli da nasmijava ove

“božjake” i poslije da da-nima očajava

što se dao kao navesti na tanak led.

Da li njemu te priče služe kao

sklonište od velikog jada?

Uviđao je da nije smio dozvoliti da

ovako lako upadne u sopstvenu zamku.

Izgledao je samom sebi pomalo

djetinjasto i luckasto. Već pola sata

Daut je Mileni brbljao o svom ocu kao

čestitom čovjeku.

362

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Ne, ne, ja njemu kažem: Stari, ti

imaš nešto od Muhameda Pejgambera a.s.

- Ako misliš da slušam o tvom ocu,

onda mi radnije ne pričaj ništa -

prigovori mu Milena. - On je kino od

čovjeka i možeš mi o njemu pričati samo

kao o kinu. Hajde bježi tamo, oženiti se

tri mjeseca nakon ženine smrti. Odakle

mu takav želudac?

- To je njegova privatna stvar -

pokuša ga Daut braniti.

On istog časa odusta od pokušaja

bilo kakvog daljnjeg objašnjavanja. U

isto vrijeme osjeti val ljutine. Pokuša

izbrojati do deset. Badava. Nastavi

brojati do dvadeset, pa onda produži do

trideset. Uskoro će stići i do sto. U

nervoznoj tišini samo se čulo drndanje

363

Sead Mahmutefendić

motora. Onaj val bješe pomalo splasnuo.

Sad bi, međutim, najradije izišao iz

auta.

Kiša lije u mlazevima. Brisači

jedva uspjevaju otkloni-ti vodu sa

stakla. magla se hvata iznutra. Milena

povuče ručicu za grijanje.

- Hoćeš da te zamijenim? - ponudi

se Daut.

- Taman bi još to trebala - reče

ona bijesno. - Zar ne vidiš da si

cvrcnut od vinjaka? Ti si jedino

raspoložen kad se njega naližeš.

- Ja sam pijan od tebe - reče on

cereći se.

On načini pokret koji se Mileni

učini kao da će prebaciti ruku preko

364

Suze Dauta Arfadžana nje. Ona se trže, odiže desnu ruku s

upravljača da se odbrani od njegovog

zagrljaja. Ona ga ni na čas ne pogleda.

On joj vidje iz profila lice koje je

ispoljavalo hladno isčuđavanje. Time mu

je jasno davala do znanja da mu

uskraćuje pogled, ruku, rame, riječ. Ne

smanjujući brzinu, jurila je dalje.

Svu njegovu pažnju zaokupi takvo

njeno ponašanje prema njemu. Ono ga je

još više sramotilo i unižavalo pred njom

i sobom, zbog čega on osjeti da ga

obuzima takva divljačka čulnost kojoj

neizostavno ovaj put mora udovoljiti.

Uzdignutih ruku, koje je morao

nešto savinuti zbog nizine krova, te

razjapljenih usta, on se na silu

grohotom nasmije. U tom smijehu ona

365

Sead Mahmutefendić

nasluti da se počinju miješati svi

elementi nečeg nezdravog kojeg se ona, i

pored svoje sve češće kapricioznosti,

uvijek bojala. Pred njom se ukazaše

scene pakla, glasni krici i kuknjave, te

je malo nedostajalo da se ne

onesvijesti. Imala je toliko vremena da

vidi kako se auto uspe do vrha. Sad se

već pomalo počeo naginjati i kliziti niz

strmu cestu koja je išla u nedogled.

- Lena, moramo - dahtao joj je na

uho i zavlačio joj ruku pod suknju.

- Zgnječit ćemo dijete!

- Paziću - reče on falsetom. -

Odgurni se nogama da odmaknemo sjedište

kako nam volan ne bi smetao.

- Prvo da zaustavimo - reče ona.

366

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Nećemo, neka se sam zaustavi

gdje hoće - govorio je on sav u vatri.

- Ko će upravljati? - upita ona.

- Ja, i to guzicom. Ti miješaj i

držat ćemo pravac. Vidio sam da cesta

taman toliko vijuga.

Prije nego je opkorači, on zgrabi

sa sjedišta punu šaku karamela s

neotklonjenim celofanom i sve joj sasu u

razja-pljena usta. “Na, žderi to zajedno

sa papirom!” - reče joj sav uspaljen.

- Porcheria! - gunđala je ona.

- Jesi li ti spuzigaća?

- Jesam, dragi.

- Jesi li ti korica za moju

sablju?

- Jesam, dragi.

- Jesi li ti stoka?367

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Ja sam tvoja krava.

- Zašto imaš izraz mučenika?

- Ne seri, već radi svoj posao.

- Gledaš li u cestu?

- Posvijetliću ti farovima.

- To su reflektori.

- Je li mučim?

- Izmišljaj mi svakojake muke.

Daut se pomjeri da mu bude ugodniji

položaj, a i da ne bi joj suviše stomak

pritiskao.

- Upravljaš li?

- Upravljam - odgovori ona -

Upravljaš li ti?

- Upravljam.

On guzom pritisnu sirenu. Oboje se

od toga zakocenuše od smijeha, kojeg

368

Suze Dauta Arfadžana neko vrijeme nisu mogli uošte obuzdati.

A onda, najednom, onse sjeti njenog

maloprijašnjeg izraza lica iz profila,

njenog hladnog čuđenja. Pojavi se onaj

isti val, te on shvati da će jedino

pobijediti ako bude u ovom jači, pa

makar ne bi bio ni u čemu u pravu. kako

doći do tog trijumfa? Izluđivati stalno

tog vraga pod sobom kako bi se došlo do

priznanja?

Bijes je u njemu sve više bujao,

razlivao se po njemu i vitlao mu razum u

mahnitoj igri odnoseći ga u nebesne

visine, u Kaos u kojem se više nije

mogao orijentisati gdje se nalazi. Tek

sad nije imao pojma gdje je vrh a gdje

je podnožje. Htio je sav ući u nju i

nikad se više otamone vratiti. Znao je

369

Sead Mahmutefendić

da se ova želja ne može nikad ispuniti

dok je god bio običan jahač, nenaoružan

i na konju bez vatrenih krila.

Sve se najednom rasprslo u tisuću

komadića. Elementi su bljeskali oko

njih. otac je sjedio za stolom i igrao

šah sa samim sobom. Kad god bi povukao

potez i sjenka je hvatala za figuru da

povuče potez. Čim bi figuru ispustio i

sjenka bi to isto učinila. Začudo,

uvijek je na kraju pred nevi-dljivim

protivnikom s pionom više izlazio. S

njim bi žurio prema zadnjem kvadratu

ivikao: “Kraljicu!”. Zatim, kvadrat po

kvadrat stiskao je u ugao protivničkog

kralja. Na kraju, u potpunoj tišini, dok

je Daut zurio ispod stola u njegove

slonovske noge, gore iznad, odjeknula bi

370

Suze Dauta Arfadžana lupa figure po drvenoj, lakiranoj

površini i čuo bi se svečan i ponosan

glas: “Šah i mat!”

Motor se ugasio a automobil bješe u

jarku. Prsnulo u uglu staklo na

vjetrobranu. Nekoliko metara ispred

ležao je čovjek. Sve je to Daut nijemo

posmatrao preko ramena.

Milena ga stade gurati sa sebe.

Širom rastvorenih očiju, rasklopi one

svoje dvije tanke usnice. Daut ih je

posmatrao.

- Je li istina da je uvijek ista

dužina usana i usmina? - upita on.

Ona je šutila. Razrogačenim očima

dade mu znak na čovjeka što je ležao

nepokretan nedaleko od auta.

371

Sead Mahmutefendić

Tri-četvrt sata kasnije, milicijski

“tristać” zaustavi se ispred njih.

Sirena umuknu, svjetla su još ostala

bljeskati. Čovjek bješe prekriven žutom

dekom.

Daut iziđe iz auta. Milena ostade

sjediti na mjestu za suvozača.

- Dobro veče - službeno ga

pozdravi milicionar.

- Dobro veče - metalno odjeknu

Dautov pozdrav.

- Dajte mi vaše vozne isprave.

Daut pruži knjižicu. Milicionar

zagleda u ime i prezime.

- Daut Arfadžan?

- Da.

- Ovo je vaše vozilo?

372

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Da.

- Vi ste vozili?

- Da.

Na ostatak pitanja, Daut je

mehanički odgovarao. Jedino što je znao

u tom trenutku je da mora trpiti i

svojski primati ova neugodna pitanja,

odgovarati što staloženije da bi gonioce

što više odvojio od Milene i učinio

svoju žrtvu veličanstvenijom. Na sva

pitanja odgovarao je ravnodušno, mada je

osjećao - odasvud - od tog milicionara,

od njegovog ravnodušnog glasa, od

njegovog svježe izbrijanog lica, od

talky walkya koji se čuo iz njegovog

auta, od vrhova nijeme planine nekakva

surova i ubistvena prijetnja. Zbog svoje

glume, žrtvujući se zbog svoje bremenite

373

Sead Mahmutefendić

žene, osjećao je pobožno dostojanstvo

zbog zahvalnosti za intimni odnos koji

mu je priuštila Milena. Nikako to nije

mogao smetnuti sebi s uma.

17.

Unaprijed je znao da ništa neće

vrijediti bilo što da poduzme. Prvo na

žalbu rezignirano je odbacio. Tu stvar

mogao je mirne duše smatrati okončanom.

Čim je čuo da ide u zatvor, iskoristio

je ono nekoliko slobodnih dana da bar

prokljuvi u osnove jiu-jitse, boksa i

karatea - neka se nađe za svaki slučaj.

navečer je, kao neki klinjo, sa

sportskom torbom u ruci odlazio lokalnim

autobusom u susjedni velegrad do jednog

studentskog kluba. Obaveza prema nastavi

374

Suze Dauta Arfadžana više nije imao. Prekid posla bijaše samo

formalnost i on bješe u toku pošto je

osuđen na četiri godine. Zakon je

opraštao samo onim ispod šest mjeseci.

Tip, kojeg mu bjehu dodijelili, da

mu daje poduku, imao je gadno i rohavo

lice. S očiju nije skidao crne naočari u

kojima bi Daut ponekad popravljao kosu.

Duž lijevog obraza pružao mu se kao prst

debeo ožiljak. Imao je tamnu, azijatsku

put. I faca mu bješe takva kao da je

nikad nije provirivao iz zatvora. Kao da

su mu samo na trenutak pustili da mu

dadne tečajčić iz nekoliko trikova,

mislio je Daut s osjećajem smisla da

prilično preuveličava stvar. Gledao je

sebe ravno u tipovim naočarima.

375

Sead Mahmutefendić

Ovako izgledaju direktni protivnici

Dicku Tigeru u finalu obaju verzija,

pomisli Daut. I WBA i WBC. Još otprije

je smatrao da tog crnog momka bijelci

mogu posmatrati jedino iza konopaca ili

iz žablje perspektive.

Poduku je plaćao dvadeset

hiljadarki na sat. Svaki dan on se

propisno osafunjao u kimonu po sat i

pol, što mu je za deset dana odnijelo

cijele tri skupštine. Ako se to

preračuna u dolare, dođe mu da ga je po

novom tečaju ovaj školetak stajao

dvjesta dolara. S tom lovom Muhamedu

Aliju ne bi dali ni priviriti u dvoranu.

Zato je on oduvijek smatrao da je Juga

Amerika ili, bolje reći, da je Amerika

Juga. Zavisi iz kojeg se ugla posmatra

376

Suze Dauta Arfadžana problem - antisocijalističkog ili

antikapitalističkog.

Nakon deset dana svršio je tečaj.

njegov učitelj, po svemu sudeći, nije

bio baš očaran Dautovim rukatanjem i

nogatanjem, koji je više ličio na balet

iz kineske kulturne revolucije. Jedino

bješe dobro i tečno naučio galamiti na

japanskom, i to toliko dobro da je

jednom, najozbiljnije pomisio da čim

iziđe iz zatvora trkne do Japana i

dovrši s tamošnjim jezikom. Zvučno je

izbacivao masu zraka iz sebe. Na kraju,

nikad nije zaboravljao učiniti ritualni,

zenovski naklon svom učitelju. Uz one

krike, to bješe najbolje savladao. Te

dvije stvari vrijedile su onih dvjesta

dolara.

377

Sead Mahmutefendić

Tip je neodređeno i odsutno klimao

glavom kao da mu ona i ne pripada kad se

Daut usudi jednom ga upitati vrijedi li

im što ovaj posao. Nije mu baš bilo

zgodno otvoreno reći da je već prvi sat

digao ruke od njega. Samo zato što ga

nesre-tnika čeka ćuza, nije mu htio

pokvariti to zadovoljstvo niti mu htjeti

reći da je - što se tiče tabanja -

totalni duduk.

Svi su bili izgledi da je to znao i

sam Daut, te i pored svega bio mu je

zahvalan na toj iskrenosti. Preostalo mu

je da ga zamoli da mu se potpiše na neku

njihovu diplo-micu da on, Daut Arfadžan,

vlada istočnjačkim, borilačkim

vještinama.

378

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Onom tipu se taj prijedlog učini

toliko prostodušnim i simpatičnim da se,

pored svega, od srca nasmija. Bilo je to

prvi put otkako ga je Daut upoznao. Taj

mu se osmijeh nikako nije učinio

zlobnim. On mu još jednom napomenu da ga

uskoro čeka zatvor, da je zbog toga

isključen s posla, te da bi mu taj

papirić sigurno zlata vrijedio u onom

smrdljivom kavezu.

Kad to ču, onaj tip se uozbilji.

Izgleda da ga se dojmila Dautova priča.

On ga upita s takvim povjerenjem kao da

je u pitanju neki njegov stari

prijatelj: “Jesi li nekog zgazio,

silovao ili si nešto maznuo?”

Tip presječe ispruženim dlanom

vazduh. Daut klimnu glavom.

379

Sead Mahmutefendić

Tip skide pisaću mašinu s ormara.

Iz štosa diploma izvadi jednu i gurnu je

unutra. Kažiprstom je tražio slova po

tipkama.

- Kol’ko si dobio? - upta ga.

- Čet’ri.

Za Dauta bješe pravo zadovoljstvo

posmatrati kako samo uspjeva ne zakačiti

po dvije-tri tipke istovremeno. Sjeti se

Šopena i njegovih koštunjavih prstiju.

- Gadno će ti biti - reče tip

stavljajući svoj potpis. Iz fioke izvadi

pečat. Huknu u njega i snažnoga pritisnu

na papir.

- Evo ti! - pruži mu on diplomu.

- S ovim sranjem možeš samo da blefiraš

seronje. Prave dase će te propisno

380

Suze Dauta Arfadžana išarati, jer oni ne jebu nikakve papire.

Oni tek na njih popizde. zapamti da ne

ideš u vrtić među djecu, već među ološ

od kojih bar polovica ima kvocijent

inteligencije manji od sto. Tamo ćeš

sresti stado idiota koji bi za dvije

banke ubili rođenu mater.

- Hvala vam na diplomi - nakloni

se Daut.

- Što se tiče diplome, mogao sam

ti potpisati da imaš crni pojas sedmog

dana, mada bi tebe prebio čovjek bez

ruku i nogu. Ti sa sobom u bajbok ponesi

sedžadu te se moli svom Alahu da živ

izađeš iz njega.

Prilično skrhan, iziđe Daut iz

klupske kancelarije mada je u ruci nosio

uvjerenje da je nosilac braon pojasa u

381

Sead Mahmutefendić

karateu. Neko vrijeme stajao je

neodlučno na kolniku jedne sporedne

uličice. Kraj table čekao je na autobus.

Nije mu se išlo kući. Mislio je da će,

ako se bude izgubio u gomili ljudi, biti

nešto lakše, te da će mu to donijeti

kakav-takav zaborav od mučnih misli što

su ga počele spopadati. Iz kante za

otpatke izvadi svjež smotuljak novina.

Po datumu vidje da su današnje. Dvadeset

i peti je dan mjeseca studenog

tisućudevetstosedamdesettreće godine. na

prvoj strani je fotografija Predsjednika

Skupštine SFRJ. SJEĆANJE KAO ISPIT. DODELJENE

NAGRADE AVNOJ-a. NAREDBA VRHOVNOG

KOMANDANTA ORUŽANIH SNAGA SFRJ POVODOM

DANA REPUBLIKE. OČEKUJEMO OD EVROPE DA

PREISPITA SVOJE ODNOSE S ARAPSKOM NACIJOM.

382

Suze Dauta Arfadžana POKRET OTPORA JE JEDINI PREDSTAVNIK PALESTINACA.

RIBIČIĆ PRIMIO MAKOVESKUA. TITOVA ČESTITKA

PREDSJEDNIKU MAURITANIJE DADAHU.

On dolje poročita ovogodišnje

dobitnike AVNOJ-eve nagrade. Još jednom

zaustavi pogled na datumu. Do odlaska u

zatvor bješe mu ostalo svega pet dana.

Ču brektanje autobusa uz uličicu.

Krajem sedamdesetsedme biću na

slobodi. Današnji mladići dobiće tad

AVNOJ-a.

Uđe na zadnja vrata. Pođe ka

sredini. Putnici su još ulazili. U tom

trenutku pade mu na um da bi ipak bilo

pametnije otići kući. Motor je brektao u

leru. Kroz vjetrobransko staklo ugleda

ženu, koja je u trku davala vozaču znak

da je sačeka. Pogleda Daut u ugao

383

Sead Mahmutefendić

stakla, jer mu se učini na tren da je

ono tu puklo i da je za upravljačem onaj

isti čovjek kojeg je on prekrio žutom

dekom prije dolaska milicije. U tom

trenutku, prednja vrata se otvoriše da

propuste zadihanu ženu.

Šta ću ja među ljudima?

On potrča prema raskriljenim

vratima, te izleti na pločnik

preskočivši oba stepenika u jednom

skoku.

18.

I tako dođe do onog do čega je već

jednom morao doći. Prije kratkog vremena

javiše Dautu da će uskoro isteći njegova

kazna, čega se on pomalo i pribojavao,

384

Suze Dauta Arfadžana mada je često zamišljao da je ona toliko

daleko da se ima dovoljno vremena kako

bi se na miru moglo razmisliti o svemu

onom što dolazi nakon nje. Uostalom, o

nekom konkretnom planu nije moglo bitini

govora. Još prilikom prvog posjeta,

Milena mu je saopćila da je od škole

dobila dopis o prestanku radnog odnosa

na osnovu izrečene kazne.

Bilo je to poetkom siječnja

tisućudevetstotinasedamde-setčetvrte,

samo nekoliko dana nakon što je prvi put

proveo novogodišnje praznike van svoje

kuće. Blijedosivo nebo bješe pritislo

dolinu u kojoj se nalazio zatvor. U prvo

vrijeme, ta ga je slika prilično

uznemiravala. Jdnom je čak pomislio da

ga ona može uskoro stasvim izluditi.

385

Sead Mahmutefendić

Noću je osjećao nelagodu. Kasnije ga je

to isto osjećanje stalo proganjati i

danju.

Često se budionoću. Tišina. Mrak.

Čuje neke čudne zvu-kove. Kao da to šume

morski valovi? On pogleda dolje. Nema

ništa vidjeti osim komada dvorišta,

topolovog lišća što treperi na vjetru i

gore žarulje na banderi na kojoj se

iskri kiša što rominja.

Gdje sam ja i gdje ja to stojim?

Svojom voljom.

Ujutro je vidio zabjeljeno

dvorište. Vani je, u kratkim prekidima,

padao snijeg. U toku iduće noći bješe

toliko napadao da je počeo stvarati

neprilike. Zbog toga uputiše slijedećeg

386

Suze Dauta Arfadžana jutra grupe zatvorenika da očiste cestu

od silnih nanosa.

Drugi dani se ni po čemu nisu

razlikovali od ostalih, osim po nekakvoj

svijesti da je ipak bliži dan kad će se

izići iz ove odvratne rupe. Daut je

pored sobom imao četiri puta po dvanaest

mjeseci. Ne bješe prošao ni prvi krug.

Bez zazora i poštovanja prema ostalim

uzatvoru, on će stalno biti okupiran

mišlju o bezumnoj kazni koja ga je

zadesila. Gdje je tu ispaštanje krivice,

pitao se on s gorčinom. Ja sjedim ovdje

da bih okajao svoj grijeh ili vratio

svoj dug, čeprkam po moralu, dok pravi

krivac sjedi kući i tješi me da će ipak,

na koncu konca, i ovo sretno završiti.

387

Sead Mahmutefendić

Daut Arfadžan je nazivao to

uslugom, mada mu je izgledalo da je to

učinio više zbog sebe nego zbog nje. On

zaista nije imao ništa protiv ovog svog

nečuvenog čina, već je pak samo htio

ponekad da nestane - toliko se znao

sažaliti nad svojom sudbinom. Toj

okolnostimorala se dodati činjenica da

se odmah nakon završetka suđenja

pronijela vijest kako se advokat

Valentin Ham ponio kao prava hulja. Mada

je na vrijeme bio upoznat s pravim

stanjem stvari, on se u tom suđenju nije

ni potrudio izvući iz tog fakta kakvu

olakšavajuću okolnost zadržavajući i

dalje za sebe i sud diskreciono pravo

obrane. On je, dapače, protiv svih lo-

gičkih predpostavki, u koje su polagali

388

Suze Dauta Arfadžana nadu njegovi štiće-nici, držao se

prilično indiferentno kao da se ta stvar

njega nimalo ne tiče.

Takvo držanje vrijeđalo je Dautov

ponos i umanjivalo njegovu žrtvu. Samo

ga je prisebnost, te osjećanje

nesebičnosti natjeralo da ne uzvikne

pred sucem kako je on u cijeloj ovoj

stvari nevin. Ne baš apsolutno, ali nije

izravan krivac pješakove smrti, već -

eto - želi spasiti trudnu suprugu od

neugodnih maltretiranja koje bi, vjero-

jatno, bile uzrokom neželjenih

posljedica po plod. Sve se to događalo u

sali protiv njegove želje i volje, a

ipak, on je sve to izdržao radi svog

dostojanstva, koje je naraslo u njegovim

očima do neslućenih razmjera.

389

Sead Mahmutefendić

Milena je za svo vrijeme suđenja

sjedila u drugom redu. Ako je išta

smetalo Dautu, bio je to njen način

držanja, koji je prije podsjećao da

sjedi na nekakvoj modnoj reviji nego da

je u pitanju nesebična žrtva njenog

supruga. Ona je sjedila u društvu Vande

i Drage. Sve troje ponašali su se kao

najobičniji provincijski diletanti.

Milena će se, kasnije kleti Dautu u

vrijeme prve posjete da je on sve to

uvrtio u svoju paranoidnu pamet a da je

prava istina da je ona tih dana

pretrpila lakši nervni slom, samo ga

nije htjela tim opterećivati. Čim je

čula za tu Dautovu neopreznu primjedbu,

ona mu plačući reče da je on nezahvalan

prema njoj i ona nema više snage boriti

390

Suze Dauta Arfadžana se protiv toga. To će biti razlog što se

dijete uopće neće spomenuti. Gledali su

jedno drugom u prste ruku kao dva

stranca i jedva čekali da dođe kraj

posjeti. Uskoro zvono zazvoni.

Ona se pozvala na to da se njen

plač orio u sudnici pošto su ga

milicionari izveli iz dvorane. On je

šutio. Najprije je osmotrio njene prste,

a onda mu pogled pao na stomak i tu se

zaustavio. Nije se usudio povesti

razgovor o tome. Jeza ga je podilazila

kad se sjetio da je unutra živ čovjek,

koji će prekosutra razgovarati s njim i

optuživati ga kao i većina djece da je

nazadan i da ne razumije mađu

generaciju. Ona je, pak, mislila kako te

njene suze iz sudnice nisu ostavile

391

Sead Mahmutefendić

nikakav utisak na njega. Ona htjede

nešto reći. Istovremeno, zausti i on.

Umjesto toga, oboje odmahnuše rukom. Šta

si mislio reći?” - upita ga ona. “Ništa”

- odgovori on. “Kako ništa?” - činilo se

da bi se mogla uvrijediti. “Tako, ništa”

- odgovori on ne baš ljubazno.

“Dosadno”. “Baš dosadno?” - upita ona

rezignirano. “Strašno dosadno” - reče

on. “Onda ja odoh kad ti je strašno

dosadno” - kaže ona. “Idi ako hoćeš” -

mirno odgovori on.

Gledali su jedno drugom u sve, osim

očiju. Samo se jednom kratko susretoše.

Njene su oči bile pune suza. On poželi

da i on zarida. Nije mogao. Ponos mu,

valjda, nije dozvoljavao, mada se sav

tresao od tuge. Gledali su jedno u drugo

392

Suze Dauta Arfadžana kao dva stranca i osjećali su da se sav

svijet ruši oko njih. Jedva su čekali da

dođe kraj posjeti. Uskoro zvono opomenu

posjetioce i zatvorenike.

Istina je da će njegova Leda uskoro

imati četiri godine i teško je suditi da

bi jedan ovakav izuzetan porodični

incident mogao proći bez suvišnih

podsjećanja na protekli period. Leda

Arfadžan je stajala pod neposrednim

nadzorom svoje majke. Nijednom je

Milena, za vrijeme svojih posjeta Dautu,

nije dovodila sa sobom, već bi je

ostavljala svojoj majci na čuvanje. I

Dautova uviđavnost najčešće je išla

dotle da se ni sam nije usuđivao

preporučiti joj kako bi želio vidjeti

djevojčicu, mada se bezbroj puta zaricao

393

Sead Mahmutefendić

da će to od nje prvom prilikom

zahtijevati. A kad bi se Milena pojavila

pred otvorom za razgovore, u njemu bi

isti čas isparila svaka odvažnost i

rješenost da i to stavi na dnevni red

njihovog razgovora. Tada bi on našao za

izliku da se ta stvar, zasada, može i

odložiti, za neko zgodnije vrijeme. A i

nezgodno je da malo dijete dolazi ocu u

zatvor. Zašto bi joj morao ostati prvi

susret s njim u mučnoj uspomeni? Ovdje

tako smrdi i zatvorenici imaju luđačke

oči. Leda bi se mogla prepasti. To

Milena zna, pa je i ne dovodi. Ovaj put

neću joj ništa reći o tome. Drugi put -

možda? Najvjerovatnije.

19.

394

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Pažljivijem oku vjerojatno nije

mogla promaći iz vida njegova zbunjenost

i ošamućenost činjenicom što je trebao

ponovno preuzeti ulogu supruga. Uz to,

već tri godine bijaše navodni otac

ljupkoj djevojčici s plavim kovrčama,

što su joj padale mimo ušiju. Ona mu je

tog dana širom otvorila vrata stana.

prvo je ustuknula pred strancem.

Nanišanivši razrogačenim očima u

nepoznatog čovjeka, ona ga mazno i

ljupko upita koga treba. Zbog te njene

rečenice, Daut se morao rukom pridržati

za stativ vrata nastojeći da time ne

naruši ravnotežu i prisebnost duha, a i

da ne uplaši djevojčicu nečim

nepredviđenim što bi u njoj izazvalo

strah da je, možda pred njom nekakav

395

Sead Mahmutefendić

pijanac, koji je došao da od bake išće

para.

U njenim očima pokuša pronaći sebe,

a onda, odmah nakon toga, iskreno i s

prezirom uputi sebi prijekor: “Idiote!”

Pred sobom je konačno imao malog,

ljupkog stvora na kojim je on u zatvoru

sebe do ludila mučio.

Dijete se prepade od njegovog

pogleda te otrča u kuhinju s očiglednom

namjerom da nekog dozove. Čuo je kako

ono uplašenim i zapuhanim glasom tamo

nekom govori da je neki nepoznati čiko

na njihovim ulaznim vratima.

- Koga tražite? - čuo je da pita

stariji ženski glas. Milenina majka,

pomisli on.

396

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Kuhinjsak vrata se otvoriše. Njih

dvoje sretoše se pogledima. Iza bakine

haljine uplašeno i radoznalo izviri-vala

je djevojčica.

Daut Arfadžan nije volio takve

scene. Ni na filmu, ni u životu - nigdje

- osobito ako su one pričinjavale nekom

bol, a činilo mu se da će se to, upravo,

sad njemu dogoditi. Samo što mu na oči

nisu navrle suze od stida pred tim

djetetom. Osjećao je da podrhtaje i boji

se od onog što će mu prvo reći i kako će

ono primiti to što bude prvo čulo od

njega. On zakorači u hodnik. Spusti se

na stoličicu na kojoj se obuvaju cipele.

Punica pruži ruku iznad njega. Kvrcu

prekidačem. Slaba svijetlost s lustera

cijedila se toliko da se ljudi i stvari

397

Sead Mahmutefendić

primjećuju i razaznaju. Žena je šutila.

On je, takođe, šutio. Djevojčica je

buljila u nepoznatog čiku držeći se i

dalje s dva prstića za bakinu haljinu.

- Kako se ti zoveš? - upita je

Daut.

- Leda Alfađan - odgovori

djevojčica.

- Imaš lijepo ime - reče Daut. -

Ko ti je dao tako lijepo ime?

- Mama i tata - odgovori ona.

- Milena nije kući? pogleda Daut

u punicu. Osjeti kako mu bilo lupa na

vratu.

- Nije - tiho odgovori žena.

- Znala je da ću doći - upita

Daut.

- Nije znala. 398

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Daut Arfadžan se nije želio

upuštati sad u detalje, te je škrto i

pomalo rasijano pitao nešto u vezi s

djevojčicom, njenom poslušnošću, njenim

jedenjem i njenim zdravljem. Ona je,

također, odgovarala općeniti i odsutno,

kratko, samo na ono što je on pitao. To

ga je moralo začuditi obzirom da je

dobro, od ranije, poznavao njenu potrebu

za brbljanjem. Znao je da joj nikad nije

bio pri srcu, ali ga to nikad nije

posebno ni žalostilo, a najmanje da bi

ga spriječilo da bude bezosjećajan i

ravnodušan prema njoj. Njene oči sad su

ga gledale blago i tužno. Zbog toga

osjetiti tu, hladnu jezu punu tjeskobe.

U njega je lagano i mučno prodirala

napetost zbog bolne nepristupačnosti,

koja se vremenom stvori među ljudima,399

Sead Mahmutefendić

pogotovo ako su dugo bili razdvojeni.

Uostalom, on ne dolazi iz škole ili sa

službenog puta; on dolazi nakon četiri

godine provedene u zatvoru. To je već

sad njegova obična konstatacija da je

njegov vlastiti život za svo to vrijeme

proticao samo uzgred, te da je u neku

ruku morao biti zanemaren u nečijoj

svijesti, mada je, bez ikakvog

pretjerivanja, držao sebe za posvećenog

kako banalni život u onoj rupčagi ne bi

bio još otrcaniji i još više izbušen

rupama. Te varljive polupobjede u njemu

pothranjivale su nadu da će kad se vrati

kući naići na dva ženska stvorenja -

odana i s osmijehom. U njemu je ostao

kao kaveni talog refleks puničine

zbunjenosti, koju je tumačio, otprilike,

400

Suze Dauta Arfadžana kao: zar si još tu? - a manje kao

podozrivost radi čega ona ima biti

pribrana pred njim, odnosno, radi čega

ona ima biti zbunjena pred njim, da

crveni i blijedi. Da ne bi sebe

opterećivao suvišnim činjenicama,

odlučio je da sve prepusti slučaju.

Diskretno joj dade rukom znak da bi

želio ostati nasamo s djevojčicom. Za

divno čudo, djevojčica ga se više nije

plašila.

Kad su ostali sami njih dvoje, on

se osmjehnu kćeri što je moguće ljupkije

i dobroćudnije. Mogao je zamisliti kako

je ta ljupkost i dobroćudnost kretenski

izgleda kad se curi-ca isti čas maši

rukom za kvaku da vidi gdje joj je baka.

401

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Hoćeš da se kladimo da znam

kako ti je ime? - pruži Daut ruku prema

njoj.

Ona se malo primiri, ali ipak, za

svaki slučaj, ostavi ruku na kvaci.

- E, ne znaš - kočoperila se ona.

- Ti se zoveš - diže Daut oči ka

plafonu i zakoluta njima, tobože da se

prisjeti. - ti se zoveš... ti se

zoveš... Ida!

- Ti se zoveš Ida - isplazi mu

ona jezik. - Ne zovem se ja Ida.

- Čekaj, čekaj, nemoj me

zbunjivati. Ovako: Ida je tvoja najbolja

prijateljica - reče Daut Arfadžan

upirući prstom u nju.

402

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Nema nikakve Ide - ozbiljno se

zamisli curica.

- Vidiš kakva si ti - preko je

on. - Ti galamiš i ja se ne mogu zbog te

tvoje galame sjetiti. - Znam! Tvoja

najbolja prijateljica zove se,... kako

ono... na vrh mi je jezika...

- Sandla - reče curica.

- Sandra! Jesam li pogodio? -

uzviknu Daut.

Lud je kao i prije, pomisli punica

u kuhinji slušajući razgovor iza vrata.

- Jesi - prizna curica.

- Znam, znam da je Sandra -

Ljutio se Daut na svoje pamćenje. - Hm.

A ti se zoveš Leda, zar ne?

- Jesam - potvrdi djevojčica

glavom.

403

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Kako ti se mama zove?

- Milena.

- A tata?

- Daut.

- Gdje ti je mama?

- Otišla je na put.

- A tata?

- I on je otišao na put.

- Zašto nisu tebe poveli?

- Mala djeca ne putuju.

- Ko to kaže?

- Kaže baka. A tata će meni

donijeti puno pala kad se vlati, pa ću

ja kupiti sladoled kao i Sandla. Sandla

svaki dan kupi sladoled.

Lako je mogao pasti u opasnost da

rekne neku suvišnu riječ. Razumije se,

404

Suze Dauta Arfadžana trebalo je reći: “Leda, ja sam tvoj

tata. Tata se vratio s puta.”

Crv ga nije napuštao. Ako joj i

nije otac, što njih dvoje mogu time

izgubiti? Prevaren, pa šta? ja prevaren,

ona napuštena - upravo zgodna uvertira

da se dosegne metafizika dobra.

Vjerovao je da će time moći izliti

iz sebe izvjesne slutnje što mu je

zadavalo mnogo žalosti i straha pred Le-

dom. Nije bio toliko neuviđavan da s

izvjesnom ironijom ne primijeti kako je

njegova opreznost bila ponajviše

posljedi-ca njegove plašljivosti da ne

ispadne u očima ove selendre jado i

rogonja, a da u isto vrijeme ne sazna

što se, u stvari, zbilja dogodilo za

onih dvadeset dana razlike u Mileninom

405

Sead Mahmutefendić

porođaju i dana kad je računao kad će se

to dogoditi. Sve je on to do u detalje

sračunao u zatvoru.

Još uz to, poznavao je sebe toliko

da prizna svoju taštost, ali ne i

oholost, te da će uskoro izgubiti volju

i snagu da iza svoje ljubaznosti krije

svoju tobožnju blago-naklnost i

lakovjernost uz koje je umišljao da

neminovno idu pomanjkanje predrasuda i

neki neodređeni šarm u ravnodušno-sti i

širokogrudnosti prema vlastitoj žrtvi.

U isti mah, osjeti kako ga s one

stoličice izdiže neki ogromni talas,

ponese ga na sebi i on se nađe u kuhinji

pred Mileninom majkom. Na dnevoj

svijetlosti on tek sad ugleda da su joj

podočnjaci podbuhli, crveni i suzni. 406

Suze Dauta Arfadžana Njih dvoje, izgleda, trebaju se pošteno

i ravno pogledati u oči.

- Čujte vi - čuje on kako neko

umjesto njega izgovara - gdje je Milena?

Hoću da vidim Milenu. Vi dobro znate da

ja nisam kriv za smrt onog nesretnog

čovjeka. Milena je vozila a ne ja. ja

sam se milciji prijavio kao krivac. Ona

me je molila radi male u stomaku. Ona je

vozila a ne ja.

- Daute! Sine... Zete... Nem

Milene!

- Kako to? - osvrnu se on

zbunjeno oko sebe. - Je li se preudala?

Slobodno mi recite, nemojte ništa kriti

od mene. Ja sam u stanju sve... Sve sam

u stanju...

407

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Milena nije živa - s mukom žena

isfrflja.

- Kako nije živa? zgranu se on.

- Lani je umrla - reče žena.

Daut osjeti da ga guši bol u grlu.

- Kako?

- Zbog čega? - inzistirao je on.

- Vi ste, gospodine Arfadžane,

razuman čovjek - reče ona. Zato bih vas

zamolila da me više ne mučite suvišnim

pitanjima, koja ionako ne mogu više

ništa izmijeniti. Njima se mogu oživjeti

neprijatna sjećanja. Ja sam dosta

propatila ovu zadnju godinu dana. Uz to,

čuvala sam vašu kćer do vašeg povratka.

Još sutra, vratit ću se svom mužu.

20. 408

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

O Ledi su se starali Daut i Vanda.

Njoj su se njih dvoje posebno posvetili.

Počeo je time što je Vanda, ubrzo nakon

Dautovog povratkaiz zatvora, otvoreno mu

ponudila svoju pomoć da mu se nađe pri

ruci u čuvanju i njegovanju male Lede.

Što se pak tiče Dauta Arfadžana, on se

još prilično osjećao zbunjenim zbog

okolnosti u kojima se tako nenadano

našao da je u početku morao osjećati

nelagodnost u jednom strogo intimnom

smislu što se nije bio u stanju

prilagoditi ovakvoj novoj situaciji.

Staranje o ledi donijelo je sa

sobom izvjesne promjene, i - Daut nije

imao razloga protiv toga se buniti, već

- naprotiv u izvjesnom smislu morao se

pokazati onakvim kakvim je sebe oduvijek

409

Sead Mahmutefendić

smatrao, a to je - da je on dobar

čovjek.

Vanda i Daut su često izlazili s

malom Ledom u šetnju, izvlačili je iz

njihovog tijesnog stančića, te su svo

troje odlazili prema kraju mjesta odakle

se dolazi do sporednog, zemljanog

puteljka, koji se odvaja od glavne ceste

i skreće prema obližnjoj šumi.

Djevojčica je neprestano nešto zapit-

kivala - čas oca, čas teta Vandu -

zvonkim, simpatičnim glasom.

Živeći ovdje već dvije godine, Daut

je bio bez ikakvih materijalnih

sredstava, izuzimajući nešto, veoma

skromnog, što bi primio kao honorar od

nekog časopisa; a i to je bilo toliko

rijetko da to, doista, nije mogao 410

Suze Dauta Arfadžana smatrati prihodom vrijednog da se

spomene. Da mu nije bilo Vande i njene

pomoći, odavno bi morao nešto valjanije

smisliti od ovog u kojem se svo ovo

vrijeme nalazio.

Mada je Vandina odluka svakog živog

iznenadila i dovodila u ljubopitljivu

nedoumicu, pa čak i samog Dauta, ipak je

ona morala na njega ostaviti utješan

utisak. Bio je veoma sretan, jer je još

uvijek osjećao neku zaostalu privrženost

prema njoj, a koju je on, sve dotad,

smišljeno prikrivao; pa čak bi se moglo

i ustvrditi da ju je i prigušivao s

uvijek jednim te istim bolnim pijetetom

prema njoj. Nerijetko se znalo dogoditi

da je morao, dok sjedi za radnim stolom,

odlagati pero prekidajući pisanje radi

411

Sead Mahmutefendić

odmora, te u nemirnoj besposlici

prisjećao se nekih polu-detalja iz

njihove veze sve dok ne bi zadrhtao

osjećajući u sebi slatku bol koja mu

steže grlo i koja ga čini toliko

usamljenim da mu izgleda kako će se od

nje uskoro sav rasprsnuti.

Najvažnija od svega bila je

činjenica što na Ledi nije primjećivao

nikave promjene koje bi ličile na

prijekor. Daut je bio dirnut takvim

njenim ponašanjem, mada bi se znalo

često dogoditi da pomisli kako je još

suviše rano da se raduje tako smionim i

optimističkim zaključcima, ostavlja-jući

mogućnost da je kćerkina privrženost

prema Vandi vje-rojatno razlog što joj

je sad neophodna i ugodna nečija ruka, a

412

Suze Dauta Arfadžana ne lakoumna privrženost koja se može za

veoma kratko vrijeme izvrši u sasvim

nešto suprotno. No, što je - tu je: onim

što je Daut svakodnevno vido svojim

očima bio je zadovoljan.

Jednog jutra on se probudio veoma

kasno. Vanda već bješe otišla u školu.

Na stolu je ostavila papir s porukom da

će doći tek predveče zbog nekog sastanka

kojeg nije mogla izbjeći.

Dnevnu svjetlost gledao je kroz

razmaknute žaluzine. U potkrovlju su

golubovi gugutali. Neki su se komešali

na prozorskom simsu. Čuli su se koraci

na ulici. Sjeti se Milene. Zapravo,

sjeti se da ju je noćas sanjao. Slike iz

tog sna još su ga mučile i tištale. Ovo

je drugi ili treći put da je sanja.

413

Sead Mahmutefendić

Čudio se zašto mu ona češće ne dolazi u

san. Ovaj put se pošteno namučio.

Jesen je. On šeta po opalom lišću.

Svuda je blato. Grakne vrana. Prava

jesenska slika. Najednom, nebom poleti -

ona! Nije moguće! Milena? ima prava

krila. Raširila ih i leti ravno k njemu.

Kad doleti iznad njega, spusti mu se na

ramena. Vidi - ona je. Lice joj se krivi

u osmješak. Smiješi se. I kljun i oči

joj širom otvoreni. Naročito: oči. On

stoji zbunjen, nepomičan, ukopan u

blatu. Nigdje nikog osim njih dvoje i

gavrana koji stalno odnekud grakne.

Ona mu priđe, uze mu ruku i stisnu

se uz njega. Zagrli ga onim svojim

krilima. Nikad ga nije tako strasno

zagrlila. On primijeti da je u prozirnoj 414

Suze Dauta Arfadžana spavaćici. Ona osta okrenuta sučelice

njemu.

On je zovnu po imenu. Ona se ne

odazva. On ponovi. Osjeti da drhti.

Ona se sad odazva.

- Što se ne odazoveš? - upita je

on.

- Ja se ne zovem više Milena pa

sam zaboravila da sam se tako nekad

zvala - reče ona nekim šištavim glasom.

- ja sam sad Nabrak.

- Nabrak? - šapnu on odsutno. -

Odakle ti takvo čudno ime. Nikad nisam

čuo da postoji takvo ime, a još uz to ne

bi rekao da je to ime za ženu.

- Dali su mi ga moji prijatelji -

reče ona. Divni ljudi. Voljela bih da ih

upoznaš.415

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Ko su ti ljudi? - upita on.

- Mrtvaci kao i ja - odgovori

ona. - Svi mrtvaci su odreda divni.

Ona se bješe nešto malo odmakla od

njega, ali mu ponovo priđe. Rukama mu

obujmi glavu te je privinu k sebi. Ona

mu je smjesti na svoje grudi isto onako

kao što je on to nekad s njenom glavom

činio. On stavi svoju jagodicu u njenu

očnu šupljinu. Tad osjeti na svojoj koži

njene suze.

- Pa ti plačeš? - upita je on.

- Ti to sanjaš - reče mu ona. - Ne

povodi se za snom. Java će biti sasvim

nešto drugo. Tamo te čeka tvoja Vanda.

- Ko je Vanda? - upita je on.

416

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- To je žena koja čuva moju Ledu

- šapnu mu ona gura-jući mu kljun duboko

u uho. - Tako stoje stvari, Daute

Arfadžanu! Možeš mi reći sve a da se ne

moraš opterećivati posljedicama.

Puna mokraćna bešika probudi Dauta.

Škiljnu on jednim okom na hodnik. Na

noćnom stoliću primijeti papirić prislo-

njen na staklenu vazu. Daute, novac je

na frižideru... Kupite... mesni doručak,

paket jaja... sastanku... neću moći...

Vanda.

Iz zahoda je dopirala svjetlost od

žarulje kojeg su po svu noć držali zbog

Lede. Reče sebi da će jednom pokušati

utonuti i izgubiti se u slatkoj

obamrlosti i pospanosti. Ako bi potražio

odbačene papuče, vjerovatno bi mu se

417

Sead Mahmutefendić

dogodilo da se sasvim rasani. Stoga

krenu prema zahodu, žmireći na jedno oko

tek toliko da ne bubne glavom u neko od

rastvorenih prozorskih krila ili vrata.

Oprezno sjede na zahodsku školjku i s

uživanjem pusti mlaz mokraće. Bješe

priklopio ono otvoreno oko. Tad se sjeti

zadnje slike iz malopri-jašnjeg sna:

zacijelo bi ga odmah morao nastaviti.

Kako to da se san može nastaviti?

Bojao se da će ga hladan beton

rashladiti, pa on pođe s gaćama i

pridžamom na koljenima natrag u krevet.

Ispred sebe držao je ispružene ruke. Oba

oka bijahu zatvorena. Uđe pod topao

jorgan. Isti čas pomisli kako bi

valjalo pogledati da li se Leda otkrila.

- Volim te - zareža Milena. 418

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Nije više bila ptica, već ona

prava, onakva kakvu ju je zadnji put

vidio na prozoru zatvora dok mu je kroz

suze mahala. Imao je još tri godine da

odsluži kaznu. Odonda je više nikad nije

vidio.

- I ja tebe volim - odgovori on.

- Zar bi otišao u zatvor umjesto nekog

koga ne volim?

- Šuti i ne laži! A Vanda? No,

ostavimo to. Uživajmo u našem susretu.

Daj pusti tu svoju zmiju u moju pećinu -

naredi mu ona strasno.

- Na usta će ti umjesto jezika

proviriti - osmijehnu se on.

- Neka, to i hoću - reče ona -

Kad ga nemam, umjesto njega jezikom

palacam.

419

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Milena, je li Leda moja kćer? -

upita on najednom. Molim te, reci mi

istinu.

- Kako misliš? - izobliči se ona

sva u licu.

- Evo, vidiš! - izvadi on papir -

ovdje je kalendar trudnoće. Evo, ta tu

brojka u prvom redu označava početak

posljednje menstruacije, a brojka - ova

tu, u drugom redu - dan je porođaja.

Leda je rođena 1. juna, a mi se nismo ni

znali 25. augusta, zar ne? Sjećaš li se

kako smo se upoznali prvi put one večeri

kod mene u stanku kad si došla s Vandom

i Dragom? Drugi septembar je bio. Muči

me onih osam dana razlike.

”Približan datum poroda se može izračunati

ako se poslužimo ovom računicom. Treba znati datum

420

Suze Dauta Arfadžana nastupa posljednje menstruacije kojom se pribroji 7

dana i odbije 3 mjeseca, npr. posljednja menstruacija

je nastupila 15.VII; dodamo li tome 8 dana, to je

22.VIII; ako odbijemo 3 mjeseca, žena će

najvjerovatnije roditi 22.V, ako ne nastupe

komplikacije. I ovaj način nije uvijek pouzdan jer se

neke žene ne sjećaju tačno dana početka

menstruacije.”

- I? - upita on. - Prema tome?

- Prema tome, Leda nije tvoja.

Ja sam je zanijela s drugim. Taj drugi

me je napustio kad sam mu rekla da sam u

drugom stanju. Došla sam Vandi, požaliti

se, potražiti savjet, pomoć. Ti znaš

njeno samarićanstvo. Njoj su zanim-ljivi

samo oni koji pate i kojima treba

pomoći.

421

Sead Mahmutefendić

Ti si baš u to vrijeme s njom

prekinuo. Bila je duboko povrijeđena. Na

neki način bile smo u istoj koći. Da bi

ti se osvetila, poturila me je tebi.

Nisam tada imala ništa protiv. Naprotiv,

vidjela sam da je to jedino bezbolnije

rješenje. Sad mi je toga stid. Oprosti

mi ako možeš. Ako ne možeš, ja ti se u

snu neću nikad pojavljivati.

- Reci mi, ko je Ledin otac -

viknu Daut. - Moram da znam.

- Zašto bi to bilo toliko

važno? - upita ona.

On htjede još nešto reći. Osjeti

gušenje u grlu i grudima.

U njenoj ruci nađe se nož. Ona

pritisnu dlanom po njegovoj oštrici.

422

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Ostavi nož! - naredi joj on. -

Evo argumenata da zatražim razvod. I

znaj da ću to učinit. Ti ne znaš dok

čovjeka potpuno ne izludiš. Daj mi ga,

čuješ li što ti kažem?

Ispruženog dlana stajao je ispred

nje. “Daj mi nož kad ti kažem.”

Lice se njeno krivilo u užasnu

grimasu i podrhtavalo. Vidjelo se da bi

mogla svaki čas zaplakati. Ali - ne

zaplaka.

Priđe mu korak bliže. Htjede ga

zagrliti. On je grubo odgurnu. Ona pade.

On se sage prema njoj. Isti čas, ugleda

njenu ruku, što je stiskala oštricu

noža, kako se sjuri poput munje prema

njegovim grudima. Kroz glavu mu sijevnu:

“Ovo je moj kraj!”

423

Sead Mahmutefendić

Čuje on neke zvukove. Nisu to

valjda golubovi? Golubovi su golubje

boje. Sad je noć. I noć zna biti golubje

boje. Neko otvara vrata.

Širom otvori oči Daut Arfadžan.

Kraj uzglavlja mu je stajala Leda. On se

osmjehnu prema njoj: “Vrati se u krevet,

sunce. Hladno ti je.”

- Je li tata da sve djevojčice

imaju pišu? - upita ona.

- Imaju - odgovori on.

- I ja sam djevojčica jer imam

pišu.

- Da, ti si djevojčica jer imaš

pišu.

- A muškarci imaju ćunu?

- Imaju.

- Imaš li ti ćunu? 424

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Valjda imam.

- Pokaži mi ga.

- Hajde ti u krevet.

- Hoću u tvoj krevet - reče Leda

te se baci u njegovo naručje.

Čim se ona smjesti kraj njega, on

se izvuče ispod jorgana te ode u kuhinju

da popije bijelu kafu.

Iz hodnika dopriješe bijesni

glasovi. Tako je skoro svaki put u ovo

vrijeme. Susjedovog sina - ispod -

valjalo je svako jutro ili mlatiti, ili

prijetiti, ili proklinjati da ne zakasni

naprvi školski čas.

Vani je padala slaba kiša. Daut

stade pred prozorsko ono. Leda bješe

ponovo zaspala. Nebo se prilično

natmurilo.

425

Sead Mahmutefendić

Neko pozvoni na vrata. Daut ih

otvori.

- Ako vam ne bi smetalo, ja bi

bio toliko slobodan da pročitam stanje

struje na strujomjeru radi naplate

dotične - dočeka ga iz hodnika mladićki

poletan i servilan glas inkasatora.

Daut ne bješe platio za posljednja

dva mjeseca.

- Nismo platili za posljednja dva

mjeseca, zar ne gospodine profesore?

Daut Arfadžan obeća da će novac još

sutra donijeti u upravu. Zamoli ga da

dotle ne pravi nikavu prijavu.

- Molim - reče inkasator. -

Dogovorili smo: sutraa, molim lijepo.

Zdravoo!

426

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Inkasator zasta, pa onda sleže

ramenima. Na vrijeme se, izgleda, sjeti

da bi sažaljenje bilo uputnije nego

ovakva lepršava ravnodušnost. Ko zna

koliko bi ga dugo preko onih debelih

leća posmatrao, da mu Daut nepritvori

vrata ispred samog nosa.

- Nismo platili za posljednja dva

mjeseca, zar ne gospodine profesore? -

podržavao ga je Daut posmatrajući ga

kroz špijunku na vratima.

Kafu je morao piti bez šećera. Samo

što je posrka, sjede za strojopis da

napiše pisamce za “Život”, kojem će

ponuditi jednu novelu. Drugu će poslati

u “Forum”, treću u “Gradinu”, četvrtu u

“Književnost”, petu u... petu će u božju

mater!...

427

Sead Mahmutefendić

S hladnjaka uze paklu cigareta koju

mu Vanda ostavila. Unutra nadje samo tri

komada.

Svi tipkači puše dok rade. Sjeti se

i onog što je maloprije sanjao. Zapali

cigaretu.

Nisam valjda praznovjeran da

vjerujem onom glupom snu? Ljudima se

upravo događaju one stvari u koje

vjeruju. Moram se odreći cigareta i

kafe. Moram Vandu osloboditi tih

troškova. Ipak, ja ne radim.

Je li Vanda meni zaista namjestila

Milenu da mi se osveti i spasi rodicu?

Zašto je ona meni priskočila u pomoć ne

mareći nimalo za zle jezike? Nekad smo

se došaptavali u zbornici, a sad igramo

428

Suze Dauta Arfadžana potpuno otvorenih karata. Negdje sam

pročitao da veličina čina oslobađa

čovjeka suvišnih obzira? Jesam li ja to

stvarno negdje pročitao ili sam sam

izmislio? Vjerovatno se to ja tješim.

Ako je onaj san stvarno istina? Zar

nije onaj student pao u nesvijest kad mu

je žena rodila crnu kćer? Doduše, moja

nije crna. Bože, oslobodi me ovakvih

niskih misli. Ja sam proklet. To je moja

curica. U meni je neka cijev pukla i

fekalije probijaju kroz pukotinu i

naviru van.

Leda se probudila. On je odvede do

kupatila da je tamo umije, počešlja i -

na kraju - obavezno poljubi u tjeme.

Pomože joj da na sebe navuče suknju roza

429

Sead Mahmutefendić

boje, bijele končane čarape i plave

sandalice.

Ona popi kafu, koju Daut bješe

zasladio šećerom što ga je iskopao iz

ćoškova kutije zajedno s rđom.

Iziđoše njih dvoje iz stana. Svuda

uokolo je živo. Svi nekud idu ili se

vrpolje. Malo tko sjedi na miru. Gleda

se, vaga, premjerava, baza se čaršijom

dolje-gore, a ako se nema nikakva posla,

onda se stoji i zirka oko sebe. Oči

gladne svakakvog zvuka i boje.

Od stočne pijace dopire blejanje

uplašenih ovaca i povremeno mukanje

uznemirenih telaca.

Držeći Ledu za ruku, Daut priđe

stolu prekrivenim crvenim crnim

430

Suze Dauta Arfadžana čaršafom. Po njemu bješe rasut nakit od

lažnog zlata, privjesci, narukvice,

ogrlice, švercovane lutke iz Trsta.

Preko stola, u izlogu piljarnice, Leda

ugleda nešto čudnovato što dotle nikad

nije vidjela.

- Tata! - uzviknu ona. Šta je

ono?

- Koje? - upita Daut.

- Eno ono okruglo ko šišarka -

pokaza ona prstićem.

- Ono? - pokaza i on prstom na

isto mjesto.

- Da.

- To je ananas! - reče on.

- Šta je to ananas? - upita

ona.

431

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Ima jedna priča o ananas -

naceri se on. Nekakav učitelj tukao

djecu u školi. Jednom neko dijete dođe

kući i ispriča roditeljima: “Učitelj nas

tukao, a na nas je poslije i čistačica

vikala.

- Na koga? - upita Leda.

- A na nas - reče Daut. - Hoćeš

da ti kupim, a poslije ću ti pričati

priču? Glupo sam tiispričao priču. U

stvari, zaboravio sam je.

Leda se zakikota: “A na nas... a na

nas... a na nas...”

- U stvari, Vanda će ti poslije

podne ili već sutra to kupiti - sjeti se

Daut da kod sebe nema novaca. - Kod nje

je novac.

432

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Što će meni teta Vanda kupovati

kad ja imam tebe - Leda skoro zaplaka. -

Hoću da mi ti kupiš!

- Ali ja nemam para - prosikta

Daut šapatom da ga ko ne čuje.

- Kako Vanda ima?

- Vanda radi.

- Zašto ti ne radiš?

- Nemam posla.

- kako Vanda ima posla?

- Ja imam posla oko tebe, moram

tebe čuvati.

- Onda ću ja kad porastem dati

tebi novaca, pa ćeš ti meni kupiti.

- Ananas?

- Da. Hoću od tebe ananas.

- Hoću sine.

433

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Nisam ja muško. Ja sam žensko

jer imam pišu - reče Leda.

U Dautu se miješao stid, gorčina i

očaj. Poželi da njih oboje odlete, isti

čas, nekamo daleko - naprimjer - u

Pariz, gdje nikog ne poznaju, da imaju

pune džepove para, a on i Leda da satima

šetaju pa onda negdje legnu, a noću

posmatraju kako nad njima trepere i

drhture zvijezde te visi blijed mjesečev

srp.

Leda se kikotala: “A na nas!... A

na nas! A na nas! Ti, tata, uvijek nešto

smješno rekneš.”

Daleko od njih, gomila ljudi se

tiskala u nepravilnom polukrugu. Pored

Dauta i Lede neki protrčaše

priključujući se onim znatiželjnicima, 434

Suze Dauta Arfadžana čiji je broj sve više rastao. Ljudi su

se propinjali na prste i izvijali

vratove da vide zbog čega se to po

bubnju lupa u određenom ritmu. U

odlomcima se čulo medvjedovo mumlanje,

te umorni i prigušeni glas nevidljivog

vlasnika, koji je morao biti u krugu.

Njegov glas se najčešće gubio u općoj

galami i graji.

Kad dođe do zadnjih redova, Daut

posjede Ladu iza vrata. Lagano je njenim

nožicama potiskivao ljude ispred sebe, i

oni su ga nekim slučajem propuštali

naprijed bez negodovanja. Tako se njih

dvoje nađoše u prvom redu. Sad su mogli

da vide i Ciganina, i bubanj, i

medvjeda, propetog na dvije stražnje

noge. Motku s lancem pridržavao je

435

Sead Mahmutefendić

vlasnik. On bi udario štapom po

životinji i medvjed bi isti čas

zamumlao.

Leda se mrštila od one okrugle

željezne alke, koja se - probijena kroz

medvjedov nos - klatila zajedno sa

slinom što mu je curila iz nosa i niz

gubicu. Čovjek bi potegnuo alku

prisiljavajući medvjeda na mumlanje i

poslušnost. Ciganove oči bile su tužne i

crvene.

Čim završi s igranjem i plesanjem,

mečka se spusti na sve četiri noge.

Krenu velika, zarđala konzerva u

Ciganinovoj ruci. Začu se zveket

metalnog novca. Neko je bacao žute.

Nekolicina njih pažljivo spusti i pokoju

436

Suze Dauta Arfadžana papirnatu novčanicu. Ostali su se

ravnodušno i prezrivo odmicali.

Dođe konzerva i do Dauta Arfadžana.

On ugleda podna-dule, crvene i staklaste

oči Ciganinove, do pola zastrvene teškim

kapcima, koje ga zbuniše te on ubaci

nešto metalnog sitniša što bješe iskopao

s dna džepa.

Ciganin lupi rukom po bubnju i

zapjeva. Istovremeno, povuče lancem

mečku za gubicu. Isti čas, mečka se

prope na prednje noge ostajući na dvije

stražnje. “Hajde Bimbo, pleši za nas,

tužnu igru nas dvojice...”

Riječi su bile slijepljene, mukle i

teške.

Leda je stajala mirno u prvom redu,

širom razrogačenih očiju i razjapljenih437

Sead Mahmutefendić

usta, sastavljenih stopala u stavu

mirno, obješenih ruku niza se, zagledana

u čovjeka pred sobom i životinju za koju

zna da je opasna a sada nemoćna i

poslušna. Bješe toliko blijeda da se

lako moglo povjerovati da je bez krvi.

Cigo poče jače lupati po bubnju. To

je bio znak da se konzerva još više

napuni misle li vidjeti igru medvjeda.

- Vidjet ćete čudo neviđeno - reče

on.- Još sam samo danas s vama. Sutra ja

i Bimbo odlazimo.

Konzerva se slabo punila. Prvi

redovi su se snebivali, nećkali i

smijuljili. Ciganin zaviri u nju pa onda

odmahnu glavom. Bubanj pojača ritam kad

konzerva u njegovoj ruci ponovo stade

438

Suze Dauta Arfadžana promicati ispred noseva i očiju

znatiželjnih posmatrača.

Ipak, konzerva se punila. Kad vidje

da je ispunjena skoro do vrha, on je s

olakšanjem prinese grudima. Uminuše

udarci bubnja.

Krhkim glasom od straha, Leda tog

trena panično uzviknu: “Tata, onaj čiko

hoće da se rve s medom? Hoće li on to da

uradi?”

Ciganin obuhvati medvjeda oko pasa.

Medvjed, također, obujmi šapama svog

drugara. Onda se začu potmulo mumlanje,

koje je stizalo iz dubine stomaka.

Stegnu medvjed Cigu i odiže ga od zemlje

držeći ga u naručju.

Ciganin prestade govoriti. Gals mu

potpuno zamre, a glava mu klonu na439

Sead Mahmutefendić

mečkine grudi. Leda vrisnu: “Podignite

čiki glavu!” Gomila u prvom redu

pobjesni: “Varalice!... Ukrao nam je

pare!”

Daut skide Ledu s vrata i stisnu je

u naručju. Imao je neku zlu slutnju.

Gomila prihvati lanac od Ciganina. Povu-

koše mečku za gubicu. Ona odvoji ruke od

gospodara mumlajući bolno.

Idući prema stanu, Daut ču kako

pred tezgom okupljenoj grupici

objašnjava neki čovječuljak kvalitete

svojih sapuni-ća. Glas mu bješe takav

kao da ga je iz trbuha istiskivao:

“Čistim sve fleke - od ulja, masti i

kolomasti sem fleke s pluća. Ponavljam:

sem fleke s pluća! Dođite vi gospodine s

mrljom na reveru.” 440

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

- Kupio sam juče jedan a ipak

nisam uspio ništa očistiti - reče onaj

gospodin.

- Ko misli zajebavati, neka stane

sa strane - reče trboglas. - Laž nije

prevara.

Naveče je Daut pričao Ledi o njenoj

mami, koja je bila najbolja mama na

svijetu. Nakon toga čitao joj je priče

iz knjige “Bajke iz cijelog svijeta”.

Tek kad ju je ponio u krevet, Leda

se probudila. Pospanim glasom ona ga

upita: “Zašto je medo jako stisnuo

čiku?”

- Zato što je čiko stisnuo njega

- odgovori on.

- Aa... zašto je mama umrla? -

upita ona.

441

Sead Mahmutefendić

- Zato što je nismo slušali -

pokuša se on našaliti, ali se isti čas

ugrize za usnu na tu svoju neduhovitost.

Kad ju je spustio u krevet,

djevojčica je već spavala. Daut ode do

prozora. Na nebu je visio svijetli srp

mjeseca.

Vide li ga oni u Parizu?

Da li će njegov život izmijeniti

Leda?

Buljio je u mrak a onda se

neodređeno osmjehnu.

21.

Vanda hladno pred Dautom prizna da

joj je oduvijek nedostajao smisao za

sopstvenu čast i da ne žali što je nema,

442

Suze Dauta Arfadžana mada mora, uz to, ustanoviti da je malo

ima onaj ko voli, jer u ljubavi nema ni

pragmatizma, ni matematike - ona je

ludilo i bolest! - i ništa više. A,

izgleda, da je još veće ako joj lijeka

nema. Daut povladi ove njene riječi,

dodavši kratko da bi se ovo posljednje

vjerovatno moglo odnositi na njihovu

raniju vezu, koja se bješe i prekinula

zahvaljujući više njenom jeziku nego

njegovoj ravnodušnosti prema njoj. Kao

jedina sretna činjenica, proistekla iz

toga, to je ovo njihovo iskreno druženje

i prijateljstvo (bar se njemu tako

čini), kojeg zasigurno ne bi bilo, bar

ne u ovakvom vidu da se ta njihova

ljubav kojim slučajem završila brakom.

Tad bi mogli obadvoje uzviknuti: “Avaj!”

To bi bila njihova zajednička komedija,443

Sead Mahmutefendić

kojoj ne bi bila ravna ni Danteova ni

Balzacova uobrazilja.

Vanda se podrugljivo smijuljila dok

ju je Daut Arfadžan svečanim glasom

uvjeravao da ono što on govori je živa-

živcata istina. Kao dokaz ovoj svojoj

tvrdnji potrudi se navesti sijaset

primjera od literature do običnog

života. Oboje su se smijali svojim

zabludama. Nešto zagrijani votkom, koju

je Daut pronašao u svom kućnom buffetu,

smijali su se ovim svojim prostodušnim i

promućurnim zaključcima koji su trebali

značiti da su se već konačno oslobodili

i riješili iluzija iz mladosti; iskustvo

im ne dozvoljava da u sebi ne osluškuju

logiku hladnog razuma. Oni par puta u

odu-ševljenju pljesnuše jedno drugom

444

Suze Dauta Arfadžana dlanom o dlan posmatrajući jedno drugo

očima punim sjaja. Niko od njih dvoje se

ne odvaži reći ono što u stvari misli.

Oboje su osjećali da se nešto veliko

između njih zanavijek ispriječilo kao

ogromni zid kojeg treba neko od njih

dvoje preskočiti. Ko će prvi i kako to

izvesti? Da bi olakšali jedno drugom

takvu odvaž-nost, oni nađoše zabavu oko

dugmića Vandinog kaputa. On ih je tobože

s pažnjom razgledao te ih nježno okretao

među prstima. Odmah do njegove ruke

počivali su njeni prsti. Šutnja se

dramatično uselila među njih. Oboje su

dobro osjećali što bi ona mogla značiti.

Daut je svu tu pretjerano ludu i

grešnu igru izvodio u nedostatku mašte

jer je živio u strahu da će kad-tad

445

Sead Mahmutefendić

morati popustiti te biti prisiljen

saopćiti Vandi svoje bojazni u vezi s

Mileninim nestankom, kao i sumnje u vezi

s Mileninim dolaskom u njegov život,

čiji je ona bila svjedok i posrednik.

Takva njegova odluka zahtijevala je od

njega čitavu njegovu hrabrost. To se

moralo izvesti na taj način da se ničim

ne povrijede sadašnja njena materinska

osjećanja prema Ledi; - za ono što je

činila za njegovu djevojčicu bio joj je

neizmjerno zahvalan.

On je htio početi s pitanjima i već

ih je u sebi izreka, ali se još nije

usuđivao saopćiti ih naglas. Savla-đivao

se dok je posmatrao ukočene, koštunjave

Vandine prste. Koliko su njih dvoje

stariji i koliko godina je prošlo od

446

Suze Dauta Arfadžana onog vremena kad su poznanici očekivali

njihovo sigurno vjenčanje. Činilo mu se

da nije zgodno započinjati čeprkati u

tom pravcu. Bojao se da takvom svojom

indiskretnom neopreznošću ne izgubi

drugarčinu i sebi i Ledi. Trebalo je,

bar što se tiče njenog provodadžisanja,

ugušiti u sebi takvu inicijativu i

nepotrebnu ljubopitljivost. Što se ima

ti ispitivati? - bilo pa prošlo! Ako se

nešto i ružno dogodilo, to se više ne da

ispraviti. Okolnosti ne idu, sada,

radoznalosti na ruku. S druge, pak,

strane nije mu se činilo baš zgodnim da

stvar ostavi zaboravu.

Daut Arfadžan je sjedio ne mičući

se, dok su mu usta čudno podrhtavala i

jasno se moglo vidjeti da mu srce bije o

447

Sead Mahmutefendić

rebra. Što se tiče Vande, ona ga je svo

to vrijeme jedva jednom pogledala.

Osjećala je da je on ima nešto pitati.

To mu je još ranije jasno vidjela po

napregnutom izrazu lica. Ton je, pak,

osjećao u sebi da će ga silna

ljubopitljivost, koja se već graničila s

tremom, natjerati da se zaplete u

razgovor, kojeg je on sa svoje strane

započeo uzbuđenim opisivanjem njihovog

doživljaja, susreta s Milenom u običnom

snu.

Vanda nije ništa mogla pametnije

uraditi već da se nasmije, ali tako da

ga ne dotakne njen smijeh niti da ga

povrijedi. Taj smješak, po Dautovom

mišljenju, oslobađao je njega od njenog

prijekora i optužbe, sažaljenja ako on

448

Suze Dauta Arfadžana uistinu misli da bi to moglo biti tačno

što mu se dogodilo u snu. Besumnje, to

mu je ona mogla sada u oči reći.

Doduše, i Daut, koji je za svo

vrijeme svoje priče, najpažljivije

motrio izraze na njenom licu, morao je

osjetiti neku vrstu olakšanja kad je

vido da se ona nije osjetila ni najmanje

pogođenom njegovim posrednim insinu-

acijama pa je, uporedo s tim, morao

savlađivati u sebi dra-matična maštanja

govornika koja su lako mogla uskoro

izni-jeti svu njegovu brižljivo skrivanu

paranoju.

Nakon što završi, isljednički

isčekujući njenu reakci-ju, ona ga

sasvim ozbiljno i strogo upita: “Da li

ti možda vjeruješ tom snu ili mi ga

449

Sead Mahmutefendić

poturaš tek tako da mi ga pričaš, priče

radi? Dosad te nisam poznavala kao

praznovjernog.”

Da bi stvar otpleo i okrenuo na

šalu, on natoči sebi i njoj još po jednu

čašicu votke, lukavo uzgred ustvrdivši

da ga je majka učila da svaki san

prijatelju valja ispričati. To je na

brzinu slagao, jer mu ona nije nikad

tako nešto govorila. On je znao da

Vanda nije naivna, te je osjetio kako se

sad izumeđu njih stvara, i pored

njegovog nastojanja da je uvjeri kako je

sve u redu, neki podrugljivi ponor

između onog što je stvarno bilo i

njegovog sumnjičenja. Na jednoj strani

stoji ona koja sve zna, a na drugoj je

on, koji misli i sumnja, a ne zna i nije

450

Suze Dauta Arfadžana siguran. A ona, mrtva-hladna, svojim

metalnim, jeftinim, namješteno dubokim i

strogim glasom, ostavlja mu slobodu da

svojoj mašti predstavi užasnu sliku

njenog tajnog dogovora s Milenom, koji

je njena osveta za ono što ju je Daut

tako davno napustio i pomrsio joj račune

s njim. Njemu ništa drugo nije ostalo

nego da krči palac zdrave noge u kućnoj

papuči.

- Ako me pitaš za Milenu dok si bio

u zatvoru - reče Vanda hladno - onda bih

ti mogla reći sasvim malo, jer me ona

nije toliko zanimala koliko sam bila

povrijeđena zbog njenog ponašanja

nasuprot tvom velikodušnom gestu

preuzima-nja njene krivice na sebe.

Jedino će to biti valjan razlog što ću

451

Sead Mahmutefendić

ti dati nešto. Nakon toga otpati i biće

ti lakše. Poslije toga ćeš izaći čist i

tup na svaku bol. Tek ćeš tad naći

smirenje i osjetit ćeš koliko prija

topla zraka sunca. Sad moram ići u

školu. Predveče ću ti po učeniku poslati

Milenin dnevnik. Vjerovatno sam surova,

ali znam dobro što te muči.

22.

1. decembar - Još sam u jednu praznu imračnu rupu pala. Vidjelasam D. kako odlazi na duževrijeme. Ostavlja mene iovo u meni. Plakala sam.Mislila sam da ćupoludjeti.

14. maj - Tužna sam cijelo proljeće.Evo me ovdje skoro nabespuću. Što bih da mamanije uz mene. Ponekad

452

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

vidim kako se sve razmičeispred mene: zemlja,zidovi, pod, nebo. Pitammamu vidi li ona testvari. Ona mi kaže da nevidi.

16. maj - Ne mogu se pomiriti da meljudi ovako sažaljivogledaju. Ja i mama živimood očeve penzije. Nekakokrpamo kraj s krajem. Štobih tek mislila da je D.bio za volanom? Ljudi mesažaljevaju i njemupripisuju sramotu. Službe-no je dobio otkaz odškole. Samo se do šestmjeseci prašta. Tako stojiu zakonu.Po cijeli dan ja i mamaslažemo pasijans. Spremamose za moj porođaj koji ćeuskoro.

3. jun - Danas sam izišla izrodilišta. Prvog junarodila sam curicu. Odmahsu mi došli u sobu i

453

Sead Mahmutefendić

zatražili ime za dijete.Leda će se zvati, odlučilasam. To sam sastavila odprva dva slova mog nadimka- Lena i Dautovog imena.Tako će bar biti uvjerenda je dijete njegovo. Znamda sumnja, ali nije imaohrabrosti upitati me toglasno.Doktor Đerić mi jeobjasnio značenje togimena. Kao - postojilegenda - da je to imežene spartanskog kraljaTindareja, koju jeobljubio Zeus pretvorivšise u labuda.Mama me je sačekalataksijem ispred glavnogulaza bolnice. Jadna mama,uvijek je patila zaceremonijama. Ta je znalanapamet koliko je svakamoja prijateljica imalasvatova i auta na svadbi,

454

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

“Da si se za crnogCiganina udala, tvoja bisvadba bila pristojnija” -znala mi je čestoprigovarati.Dobra moja mama. Ipak jaimam samo nju i, sad, ovumalu drekavicu-kakicu.

28. avgust, srijeda - Topao i sunčan dan.Danas smo bile na izletu.Sinoć nam je bio na večerijedan moj prijatelj izškolskih dana. Nekad bilaluda za njim. Spomenulasam mu to. Smijali smo se.On je rekao: “Nikad nijekasno”.Sad je trgovački putnik.Prodaje po Jugosla-vijiženske dezodoranse, otmjenje i veoma ugladjen. Uzto, savršeno galantan.Onakvi na kakve sam većzaboravila živeći u ovojse-lendri među ovimdivljacima. Pričao mi jeda je čuo za mene kad sam

455

Sead Mahmutefendić

se ovdje udala. Put ga jeprvi put nanio kroz ovajTeksas, pa je odlučio dame vidi. Po ne znam kojiput molio je moju mamu zaispriku ako je na smetnji.Sirota mama nije uopćeshvatila što se on njojtoliko ispričava. Poslijesam joj nasamo objasnilada mu je jako nezgodno štodolazi u stan udatoj ženi,kojoj je - uz to - i mužmo-mentalno u zatvoru.“Glupost!” - rekla je mama- “ta nisu valjda đačkeuspomene za đubrište?” Bašovim riječima je to rekla.O Dautu je, veli, čitao unovinama. Rekao mi je dasuosjeća sa mnom, alimoram biti jaka jer ježivot najjači i živjeti semora dalje. Rekao mi je ito da se ne ljutim na tošto moram spomenuti dasvakome danas dozvole da

456

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

sjedne za volan auta.Dakle, to je živa kul-turai živa enciklopedija.Koliko samo stranih riječiu rječniku, i to sve smjerom. U svako doba danai noći zna tačno koji jekurs stra-nih valuta. D.nije znao ni kolika mu jeplata. Kad mu spomenem nešto štomiriše na moju pohvalu, onse zagleda negdje udaljinu onim svojimsjetnim pogledom i kaže:“Ništa ja ne znam kolikobi se trebalo znati”.Oduvijek je bio takav. S.nas je odveo svojim automu Klikovac. Prije toga,mami i meni poklonio jekolekcije najskupljihparfema. Od prvog dozadnjeg - Made in France.Već sam zaboravila da osimsmrada postoje i mirisi.

457

Sead Mahmutefendić

Našla sam mamu da plače ukupatilu. Kaže, sve joj senakupilo. “Gdje mi,kćerce, živimo?”Na izletu je bilo veselo.

31.avgust,uveče - S. je svratio do nas napovratku iz Be-ograda.Mami i meni kupio je dvaogromna buketa predivnihžutih gladiola. Osim toga,meni je pokloniočetvrtastu satensku kutijuuvezanu crvenom, svilenomtrakom. Unutra je bilakolekcija najskupljihkrema, parfema i sprejeva.Taman sam zaustila dakažem kako nije bilopotrebno izlagati setolikom trošku, ali me jeon preduhitrio da mi kažeonim svojim predivnim,baršunastim glasom: “To jenešto najskromnije uodnosu na ono čime treba

458

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

podariti vašu božanskuljepotu i čednost”.Ponovo sam zatekla mamu daplače. Ni ja više nisammogla zadržati suze. “Ovajzna da živi” - rekla jemama - “i alal mu vjera zato, pa neka mu i bude”.Odavno nisam vidjelatakvog kavaljera. Bojim sesebi priznati da me pomaloosvaja njegov šarm. Veče je bilo nezaboravno.Neću ga nikadzaboraviti...

l2.septembar -Primila sam pismo od S. Pišemi da budem dobra ipametna. Piše da će gaposao ponovo donijeti nakrilima meni i mom divnom,prediv-nom, božanskomtijelu. Naziva me tigricomu krevetu. Nikad, kaže, nemože zaboraviti tre-nutkeprovedene uz moje tijelo.Neka mu javim da li bi

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bilo zgodno da svrati domene. Sanjao me jenekoliko puta. Gubi, kaže,svoj mir. Mora supruguobmanjivati da imaposlovnih pro-blema. Šaljemi i adresu. Neka mu pišem- poste restante. Neću da mu pišem. Nesmijem mu otkriti da jedovoljan njegov mig pa dase isti čas stvorim krajnjega. Volim ga. I love S. I´mesory,mister Arfagi-jan.

16. oktobar - S je bio kod nas dva dana.Naveče je prespavao uhotelu, a preko dana jebio kod nas. Mama sepočela plašiti ogovaranja.Rekla sam joj da sam i jastvorenje od krvi i mesa ida imam prava na svojživot. Muž u zatvoru,rodilo se dijete, nigdjemu oca. Je li to život?

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Leda je zamolila S. da jojon bude tata. On senasmijao, pogledao u menei rekao: “djeca najboljeosjete ko je dobarčovjek”.

17. oktobar - S. i ja proveli cijeli danvan mijesta. Imali smoodnos na zadnjem sjedištuauta. Bilo je božanstveno.On je malo drukčije rekao:“Milena, bilo jefenomenalno!”Odsjeli smo u jednomhotelu. Htjela sam gaiskušati pa sam seposlužila jednim oprobanimlukavstvom. Rekla sam muda ovakvo naše skri-vanjenema nikakvog smisla i dabi bilo daleko poštenijeda prekinu vezu i da sesvako vrati svom ognjištu.Ostali bi i daljeprijatelji.

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Kad je to čuo, on jezaplakao, klekao preda mena pod, s obje rukeobgrlio mi koljena i suza-ma mi kvasio gole noge.“Tuci me kao psa, samo dasam uz tebe” - ridao jeon. “Samo da je tebiznati, da je tebi znatikoliko ja patim inespavam. Niko to nerazumije niti može razu-mijeti, pa ni ti, jer timene ne možeš nikadvoljeti onoliko koliko jatebe volim. Moji susreti stobom za moju dušu itijelo su postali pravipraznik”. Ti imaš slatku i dobruženicu i dvoje divnedječice. Oni te trebajui ti si njima potreban.

Ono žena? - Gorko meodozdo pogleda krozsuze. - Ono žena! To je,

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

da prostiš, naj-običnijaškorpija. Ali ne, nećuprotiv nje govoriti. Tone bi bilo ljepo ihumano od mene. Ipak jemajka moje djece. Ja samškorpija, mene trebazgaziti.

Bože dragi, pomislim,uskoro ću i ja za njimpočeti plakati. Neki danda ne zna ništa, a sad daje najgori na svijetu.Neljudski je ovo što činimod njega. Jasno mi je sve.Konačno znam šta je sreća.Sreća je ovo što klečipreda mnom. Tako nježan,tako pažljiv i takoosjećajan čovjek govoritiza sebe? To samo može onajkoga su doveli do očaja. Nisam mogla više izdržati:plakala sam i tresla sekao prutić na vjetru.Jedino što sam uspijela

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izustiti bilo je da mukažem: “Mili! Mili moj!”

29. oktobar - S. je bio ponovo kod nas.Rekao mi je u povjerenjuda je ženi otkrio našuvezu i da je zatražio odnje razvod. Djeca su bilau šoku, osobito starijakćer. Rastali smo se s njegovimobećanjem da će mi uskoroo svemu detaljno pisati. Uormaru, među odijelima,imali smo odnos. Svevješalice su popadale ponama. Ovaj muškić zna štoje seks. Doktor je zanjega. Kad sam mu torekla, on se nasmijao:“Ako sam ja doktor, ti siakademik”. Cijelu noć oka nisamsklopila. Šta ću muodgovoriti ako sve bude uredu sa suprugom? Mogu liD. ostaviti na cijedilu?

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Ne volim ga, ali poštujemnjegovu iskrenost. Šta ćesutra Leda reći? Brak nijeprva bračna noć. Leda ćesigurno biti na očevojstrani. Ali, i ja imampravo na život. On je krivza nesreću. Nije me smioometati. Ne osjećam senimalo krivom ni dužnompred njim i sobom.Ne znam kad sam zadnji puts Ledom se poigrala.Volim s S. Ko je S.? Zarje to uopće bitno?S. je pastuh. I točistokrvni!

19. novembar- S. mi je pisao da moraslužbeno otputovati uLjubljanu.Primila sam D-ovo pismo.Bože, kakva je razli-kaizmeđu ova dva čovjeka:nebo i zemlja. Nimalošarma, nimalo pažnje zamene. Piše mi kao da sam

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ja upravnik zatvora a nenjegova nesretna žena,koja ga ni kriva ni dužnačeka da gospodin dođe.Dođem li ja kao neka Pene-lopa? Žali mi se na usloveu zatvoru, hranu, cmizdri,kuka. Pitam se šta je tomene njemu privuklo. Bogzna sami!

18.decembar - S. mi piše da ima poslapreko glave, ali će moratipronaći sekundu-dvije daskoči do mene, samo tolikoda me vidi. Posao mu idedobro.

25.decembar - S. nam je čestitao Božić iNovu godinu. Poslao nam jepaket. Za mene i mamumaterijale za haljinu odkineske svile, a za Leduvelikog plišanog medu iveliku čokoladu od riže.Piše mu da mu vuše nešaljem pisma na posterestante, jer mu je

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supruga išla dva puta daprovjeri. Sva sreća štonije bilo ništa. Inače,dogovorio se još ranije saslužbenicom na šalteru danikom ne govori za njegovupoštu osim njega.

9. februar - Dobila sam pismo od S.Piše mi da mu supruga nepristaje ni na kakavrazvod. Njihov brak jeušao sad u nešto mirnijevode. D. mi se javio. Pita mezašto mu ne pišem.

14. april - S. mi je zakazao za danastelefonski razgovor. Morambiti u pošti u 18,00 sati.Bojim se da nas neko odpoznatih ne prisluškuje.

Isti dan, 19 sati - S. mi preko telefona kažeda mu je starija kćerpobjegla od kuće. SUP jetraži već 3 dana. Očajanje. Dođe mu da se ubije,da skoči pod voz. Ovako se

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ne može dalje. Šta jestaviti vrat pod točkovevagona? Sekunda. Nitisekunda. A ja?

11. maj - S-inu kćer pronašli ujednoj pećini. Odlučila jeda umre od gladi. Pronašlisu kraj nje i oproštajnopismo. Kao razlog takvojodluci navodi oca. “Zatošto je varao mamu” Morat ćemo prekinuti, kažemi na kraju S. Ja sam bilaonog dana u hoteluuviđavnija od njega. I onsad vidi da je takonajbolje. “Ostat ćemo idalje prijatelji kao danije ništa bilo međunama”. Supruga mu svakogdana pravi scene. Prijetida će se baciti s prozorakad bude najviše svijetana ulici. Prije togarazaslaće pisma njihovim

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

zajedničkim prijateljima ukojima će im reći zbogčega je to učinila.Ucjenjuje ga djecom.Prijete mu i njezinabraća. Živi pakao.- Ja više ovako ne moguizdržati. Oprosti mi akosam se ponio kaogad, aline daj ti bože ovakvogpakla, kojeg ni najvećemdušmaninu ne bihpoželio.

1. jun - Proslavili smo Ledin prvirođendan. Pavo govoreći,ja sam glumila da gaslavim. Misli su mi bilesasvim na drugoj strani. Leda je znala otpjevati Ajedan mali zeko, taj potok tražisvud.

Ljeto - Ljeto smo proveli na moruu našoj porodičnoj kući.Naveče je Leda pokazivalaprstićem na mjemje, neštokasnije na mepec (mjesec),

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danju na mamamaca(magarca) i tražila odmene i bake da joj kupimomamone bombone). Leda se smije najljepše nasvijetu. Umjesto: Daj mi!- kaže: Na mi! Djevojčicajoj je očica. U vuku i sedamkozlića za deblo u koje seslijeva voda kaže da ječamac i brod. Kad je bakapita koliko je sati, onauvijek kaže da je devet.Kad je ljuta kaže: Puti me,puti me na miju! A pjeva:Petopaka s´a u k´vi, notio je Tito p´vi! Kad je s djedom gledala naTV vaterpolo utakmicu,rekla je da se čike peru. Boji se balona. Dok je jednom baka čistilaribu, ugledala je krv paje stala ljubiti ribu darana ne boli.

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana

Kaže za kafu da jezdrobljena zemlja.S. mi se nije javio nijednom riječju.

13.oktobar - Danas je S. bio kod nas.Veli da je došao dapošteno razjasnimo nekestvari. 1. Supruga mu ne da

razvod.2. Kćer mu se vratila. Ne

zanima ga više njegovasreća ili nesreća. Samoda su mu djeca živa izdrava. I? pitam ja. - Što tipredlažeš?

Najbolje bi bilo dazaborave ono što jebilo među njima.

A ovo? - pokažem muja na trbuh.

Nije lijepo što minisi odmah rekla -

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reče on nakon nekogvremena sav zbunjen

Evo ti sad kažem. Milena, nemojmo seigrati djece. Ja imaženu i djecu. Ti imašmuža i dijete. Muž tisamo što nije izišao.A za to - pokaza onrukom na moj trbuh nine trepnuvši kao dareklamira svoje kreme- Ja ću platiti svekolko bude koštalo.Mogu ti naći dobrogdoktora.

Za ovo treba bitiakademik - rekoh jasva u očaju. - Većsam u petom mjesecu.

Naćemo i njega akotreba - reče S.

A ako neću? - rekogja.

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Onda je to već tvojastvar. - naceri mi seon ravno u lice. -Samo što ja tu nemamviše ništa, jasno?Uostalom, ko zna jeli to moje? To ni Bogne može dokazati.

Nisam imala snage da gapotjeram. Čini mi se akobih otvorila usta, ističas bi sve izrigala izsebe. On se ljuljao ispredmene. Morala sam sepridržati za prvu stvaršto sam je dohvatila.Rukom sam mu dala znak dami se gubi ispred očiju, akad sam vidjela da stvarnoodlazi, znala sam da gavidim zadnji put i da jemeđu nama sve gotovo.Iluzija više nisam nimaloimala. Njemu je bilonajvažnije kako će štoodvažnije preći onaj putpreko sobe i da se izgubi

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iza vrata prije nego štoga ja - eventualno - neprokunem. I to ne tolikoradi sebe. Čini mi se da ipored svega nije mu bilolako. Soba se okrenula oko mene.Mama me dignula s poda.Čelo mi je vlažila hladnomkrpom. Udišem kao da mi jeto zadnji vazduh. Teba mimnogo vazduha. Više nisamničija: ni D-ova, ni S-ina, ni Ledina, ni ovogdjeteta u utrobi mojoj.

2. novembar - Bolesna sam i nemoćna.Nervi su mi sasvim prikraju. Htjela bih da sedržim pribrano. Bojim seda će me to uskoroiznevjeriti. Najviše me jestid Lede. Niti pričam,niti se igram s njom.Nesretna mama s onakovisokim pritiskom i s onimnogama kao u bedevije

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potpuno ju je preuzela.Stisla jadna zube i dela.Šta ja mogu kad me više niza šta nije briga? Mama me još nijednom nijeupitala šta ću činiti sbebom. Očekujemo je kaonuklearnu bombu.

13.novembar - Pet je mjeseci kako sam udrugom stanju. Odlučilasam abortirati. Ljekarikažu da je opasno,preopasno. Ne želim S-inupomoć. Neka su mu sasrećom njegova supruga,njegova djeca i njegovmili mir.Mamu sam ostavila kući sLedom. Ko bude pitao zamene, otišla sam D-u nanekoliko dana. Pobačaj ćuizvršiti, daleko, u jednojbolnici. Tamo me niko nepoznaje.

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Tamo te niko ne poznaje i voli,a ovdje ti svako bratskiruku steže.

15.novembar - Kod mene je bila Vanda.Rekla sam joj gdje idem.Nije bila iznenađena. Nalicu sam joj primijetilakiseo osmijeh. Vjerojatnojoš nije preboljela Dauta.Sjećam se da mi je jednomrekla za njega: “Takvi suse trebali roditi hiljadugodina ranije ili hiljadugodina kasnije. Nisu takviljudi za ova majmunskavremena.” Rekla sam joj ako se neštodogodi sa mnom da pomognemami oko Lede do Dautovogdolaska. Neka Dautu rekneo njoj što hoće - niti štada doda, niti šta daoduzme. Njoj je ionako sve

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odavno postalo svejedno iužasno besmisleno. Reklasam joj i to: Ja sanjamsvog bivšeg Dauta kao štoti sanjaš mog. Sreća je,izgle-da, uvijek s onestrane zida - nedodirljivaza našu kratku i pohlepnuruku. Sreća je pobje-gulja, fatamorgana.

22.novembar - Dodala svojom rukom: Vanda Nahod.

Odjel za ginekologiju i akušerstvoOpće bolnice poslao telegram naČednu Kovačević sljedećegsadržaja: MILENA ARFADŽAN, rođ.KOVAČEVIĆ UMRLA NA POROĐAJUU NEDELJU NAVEČE. BEBA TAKOĐEUMRLA. TIJELA MOŽETE PREUZETI UUTORAK NA ODJELU ZAPATOLOGIJU. UPRAVA.

P.S. Napisala Vanda N. svojomrukom.

Službenik na pošti rastrubio pocijelom mjestu gdje je okončalasvoj život Milena Arfadžan. Svisažaljevaju Dauta.

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GROZNO I ODVRATNO!

Između korica teke i zadnjeg lista

Daut primjeti papir ispisan dječijom

rukom. On poče čitati.

13. jun 1978. g.

Dragi moj tata i mama,

Mnogo sam se razveselila kad samprimila vaša pisma i crteže. Mama mi jepreljepo nacrtala balerinu. Tata mi jesve ljepo nacrtao sve ću ćuvati zauspomenu ja znam dase i vi radujjetemome pismu pazato ja vama pišem Ljepomije kod moje bake i dobromi je bilo biljepo daste i vi ovdje pa dasmo svizajedno skupa. Baka mi svašta kupi. Jućemi je kupila breskve. Jel se vi punokupate. Ja i baka prićamo ovama. Baš bivoljela da svi budemo zajeno. Punopoljubaca šalje vam vama LedaJa i moja baka se divno slažemo i ona jemeni najbolja baka na svjetu. Dobila samosip po tijelu. Proćićemi. Baki je puno 478

Suze Dauta Arfadžana žao što sam se razbolila i da nemožemoić u šetnju. Puno vas voli i šalje vampoljubac sa rukicom vaša Leda. šaljemvam ovog labuda što sam ga zavasnacrtala.

Daut se zagleda u Ledin crtež.

Osjeti da bi mogao uskoro zasuziti, ali

na vrijeme stisnu oči i ne dozvoli da mu

one zamute pogled.

Pa neka je ovo sve tačno, zašto je

dijete lagala da smo ja i Milena nekud

zajedno?

Bože moj, pa ja konačno sve vidim!

Hvala ti što sam saznao istinu. Sad me

ona ne muči niti mi je ona više

potrebna. Teško mi je zbog ovog što sam

pročitao. Ipak, ja sam tu ženu volio.

Sad znam da nisam umišljao što sam

sumnjao u njenu vjernost dok sam bio u

zatvoru. 479

Sead Mahmutefendić

Ono - za Ledu - neka mi sam Bog

oprosti.

23.

Prije svega, od samog početka, i

pored onog izraza nastranosti, svidjelo

mi se neobično tužno lice vrhovnog

sudije, te mi se tad učinila bez

razložna i suvišna moja strepnja prema

vlasti koju sam oduvijek dovodio u vezu

s mojom ravnodušnošću što je, u stvari,

bila nenaklonost koju sam nosio u srebi,

tako da sam često znao ustuknuti

navodeći sebe na oprez kako bih izbjegao

nemile posljedice ako bih kojim slučajem

došao u sukob sa zakonom ili bih došao u

neugodnu situaciju da trpim njegovu

prisilu, ispitivanja, provjeravanja 480

Suze Dauta Arfadžana mojih iskaza, ponovna preslušavanja, a

uz to i sumnjičenja koja su me

ponižavala, dovodeći me ponekad do prave

provale bijesa, pa je to u meni još više

učvršćivalo odbojnost i nepovjerenje

prema vlasti tako da su se sve moje

dotadašnje predpostavke odnosile na onaj

dio mojih sumnji koje sam sa zebnjom

krio i držao skrivene u sebi te -

napokon - nisam poricao ono što sam

učinio, mada sam protestirao ispred

sudačkog stola za neke nezgrapne

formulacije u optužnici, a to je da se

radi o apsolutno indiferentnoj individui

koja je s apsolutnim predomišljajem

iskoristila trenutak nepažnje dežurnih

milicionara, u toku samog suđenja, s

ciljem da nad inkriminiranim osobama

izvrši akt krvne osvete zbog481

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napastvovanja kćerke Lede Arfadžan što

će kasnije biti uzrokom da spomenuta

Leda Arfadžan u trenucima

neuračunljivosti i psihičke labilnosti

izvrši samoubistvo bacivši se sa

željezničkog mosta na kolski put; - eto:

zbog ovog drugog, nikog živog da zaboli

glava, pa ni ove tu sudije, ni tužioca,

ni sudske vještake, ni miliciju, ni

kurčevu pravdu, kao ni ostale u ovoj

sudnici već, naprotiv, nakon svake moje

nesuvisle rečenice ili neke ironične

tužiočeve replike pronese se salom

smijuljenje da bi se to pretvorilo u

šutnju ili pak glasno neodobravanje u

trenutku kad moj advokat ili ja,

odgovarajući na njegova pitanja nešto

primijetio što bi s pravnog aspekta

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Suze Dauta Arfadžana moglo ići u moju korist zbog čega je

glavni sudija nekoliko puta morao

upozoriti prisutne da će biti prisiljen

isprazniti sudnicu ukoliko se to još

samo jedamput ponovi, izgovarajući pri

tom patetično i naglašavajući posebno i

pažljivo svaku riječ da sud ne želi

ostavljati utisak nekog pristrasnog

suđenja i izvršiti po svaku cijenu još

jednu odmazdu više, izuzev ako utvrdi da

za tako nešto postoje neoborivi,

činjenični dokazi, i to sve s ciljem da

suđenje završi objektivno u duhu Ustava

i Krivičnog zakonika uz prethodno

pravedno i pravno vaganje svih motiva

optuženih - kako otežavajućih, tako i

olakšavajućih - koji su ih rukovodili i

naveli da učine ovaj nečuveni zločin

nakon čega će ovaj sud donijeti presudu483

Sead Mahmutefendić

i nakon čega je onda u meni počelo

izazivati podozrenje da je cijela ova

pozorišna predstava, čiji sam ja, eto,

postao prvak, a ovaj sudački stol da je

u stvari nastavak one lakrdije ispoljene

još u vrijeme istražnog postupka nad

Ledinim napasnicima, te sam se radije

pokušavao isključiti iz cijelog tog

parlatorija vraćajući se razmišljanjima,

metafizici, Ledi iz onih sretnijih dana,

u isto vrijeme pitajući samog sebe po

milijoniti put, kad mi još niko nije bio

u stanju dati valjan odgovor što se to u

njoj prelomilo te je odlučila da mahne

rukom ovom svijetu a da nije potražila

spas, bar u meni pa makar i s iluzijom

da se drži te moje slamke, koja bi,

možda, tu njenu odluku mogla preinačiti

484

Suze Dauta Arfadžana usljed mojih jakih, ubjedljivih, rodi-

teljskih riječi i preklinjanja za njena

povrijeđena osjeća-nja, ojađenu dušu i

ukaljano tijelo ili je pak vjerovala da

ih više ne može iznaći, ili - avaj! -

mislila da ni ne postoje takve snažne i

iskrene riječi u ljudskom jeziku koje

krijepe i vidaju, pa se, izgleda,

pomirena s tom groznom i žalosnom

činjenicom odlučila da ćuti za prvo

vrijeme, mada ju je mirni i strpljivi

inspektor za krvne i seksualne delikte

ispitivao o svim detaljima koji su se

ticali samog čina obljube s takvom

ironijom kao što sam ja u svoje vrijeme

znao upitati dežurnog učenika zašto

komadić krede leži zdrobljen na podu; -

ona je zbog toga još više tonula u svoj

jad i šutnju iza koje se skrivala kao485

Sead Mahmutefendić

iza štita te od stida nije odgovarala ni

na jedno pitanje, premda ih je on s

konjskim strpljenjem i magarećom

tvrdoglavnošću po nekoliko puta

ponavljao u raznim oblicima lukavo je

pokušavajući navesti da iziđe iz svog

oklopa ne bi li je na taj način načeo

svojom upornošću što se krila iza strogo

sračunate mimike i gestikulacije, koja

je imala za cilj ostaviti na nju utisak

stopostotnog saosećaja i rezignacije

zbog primi-tivizma onih momaka, a to je

sve opet imalo za cilj da više jednom

prestane buljiti u jednu tačku preda se

i da već jednom otvori ta svoja prokleta

usta i da u hip izdiktira

daktilografkinji ono što se stvarno

dogodilo, ali bojala se, znam ja da se

486

Suze Dauta Arfadžana užasno bojala zbog tog pismenog traga na

bijelom po sebi ispod koje će na kraju

morati još jednom drmnuti svoj potpis

što će biti ujedno, za vječnost pečat,

dokaz i javno priznanje za ono što joj

se dogodilo, pa je nesretnica očekivala

kroz polusvijest hoće li ta debela,

prežderana, plava, ondulirana kravetina

od daktilografkinje lupiti po tipci

mašine, a onda kad je vidjela da to nije

ni jednom uradila, ona na trenutak

zaboravi zbog čega je ona završila u

ovoj sobi pred ovim pizdunom, pažljivo

izbrijane brade i s prvim znacima

ćelavosti na tjemenu, namirisanog

jeftinom kolonjskom vodom i nervoznog

nosa i koji se znao jedino uzbuđivati

pred porcijom škampi, čašom vina i

dobrom, sisatom ženskom, tako da joj se487

Sead Mahmutefendić

ova igra učini zanimljivom utoliko više

što je predosjetila neku rezervnu snagu

u sebi baš zbog toga što nije pružila

tom govnaru i jebivjetru zadovoljstvo da

s prikrivenom perverzijom sluša i uživa

u njenoj bijednoj ispovijedi pa da mu se

i ona stvar ukruti u gaćama dok ona pred

njim iznosi svoj jad i bol, koji bi je

još više unizili - ako još ima nešto

niže - što bi više o napasnicima

raspredala i čačkala po neprijatnom

sjećanju kad joj njene birane riječi

mogu sravnati s njenim prisjećanjem -

sopstvenim ruganjem, te joj je, stoga,

jedino preostalo da odloži one svoje

koštunjave ruke u krilo i posmatra

nervozne kretnje inspektorovih ruku,

dobovanje njegovih prstiju po hrpi

488

Suze Dauta Arfadžana papira iz koje je kasnije izvukao jedan

na kojem je njegovom rukom bilo sitno

ispisano ono što je uspio za svo ovo

vrijeme iz nje izcijediti; nju je

zabavljalo što je on pokušava dočekati u

zasjedi ne bi li čuo iz njenih usta šta

se u stvari dogodilo 27. marta 1984.

godine, kada je uveče sva nacifrana Leda

otišla sa svoje dvije prijateljice

Tatjanom i Marinom u selo Klikovac na

igranku i kada su sve tri djevojke

ostale do kasno čekajući lokalni

autobus, pošto ples u domu nije održan,

i tu je - tad - njih napala grupa

mladića za koje se kasnije ispostavilo

da ih je četvoro; Tatjana i Marina su

uspijele pobjeći uz pomoć mraka, a Leda

će ostati sama i posljedice takve

situacije su kasnije morale, prirodno,489

Sead Mahmutefendić

podleći pravosuđu: što je bilo? kako se

sve to dogodilo? ko je kriv? i na

bezbroj drugih pitanja, ali se ubrzo od,

naizgled, sasvim jasnih dokaza došlo u

ćorsokak, jer od Lede dolazi nova izjava

da mladići nisu krivi i da je svemu tome

ona kriva, mada iskusni pravnici znaju

vrijednost sličnih poricanja, te na nju

nisu obraćali pažnju, a onda Leda piše

još jednu izjavu, zatim još jednu uporno

uzimajući krivicu na sebe nakon čega

stiže telefonski poziv miliciji:

“Pogledajte ko je Leda Arfadžan? Zašto

je ona došla u Klikovac na igranku na

sastanak s oženjenim čovjekom, a mladići

koje vi povlačite su zlato?”, pa onda

još jedan telefonski poziv iz seoske

mjesne zajednice, pa još jedan iz

490

Suze Dauta Arfadžana peradarske farme, pa još jedan iz

Socijalističkog saveza, te iz mnogih

drugih društveno-političkih struktura, i

tada se od tog trenutka istraga gnusnog

zločina preokrenula na ispitivanje

Ledinog morala i Leda će se odlučiti na

ćutanje, te će uporno ćutiti pred onim

picanom sve do šestog avgusta kada se

bacila nesretnica s mosta vjerovatno ne

trepnuvši što ću ja o svemu tome misliti

i kakvu će pustoš u meni ostaviti, mada

ja, istini za volju, ne vjerujem ni u

Boga ni u Đavola, morao sam u sebi

suzdržati višak očaja i da mi ne pođu

suze na oči, stisnuo sam kapke očne

koliko sam god mogao da ne vidim kroz

prozor kako pronose na vrelom

avgustovskom suncu drveni kovčeg s mojom

curicom, pa sam tad jasno zamislio njenu491

Sead Mahmutefendić

sitnu priliku - unutra - toliko jasno da

sam isti čas morao udahnuti vazduh što

sam god više mogao kako me ne bi

zagušila sparina nakon čega sam još neko

vrijeme usredsre-đeno piljio u šare na

linoleumu, te nisam imao snage odvoji-ti

oči od tih čudnovatih arabeski, misleći

- mada nisam nikad vjerovao ni u Boga ni

u Đavola - čije li je djelo u onom

prostom drvenom kovčegu: Božje? đavolje?

ili moje?, i od toga mi je krv

zastajala, te sam naprosto, osjećao da

bih mogao isti čas postati pobožan, a

ako to ne uspijem, da bih se uskoro

mogao predati činima Đavola te biti

njegov ushićeni sluga samo zbog toga što

su se moje oči nagledale svega za ovo

nekoliko zadnjih mjeseci pa sad

492

Suze Dauta Arfadžana preneraženo zirkaju u novog inspektora,

kome je sva stvar oko Lede predata i za

kojeg sam čuo da važi za stručnjaka u

takvim poslovima, te da je svojevrsni

čistač, jer je više puta uspijevao

razmrsiti klupko pred kojim su drugi

nemoćno spuštali ruke, i koji mi, kratko

i krajnje službeno reče da je pročitao

tri toma dokumenata, izjava, izvještaja

i karakteristika, ali bi bolje bilo da

nema ničega; jednostavnije bi bilo

početi iz početka, jer je shvatio da tu

ima mnogo lažnih izvještaja pa je za

godinu i po dana laž očvrsnula i stekla

izgled istinitosti, pa kako je sad

razbiti? i kako je sad razdvojiti od

gomile koju je napravila teška

artiljerija, druže moj, lako je

ispričati što radi istražni sudija,493

Sead Mahmutefendić

daleko je složenije kako se pronalazi

istina u njegovom poslu, jer svako lako

prati svoju misao, čak usmjerava njen

tok, ali kako, odakle i iz kakvih

skrovišta nastaje misao? pokušajte,

druže Arfadžan, shvatiti tu zagonetku

približno tako u kontinuitetu, iz dubine

iskustva, intuicije, profesionalnih

spoznaja isplivava u početku

predpostavka, zatim se ona pretvara u

verziju i tek poslje napornog rada u

dokaz ili opravdanje pa je u mnogome

ovdje istinita šaljiva izjava Ajnštajna

o tome kako se vrši otkriće: svi znaju

da je to nemoguće; postoji jedna

neznalica koja to ne zna i ona vrši

otkrić; eto, odprilike, nešto kao ja,

druže Arfadžan, ne mogu to tačno

494

Suze Dauta Arfadžana objasniti jer nisam pjesnik, ja - vidite

- kad postoje makar kakvi-takvi

činjenični tragovi... evo, na primjer,

sjećam se istrage, tada je u bolnici

umro neki Fišić od mnogih rana koje su

mu nanesene, kako su dokazivali

materijali istrage, u pijanoj tuči kraj

pivskog kioska, a onda je na stolu mog

kolege zazvonio telefon, javila se jedna

žena, koja se nije željela predstaviti i

rekla da čovjek leži kraj kioska: bila

je tuča i Fišić leži tamo, ali nisu to

mogli učiniti njegovi drugovi u

pijančevanju i nanijeti mu takve rane te

su tražili nekog ko je očigledno nestao

s mjesta događaja pa ga nisu našli, a

ja, druže Arfadžan, koji sam kroz dvije

godine preuzeo istragu, pažljivo sam

pročitao medicinsku eksper-tizu, pa sam495

Sead Mahmutefendić

onda u tom kopanju obratio pažnju na

jedno-stavnu stvar: sve rane i

ogrebotine nalazile su se s jedne strane

tijela nakon čega mi se u glavi rodila

predpostavka da su bili u nekoj

zatvorenoj, tijesnoj prostoriji i da se

to nije dogodilo kraj kioska pa je

dalje, kako se to kaže, bila samo stvar

tehnike: tukli su Fišića ženini rođaci,

u kuhinji između stola i frižidera, pa

je moj kolega izvodio potpuno logičke

zaključke o nepoznatom, ali nije mogao

uvi-djeti ono što je jasno i razgovjetno

napisano u ekspertizi, jer obratiti

pažnju na očigledno nije tako

jednostavno, tako i u slučaju vaše kćeri

Lede Arfadžan, jer ona više neće ništa

dodati svojim četirima izjavama: jedna

496

Suze Dauta Arfadžana okrivljuje mla-diće iz Klikovca, a u

trima uzima krivicu na sebe, pa je bio

logičan zaključak predhodne istrage: ili

je stvarno u prvoj izjavi lažno optužila

mladiće, ili su joj zaprjetili, a možda

su je i potplatili; u bilo kom slučaju

izvodi se zaključak koji osuđuje Ledu -

zašto četiri izjave? zašto je Leda tako

uporno uvjeravala da je svemu ona kriva?

jer, uzgred rečeno, pravnici znaju takve

slučajeve da je “žrtva” sličnog zločina

obična ucjenjivačica dok je, u drugim

slučajevima, granicu između udvaranja i

zločina teško sa strane utvrditi, pa se

neko i koristi da izmami novac, da se

osveti, pa je takva verzija u tom

slučaju i figurirala: lažno je optužiti

iz osjećaja osvete, ali zašto je ona

izvršila samoubistvo? ne povezuje mi se497

Sead Mahmutefendić

to u jedan lanac, mada se prethodna

istraga, potpuno logički, sukobljavala s

mladićima, vjerovatnim uzročnicima

zločina, koji su umjeli zauzeti čvrstu

kružnu odbranu: očigledne činjenice nisu

poricali, ali su im ipak davali

ubjedljivo objašnjenje, jer se, poslije

događaja od 27. marta, niko od njih nije

s Ledom susretao, pa u čemu je onda

stvar? zašto se Leda jednostavno nije

odrekla optužbe, već je tri puta

okrivljavala samu sebe, pa se u postupku

povlačio motiv: ili je, prvo, sama bila

vrlo lošeg ponašanja, a - drugo - da

nije bila te noći “baš sasvim pri sebi”,

te da bješe “nešto više zanesena”, što

se meni učinilo najprije kao nespretan i

glupav zaključak, a možda i povlađivanje

498

Suze Dauta Arfadžana drskoj i zlonamjernoj zloupotrebi

presude ranije porote, kojoj u

nedostatku dokaza, poštenja, volje i

obične logike, nije ništa drugo

preostalo već da donesu oslobađajuću

presudu za četvoricu mladića te tako da

javnosti prikažu Ledu kao hirovitu,

luckastu i lakoumnu djevojku, pa mi se,

stoga, učinila primamljivom i sasvim

opravdavajućom mogućnost da sam

raskrstim s Ledinim napasnicima time što

ću u ponovljenom suđenju blijeda lica,

pritajenog i zloslutnog ushićenja stati

za ogradu ispred sudačkog stola, a potom

im okrenuti leđa, te sam ne tražeći

dozvolu od njih da govorim, počeo sasvim

tiho pripovijedati, a potom nešto

glasnije, dovoljno glasno da me čuju i

oni u posljednjim redovima, legendu o499

Sead Mahmutefendić

kralju koji je živio sa svojom lijepom

kćerkom, okružen ljepotom, nježnošću i

srećom tako da je izgubio svaki oprez,

pa zadnjeg dana zime, na molbu

sveštenika, dopusti da se pripadnici

njihove sekte nasele u njegovu

kraljevinu; mračilo se kad nekoliko

sveštenika stupi pred kralja kazivajući

kako mu se moraju dostojno odužiti za

ukazanu pažnju i, da bi mu na neki način

iskazali svoju odanost, zamoliše ga da

im pusti za tu veče njegovu prelijepu

kćer kako bi mu preko nje odali čast

osobitom ceremonijom na što se, u

početku, kralj nećkao i govorio da mu

takva vrsta časti nije potrebna te da će

biti najsretniji ako se budu osjećali

zadovoljni u njegovoj zemlji, ali

500

Suze Dauta Arfadžana sveštenici su inzistirali da je takva

počast u skladu s njihovim religioznim

tradicijama i da će na takav način

jedino umilostiviti svoje božanstvo,

boga rata, te ako to večeras ne bi

učinili - svi bi pali u njegovu nemilost

a s njima i svi oni koji bi živjeli na

toj zemlji, pa kad ču njihovo

obrazloženje, kralj popusti i dopusti

kćeri da joj tu veče ukažu počast svojim

ceremonijama, te se ona odjenu u

najljepše haljine što ih je imala i na

rastanku je otac poljubi u čelo i reče

joj da se rano vrati a on će to

prenijeti vojnicima koji će otići po nju

pa ona, saslušavši riječi svog oca,

iziđe iz dvora te stiže pred hram kad se

već poprilično smračilo i pred kojim su

je već očekivali sveštenici a jedan je501

Sead Mahmutefendić

od njih prihvati za ruku i uvede u hram

u čijem pročelju, pri svjetlosti lučeva

drveta, stajaše ogromno božanstvo

umotano u svežanj krpa i ona isti čas

osjeti kako joj nozdrve ispunjavaju

teški mirisi tamjana i smole, i sve je

to osjećala gledajući u isto vrijeme

dvojicu sveštenika s maskam na licima

kako izlaze iz jedne pokrajnje

prostorije, prilaze joj, skidaju je do

kože, vezuju je lanenom oputom za drveni

stub, te jedan drugi sveštenik s krinkom

jaguara na licu prilazi joj držeći u

ruci nož od opsidijana kojim joj

najprije zareza kožu po ramenu prema

vratu, te tako uradi i s druge strane, a

zatim nastavi s rezom duž ruku, pa kad

proširi rez, predade nož drugom

502

Suze Dauta Arfadžana svešteniku i poče zavlačiti prste pod

kožu, a sveštenici su u određenim

vremenskim razmacima, čas ubrzavajući,

čas usporavajući, ispuštali u zanosu dva

mukla glasa: “Hu! Hu!” koja su

pojačavala i jačinu i gustoću zavisno od

krikova i urlika koja je ispuštala

nesretna kraljeva kći dok su u

beskrajnoj buci i galami oko zguljene

djevojke igrale utvare s maskama na

licima i u deliriju izbacivali nesnosne

zvuke udaraljki, bubnjeva, kamena o

kamen, a onaj koji je zgulio djevojčinu

kožu, već ju je navukao na sebe i

svečanim korakom, plešući oko oltara,

uvodio sebe polako u trans, pa su svi

prisutni sveštenici imali sretan,

orgastičan izraz na masci jer su bili

sad svjesni da je proljeće došlo i da je503

Sead Mahmutefendić

ove godine već na pragu, i da će sunca

biti dovoljno, i da će sve oživjeti i

vratiti se iz svog mrtvila što znači da

im je bog oprostio sve grijehe, pa zbog

toga nekolicina sveštenika padoše u

takav zanos da se srušiše na zemlju i

kroz usta maske pojavi im se pjena i

kliznu niz šarenilo boja na zemlju, a

drugi su zapinjali nogama o njih jer ih

nisu ni primjećivali... i tek tad čuše

kako neko strašno i užasno lupa na vrata

hrama, te svi istom umukoše i niko se ne

pokrenu: svijest se borila s

omamljenošću, a onda, tek jedan od njih,

priđe im i otkloni drveni mandal s njih,

u hram nahrupiše vojnici, gdje je

djevojka? gdje je kraljeva kćer?

upitaše; - djevojka je s bogom, odgovori

504

Suze Dauta Arfadžana sveštenik gledajući preko vojnikovog

ramena u kralja, djevojčinog oca, te uz

dubok naklon napravi mu slobodan prolaz

prema oltaru, pa kralj, u prvi mah, ne

razabra po mračnom hramu što se to u

stvari zbiva, on upali tamjan, rasplamsa

se plamen, pred njim je u preostalom

transu plesala prikaza odjevena u kožu

njegove kćeri od čega se kralj zaljulja

i vjerovatno bi pao da ga vojnici ne

pridržaše, on ponovo otvori oči i samo u

jednome trenu u njima se javi slika

njegove lijepe žene na samrti koja mu je

tad, prije nego što je ispustila dušu,

rekla da osjećaj za drugog i potreba za

ljepotom donose samo čovjeku nevolju, te

on istog časa, kad se sjeti tih riječi,

strže masku s lica najbližeg sveštenika

i navuče je na svoje pa onda, dignuvši505

Sead Mahmutefendić

obje ruke uvis, dade znak da bubnjevi

gromoglasnije zalupaju i da hram ispune

dimovi tamjana, pa onda riknu kao jaguar

i poče puzati i šuljati se po zemlji,

još jednom riknu i stade trčati

četvoronoške, priđe onoj prikazi, uze

oveći kamen sa zemlje i svom snagom

udari je po glavi, pa kad vidje

srušenog, kamenom mu poče lupati po

lubanji, koja se raspršti i ispod nje se

pojavi mozak, a on onda zgrabi sa svih

deset prstiju mozak i natrpa njima svoja

usta; žvakao ga je, gutao ga, a onda,

najednom, kao da se sjeti nečeg, stade i

iz usta, u kojima je još bilo

neprogutanog mozga, ote mu se dva puta

krik da je došlo proljeće! da je došlo

proljeće! i on raširi ruke, zalepeta

506

Suze Dauta Arfadžana krilima i vinu se visoko, visoko u

magični let put neba, gospodo sudije!...

ja ću uskoro put neba jer vidim pred

sobom same prikaze i to mi moje srce

govori koje osjećam kako sa suzama

naviru na oči i ja, prekinuvši svoj

govor, vidno uzbuđen od svojih riječi,

zacakli očima, te mi moj glas u zraku

bruji kao zadnji akord orgulja od

strasnog uzbuđenja, glume i prezira, a

onda osjetim da bi me mogla ova šutnja

izdati te moram sad izbacivati nove i

nove riječi, tražiti ih, kopati, ali

koje? nijedne riječi ne mogu se sjetiti

niti pronaći je, više nisam za to

sposoban, a ako to ne učinim, ovi ljudi

za sudačkim stolom, prisutni u sudnici

će se, sasvim je izvjesno, uskoro

probuditi, a ja nemam riječi da ih još507

Sead Mahmutefendić

uspavljujem, ja, jednostavno, nemam više

riječi i mislim da ih nikad nije ni

bilo, pa mi onda ništa drugo ne preosta

nego da pođem ka stolici na kojoj sam

prije sjedio, pa kad bijah ispred one

četvorice zvjeradi ugledam kako mi Leda

maše iz daleka križajući u vazduhu

rukama podignutim uvis, a ja onda

ugledam razvezanu mi pertlu na lijevoj

cipeli pa zastanem, te se sagnem da je

zavežem, a onda, najednom, uhvati me

strah da mi ona ne spadne s bolesne noge

i ne otkrije sve, pa ja, brže bolje,

zavučem ruku pod taban, te potom još

brže izvučem u znojavom dlanu

priljubljenu beretticu te isti čas počnem

pucati u one jaguare osjećajući da mi je

lice moćno, žuto, da oči nezdravo

508

Suze Dauta Arfadžana gledaju a izraz mojih rascijepljenih

usta bješe gorak nakon što sam sasuo

cijeli šaržer te teatralnom gestom bacio

prazan pištolj pod noge mladića, koji su

se na optuženičkoj klupi još trzali i

izdisali na očigled šokirane sudnice i

desetine novinara, koji će isti čas u

školjke sudskih telefona kreštati svojim

redakcijama da se na prvim stranicama

što je moguće krupnijim slovima

obavijesti javnost o nečuvenom zločinu u

našoj sudskoj praksi s naslovima na

brzinu izmišljenim: ANĐEO OSVETE PRAVI

REVOLVERAŠ. PUCAO SAM U SVE MUŠKARCE

SVIJETA ZNAJUĆI DA NAMIČEM OMČU NA SVOJ

VRAT. PODMUKLI ZLOČIN S NAMJEROM, dok je

u jednom naslovu bila najavljena i

ovakva mogućnost: UKOLIKO SE DOKAŽE TEZA

509

Sead Mahmutefendić

JAVNOG TUŽIOCA, UBICA BI MOGAO BITI

OSUĐEN NA NAJTEŽU KAZNU.

510

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

511

Sead Mahmutefendić

512

Suze Dauta Arfadžana

513