Pig's Foot by Carlos Acosta

side and closed his eyes as though listening to distant voices, to thoughts from times long gone. ‘But then I discovered that hatred can be a wonderful quality if directed as it should be. For example . . .’ He got to his feet and grabbed a sharp machete from the wall. Benicio swallowed hard.
    â€˜People always wondered how I could cut so much sugar cane, how I could hack away all day and never tire. I’ll tell you: hatred. It was hatred that drove me to be the best. With every swing of my machete, I vented my fury; I imagined the sugar cane was my enemy and so I hacked at it and sometimes howled with rage and I went on swinging late into the night, long after the other macheteros had gone home. Still the hatred would burn inside me and I would carry on until dawn; this is how I came to be the best. Do not fear being hated; hatred is not such a bad thing; it means people leave you in peace.’ El Mozambique put the machete back where he had found it. Benicio felt himself relax.
    â€˜But we are not here to speak of unpleasant things, are we? You are wondering why I invited you into my house. Firstly, because no one ever visits me and secondly, because we have a mutual friend. Did you know that?’
    â€˜A friend, señor?’
    â€˜Indeed. It was she who said I should meet you. You know Ester?’
    â€˜No, señor.’
    â€˜Of course you know her! Ester, come out of the kitchen!’
    The midwife stepped into the room. She was wearing the clothes she had been wearing the first time Grandpa Benicio ever saw her. She stopped, arms folded, right between them, and from the timid way that she moved it was clear she too was scared.
    â€˜Do you recognise her now?’
    â€˜Yes, señor. I know this lady, but I’ve only ever seen her once: the time she told me I was a sad child.’
    El Mozambique let out a bear-like roar and doubled over. Benicio and the midwife flinched, then Ester smiled and Benicio noticed that all her upper teeth were missing. El Mozambique could not stop laughing. ‘So you told the kid he was a sad child? The things you came out with, Ester. What do you know of sadness? Pay her no heed, Benicio, the weight of her tits has left her addled in the head. We like Ester when she keeps her trap shut, don’t we, Benicio? So not another word out of you, Ester, do you hear me? Now go back to scrubbing your pots, we men have things to discuss.’
    The midwife pouted and gave Benicio a miserable look. Then, head down, she trudged back whence she had come.
    â€˜Tell me a little about you,’ said El Mozambique.
    â€˜About me?’
    â€˜Indeed.’
    â€˜Well, I have a sister and . . .’
    â€˜And a brother named Melecio who recites poetry. All this I know already. Tell me about . . .’ The man’s eyes had alighted on the amulet around Benicio’s neck. He walked over to the boy, took the pig’s foot in his hand and did as he had when staring at his face: he studied it as though he were a detective.
    â€˜I should have expected it. Who gave this to you?’
    â€˜It was given to me by my papá, José. I’ve had it since I was born. My father says it brings good luck.’
    â€˜Given you by your father José? Don’t make me laugh. It’s very handsome. Why don’t we trade? I’ll give you one of my puppies in exchange for your necklet.’
    â€˜I can’t, señor.’
    â€˜What do you mean you can’t?’
    â€˜I told you, it was a gift from my parents.’
    The murderous expression returned to the face of El Mozambique. He grabbed the necklet again and began to tug. Benicio started to scream, flailing his thin arms, biting the giant’s hand, struggling to stop him from taking the amulet. Just then the dogs began to bark.
    â€˜Benicio! Benicio, are you in there?’ called a voice from outside. With a fierce wrench, Benicio managed to prise the giant’s hand from the