Pig's Foot by Carlos Acosta Page A

talisman and, like a flash of lightning, bolted outside where he found the whole village gathered. Melecio, Ignacio el Jabao and Geru were standing in front; behind them stood Epifanio Vilo and his brood, followed by a throng of people crowded around José, waiting impatiently for something they had spent years hoping might one day happen.
    â€˜Benicio! What possessed you to go bothering El Mozambique?’ roared José, breaking through the crowd encircling him. The dogs were still barking. Abruptly, they fell silent as the imposing figure of their master pushed his way past and faced down the crowd.
    â€˜Uh . . . Mozambique, I apologise for Benicio’s intrusion . . .’
    â€˜There was no intrusion. I was just telling him how much I admired his amulet.’
    â€˜He’s lying, Papi. He tried to steal it from me,’ wailed Benicio in despair.
    Among the crowd, indignant voices began to clamour.
    â€˜Did you hear that, José?’ said Epifanio Vilo. ‘It’s like we’ve been telling you for years. This man is a menace.’ The assembled crowd chorused their support. The clamour rolled around the woods like a thunderclap.
    â€˜That’s enough, señores, that’s enough. El Mozambique has not harmed anyone. You may not like the way he lives, but every man has a right to live as he pleases. This is the great principle of freedom.’
    â€˜Perhaps, but that same freedom can become catastrophe if not used wisely,’ said Abelardo Cabrera. ‘Besides, we all hate the man. It is not merely one or two people, everyone despises him, so there must be some reason. As the old saying goes, when the river roars, there are rocks beneath.’
    El Mozambique stood smiling at everyone.
    â€˜Hatred is a harsh word, Abelardo,’ said José. ‘When someone hates, he stoops lower than the man he hates, and that is not good. We hate in others that which we hate in ourselves; that is why I believe hatred is too strong a word.’
    Everyone fell silent, shaking their heads in disbelief.
    â€˜It’s true, Papá . . . El Mozambique tried to . . .’
    â€˜Shut your mouth, Benicio,’ said José, taking the boy by the shoulders and moving him to one side. ‘Mozambique, why don’t we prove to everyone here that you don’t devour people, why don’t you come and join us for the feast, hey?’
    â€˜Never,’ said El Mozambique categorically, ‘You all decided long ago that I was the devil himself. Let us leave it so.’
    â€˜So you agree with these people?’
    â€˜Since when has anyone cared what I believe? I’ve already admitted that I am evil, and I am not about to try and change anyone’s mind since the only one who needs to remain calm is me. I know that they are all simply waiting for me to die and perhaps one of these days I will give them that satisfaction. Who knows? Now get the hell off my property, all of you, before I throw you to the dogs.’
    José stood for a moment, brooding over what El Mozambique had said. The neighbours waited, impatient, each wondering how the Mandinga would react.
    â€˜You know something, Mozambique? You might not realise it, but if that is how you think, then you began dying long ago. If that is how you want to live, well then wallow in your contempt, but don’t say we didn’t warn you. All right? Let’s go, caballeros . Let’s go back to the fiesta.’
    â€˜But, José,’ howled the neighbours in chorus, ‘how can you do this?’
    â€˜Calm down, calm down,’ José said firmly. ‘Can’t you see the man’s a pitiful wretch? Leave him alone, he has enough misery in his life.’
    With great misgiving, all did as José insisted. They headed back down the path towards the flame tree and the festivities, shielding their eyes against the dust whipped by the wind. Melecio and Gertrudis hugged their brother.
    â€˜We were