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north say, Where we come from there is no work, it’s all stones and scrub, we’re from the Beira, so don’t insult us by calling us rats. Those from the south say, But you are rats, you come here to gnaw at our bread. Those from the north say, We’re hungry. Those from the south say, So are we, but we refuse to accept this poverty, if you agree to work for such a low wage, we’ll be left with nothing. Those from the north say, That’s your fault, you shouldn’t be so proud, accept what the boss offers you, better something than nothing, and then there’ll be work for everyone, because there aren’t many of you and we’ve come to help. Those from the south say, That’s just a trick, they want to trick us all, we don’t have to accept that wage, why not join forces with us and then the boss will have to pay everyone a better wage. Those from the north say, Each man knows his own heart and God knows them all, we don’t want to make alliances, we’ve traveled a long way, we can’t stay here and make war on the boss, we want to work. Those from the south say, Well, you’re not going to work here. Those from the north say, Yes, we are. Those from the south say, This land is ours. Those from the north say, But you don’t want to work it. Those from the south say, Not for this wage, no. Those from the north say, The wage is fine with us. The overseer says, All right, you’ve had your chat, now stand aside and let these men get to work. Those from the south say, Don’t do it. The overseer says, Get working, if you don’t do as I say, I’ll call the guards. Those from the south say, There’ll be blood spilled before the guards arrive. The overseer says, If the guards do come, still more blood will be spilled, so don’t say I didn’t warn you. Those from the south say, Brothers, listen to what we’re saying, for pity’s sake, join us. Those from the north say, Like we said, we want to work.
    Then the first man from the north walked over to the wheat with his sickle, and the first man from the south grabbed his arm, and they grappled clumsily, awkwardly, roughly, brutishly, hunger against hunger, poverty against poverty, how dearly we buy our daily bread. The guards arrived and broke up the fight, attacking one side only, driving back with their sabers those from the south and corralling them as if they were animals. The sergeant says, Shall I arrest the lot of them. The overseer says, It’s not worth it, leave the bastards there for a while to cool off. The sergeant says, But one of the other men has a wound to the head, he was attacked, and the law is the law. The overseer says, It’s not worth it, Sergeant, why worry over spilling a mere animal’s blood, it doesn’t matter whether they’re from the north or the south, they’re worth about as much as the boss’s piss. The sergeant says, Speaking of the boss, I need some firewood. The overseer says, We’ll send you a cartload. The sergeant says, And a few roof tiles too. The overseer says, Well, we can’t have you without a roof over your head. The sergeant says, Life is very expensive. The overseer says, I’ll send you some sausages.
    The men from the north are in the field now. The blond ears of wheat fall onto the dark earth, how lovely, it smells like a long-unwashed body, then, in the distance, a passing tilbury stops. The overseer says, It’s the boss. The sergeant says, Give him my thanks, and let me know if you need any more help. The overseer says, Keep an eye on those rascals. The sergeant says, Don’t worry, I know how to handle them. Some of the men from the south say, Let’s set fire to the wheatfield. Others say, That would be a terrible shame. They all say, That lot don’t know what shame is.

 
     
     
     
     
    T HEY HAD BEEN to Landeira, and to Santana do Mato, in and out of the parish, to Tarrafeiro and Afeiteira, and in the midst of all this traveling their third child was born, a daughter this time, Maria da Conceição, and a