MOMADE

Momade wasn’t an european boy. He was my schoolfellow at school and we were thirteen years old. He was a sweet boy, so sweet that if the teacher asked him something difficult and Momade didn’t know the answer his eyes would be full of tears with worry and trouble. Today, fifty years past, I can see his face, his eyes full of tears with worry just as I used to see in the past.

One day, Momade, another european boy and me, we did a stroll near the site where me and my brother we used to take a  bath in a tank of water for the agriculture.

This time we went by and strolled ahead of this tank, went also by the dam, and still ahead we went. We reached a site where some people were washing their clothes. We didn’t know who they were and so, in our minds was settled a very bad suspicion. The suspicion that these men and women were terrorists. Portugal was in war in the colonies. We three talked to each other, panicked and began to run, run, run and Momade, the smallest of us, was the fastest!!

The day arrived when my family and I we left this village to another city. My family and I, we were waiting for the bus to the airport. We were standing when I saw two people coming to us. They were Momade and his father. They came to say good-bye to me and my family. And so it was.

But, today, I have great problems when I remember this day when Momade and his father came to say good-bye. I have great problems. My eyes are full of tears at this moment and they fill with tears whenever I remember the dignity, the  kindness, the tenderness Momade and his father had to me and my family. I will always have great problems. I swear I always will protect Momade and his family. I swear I will put in war the Portuguese, Spanish, South-American, English and French armies to defend you, your father, your family, your country.

I swear! By your dignity.

I swear! By your tenderness.

I swear!!!!