The guardian angel.
(November 1998).
"Socrates, with all your wisdom, do you not realize that one's country is more precious than mother, father, and all ancestors, and more sacred, more venerable, more worthy of consideration by the gods and wise men; and that one must obey and serve it even in its anger, more than a father? And that the choice is between persuading it or carrying out its commands, suffering in silence if it forces us to suffer, be it being beaten or imprisoned, or even being wounded or killed if it sends us to war; and this must be done--and rightly so--without surrendering, retreating, or abandoning one's position, because in war as in court, everywhere one must do what the state, the country, commands, unless one can persuade it where justice lies? If it is impious to use violence against one's father and mother, how much more so is it against one's country?" What can we reply to this, Crito? That the laws speak the truth, or not?
I read this excerpt from Crito 's Laws in one sitting. I close the book, satisfied with my interpretation.
Did you like it, May?
“No,” Mayra replies, sitting next to me at the bedroom table.
I look at her in amazement.
What do you mean you didn't like it? Did I reed it wrong?
No, you read it very well. That's exactly what Platto says that I don't like at all.
Plato, May, with only one t.
All right, Plato.
But why didn't you like it?
He usually says very intelligent things. But not this time.
I'm speechless for a moment. Mayra is helping me as best she can to prepare for my Greek philosophy exam, which I'll take in a month: the monographic course is on the Crito, a work that, among Plato's many, I've never particularly liked, I don't know why. Reading it with her helps me to reflect and memorize the main concepts. She's never a passive listener: she's a woman eager to learn, she follows me with great attention and generally makes quite pertinent comments. Who knows what's gotten into her this time?
May, could you please clarify your thoughts for me? Because you know, what you said seems quite silly.
Oh, so does what I said seem silly to you?
Yes, quite a lot.
So I'll give you an example. Suppose tomorrow a criminal comes to power and makes absurd laws, like if you don't walk upside down to work you'll get fired, or if you don't inject yourself with poison you'll lose your job, or something like that.
I burst out laughing.
Mayra, but who could ever make laws like that?
You're laughing, Prinsy, but I'm telling you it can happen. Or they make laws that say those of a certain race must be killed and that you have to report them, because otherwise they'll arrest you and sentence you too...
Well, I'd say this has already happened.
See? And since so many people are stupid and evil, they would immediately start reporting those innocent people.
I'm afraid so. Go ahead.
Suppose that criminal makes laws like that: do you think we should obey?
I'm a little taken aback, then I reply:
Calm down, Mayra: first of all, the laws are made by Parliament.
Not all of them, Prinsy. Look, I studied a little too.
Okay, there are also decree laws, and those are issued by the government. Generally, however, laws are enacted by Parliament.
But it doesn't change much: suppose that Parliament is full of idiots who obey the criminal government and make laws against the people, or approve all the government's laws.
Excuse me, why would they do that?
Mayra sighs.
Manu, you really are so tiny. Government leaders aren't like dad and mom, they don't love us, practically never.
Mayra, I'm not that naive: I haven't been in this world long, but I already understand certain things. Just look at how they overwhelm us with taxes, using the excuse of services that aren't provided, or are provided less and less. Our money ends up in the garbage disposal, never mind services.
Oh good, so let's get back to the previous discussion: suppose that there's this criminal government that makes laws that are impossible to follow, and Parliament approves them, and if you don't follow them you get convicted by the judges: do you think we have to obey?
Your point of view is a bit like Sophocles', you know? In Antigone, but also in other tragedies.
Maybe one day you'll read them to me.
Mayra, I'm sorry, but you're wrong: Plato speaks of well-crafted laws, not decrees promulgated by a madman; the Laws, in the Crito, clearly tell Socrates precisely this: essentially, they are the same laws that allowed him to be educated, to live in a civilized situation, to marry, and to raise children, the same laws that Socrates has always declared himself satisfied with, and which therefore now, for consistency, he cannot betray.
Mayra reaches out a hand.
Stop. First of all, there's no need for laws to create children: they can be created even without being married. And not even to raise them.
I'll keep quiet. Mayra has struck a nerve: I had a child with a woman who isn't my wife, so I don't feel like contradicting her.
Mininu need love above all else, Manu, not laws. And then, of course, rules too, but rules made with common sense, Prinsy, for their own good. Instead, the State sends them to die in war, and your Plato says it's right, and I, who am nobody, tell you that I wouldn't send my son to die in their wars! No, for no reason in the world!!
Mayra's incredibly heated; her cheeks are red. I can't help but think this poor woman would be a wonderful mother: just look at how she treats me. It's a real shame she never found a partner to have children with.
Okay, Mayra, but someone has to defend their homeland.
Oh yes, the homeland: you know how many they've sent to their deaths with this whole homeland thing, and all the young people! Because you young people are more stupid, sorry to say.
I'll drop that point, which I find hard to disagree with, and get back to the laws.
But let's talk about laws, the real, well-made ones: if you live in a state where the laws are made by sane people and there are no criminals in government, as in the case of Socrates, then, if you are convicted on the basis of those laws, you must submit to the conviction: for consistency, May.
What consistensa? Are you a louko?
But why, Mayra?
Excuse me, what do you mean? If a law is well-written, it can't allow judges to convict an innocent person! And if it allows them, it's not well-written!
I open my mouth and close it again: I don't know what to say. Mayra concludes her indictment:
Well, Manu, if I were Critto, I'd stuff Socrates in a sack and carry him away on my shoulders even though he kicked and screamed that he wanted to stay there and be killed by idiots. That's what I did. And if one day something similar happens to you, remember, I'll stuff you in a sack and carry you away on my shoulders!
I can't help but laugh imagining that scene. Mayra concludes:
You're not going to tell your professor these things during the exam, are you? Professors are always there to compliment philosophers no matter what stupid things they say, because they have to pretend they understand difficult things, and the more difficult they are, the happier they are, because they seem intelligent. And that way they don't notice stupid things, not even when they're there. Tell him the story the way he likes it and that's it. And that's enough, I didn't like this Critto at all.
She gets up from her chair and goes to the kitchen to get something sweet to lighten the conversation. I close the book, perplexed and confused.
Mayra wants to save me at all costs. Now, it's not that I'm in a situation similar to Socrates's, but I too am experiencing a risky and disturbing situation. I don't want to avoid the risk because I'm in love with Gianni and because I want to help him get better, but I don't feel at all at ease: I have a constant sense of apprehension, a sense of alarm.
I feel the need to come clean with her. I have to take advantage of this opportunity before Carlos comes in: I really wouldn't feel like broaching such a delicate subject in his presence.
I wait for Mayra to return, with a cake and two cups of hot chocolate. I thank her, and while we're having that delicious snack, I blurt out:
I need some advice, May.
If I can, Manu, willingly.
It's a very delicate thing.
Janni?
Yes. I knew it. I've been seeing you all weird since yesterday, Manu, even if you pretend nothing's wrong.
Something very serious happened, May.
Don't scare me, Prinsy. How are you?
I'm fine, don't worry. The thing is...
I clear my throat, trying to tell her the truth without being harsh. But in the end, things have to be said as they are, and I can't find any periphrases.
Gianni tried to rape me.
Mayra opens her eyes wide and for a moment says nothing.
But Prinsy, I thought you were getting along now, that you were almost engaged.
No, May, what engaged? Gianni has been with another man for many years: we're in love, yes, but not engaged.
Then I really don't understand why he tried to rape you, Manu. You wouldn't have said no if he asked you nicely.
I sigh, realizing how difficult it is to describe the situation I'm experiencing.
You see May, he has a sexual block with me, and I told him that I was fine with it, even without sex.
Mayra looks at me with tenderness.
Yes, you are really in love, Manu… Only people in love accept such stupid things.
I nod.
Indeed, Mayra. Thank you for understanding my state of mind: anyone else would have thought I was stupid hearing something like that.
It's easy for me to understand.
Really?
Really, Manu. You feel like you're in heaven when you're with him doing anything, that's why you agree to be with him even without sex.
Yes, May, that's exactly right. But how do you know?
I know, Prinsy, how could I not know?… But move on. So you were together and you didn't do anything wrong: and then what happened?
I decide to skip the part about the smell of cum entirely, which I don't think is something I should share with Mayra.
He suddenly jumped on me, ripped my jeans off, and wanted to rape me. He looked like a wild beast, laughing, and had a hellish light in his eyes. I was really scared.
Oh Virjen Maria… And then?
And then, of course, I rebelled and we started fighting. Seriously, man: a real fight. I'm younger and stronger, but I assure you, I had a hard time keeping him at bay. He seemed crazy, and crazy people have superhuman strength. I punched him in the face and hurt him: the arm of his glasses broke and cut his cheekbone.
Mayra brings her hands to her face.
In the end, I conclude, he didn't remember anything: it was as if he'd lived it all in a dream. He was desperate, May, truly desperate...
Manu, this is no good, this is absolutely no good: you're in danger.
I know, May. But precisely because I know, I'm on my guard.
You're not on your guard at all, Prinsy, because you're in love. Look, I don't think Janni is bad, but he's sick. I thought he was wise, but no, because he's sick.
Yes, I also think he has some pretty serious mental issues. But that's precisely why I want to be close to him and try to help him.
Mayra shakes her head.
That's not right, Manu. In fact, it's completely wrong. But there's nothing you can do when someone's lost their minds for someone else. And I think I'd do the same thing, if I were you.
I don't think I've lost my mind, Mayra: I just think I'm very fond of him.
Mayra is silent for a while, then breaks the silence.
Listen Manu, you have to be careful.
Yes, May, I know.
But it's not enough just to be careful: you need someone to help you from up there.
Up there where?
From seu!
What?
From heaven, Prins! Because Janni ta ama-u, má dentu di el el el ta odia-u.
Please, May, I say nervously, you know I understand little to no Cape Verdean.
Janni loves you, but he hates you, Mayra translates. That's right, Prinsy, believe me: they're two people in one. And you can't do it alone.
It's exactly the same diagnosis I have, and it has a precise name: bipolar disorder.
She gets up, goes to open a drawer in the walnut wardrobe that we use to store my and her few everyday things here at the nursery, and comes back with something in her hand.
Put this on, she says, handing me a gold chain with a small medallion attached. I look at the bas-relief image: it depicts a guardian angel, like the one my grandparents gave me for my baptism, and I don't know what happened to it anymore.
But it’s gold, May!, I exclaim, amazed.
Yes, it was my mom's, she gave it to me when I had some fidju. But since I don't have any fidju, I'm giving it to you.
Moved, I answer her:
I can't accept, May. You're really very kind, but I can't accept.
Instead you have to, she tells me with sweet firmness, and clips the necklace around my neck.
Thank you, Mayra, really.
She doesn't say anything.
What a shame, May, I blurt out. You’d be the perfect woman for me.
She shakes her head.
No Manu, I am a mujer too simple, and you are not fasinado by jente too simple.
It's not true that I don't like simple people, Mayra: I'm a simple person at heart. And you're not simple at all: you even refuted Plato.
Manu, leave it alone: you only have Janni in your head, who is the opposite of me. Extremely complicated, elegant, charming, full of calture.
Culture, I inadvertently correct her. Anyway, yes, it's true, right now he's the only thing on my mind.
Well then, she concludes, there's nothing else to do but be careful.
I'll be careful, I promise.
Don't say anything to Carlos, huh!, she recommends me, He's not capable of understanding certain things, he'd scream at you like a mad elephant.
I smile.
And he'd probably be right. But where's our mad elephant now?
In the sèra, he's watering the plants. You know what, Prins?
What?, I ask her, expecting some kind of revelation.
You had a great idea with the Diplodegne.
Dipladenie, May, I correct her again, gently.
We're selling them really well, you know? People really like them, especially the red ones: they're still in bloom in full autumn.
I smile again.
Good, Mayra, that makes me very happy. Now I'm going to take a nap, because I'm feeling very tired. Not physically...
Yes, I know: you're tired inside. Get some rest, Manu.
Thanks for having me review the Crito.
I kiss her forehead and lie down on the bed. She draws the curtains and leaves the room. Bella, this time, decides to stay with me, and with a sigh, she curls up at the foot of my bed. I stroke her big, furry head and close my eyes, instinctively placing a hand on my guardian angel medallion.
I will need his protection.