The House Of Mr Christus

Chapter One - Iguana Rains

The tarmac shivered in the heat. A girl shifted a croker sack from one shoulder to the next, before her stretched a long street lined with tall, wooden houses shuttered against the sun. Except for a shoeless boy calling out for custom, a stack of newspapers under his arm, the only sound came from inside her sack. The rasping of small claws made her itch.

It was April, and the dry season sun withered all that it touched. The girl's dress stuck to her back where the perspiration had pooled. Dust from the night journey, through forests and then dry, yellow, scrublands had stiffened her hair and marked her face. She paused a moment, scanning the houses for signs. She had been told to look for green shutters and almond trees. From somewhere behind her, a shutter banged open and a pair of hands emerged from the folds of the curtains. The hands shook out a dust rag. The girl heaved the croker sack to the ground. A solitary gust of wind caused the leaves to rattle. She lifted her face skyward and whispered 'iguana rain,' just as drops of water, soft and sweet, began to fall. The water trickled down her face, leaving it smooth and clean. From behind the curtain folds, the woman saw the sack wriggling at the girl's feet and knew what was inside. She knew too that it was a gift. The maid had arrived.

*

The house the girl came to emerged crookedly, it's long pillared supports rooted into the ground, it's two stories traversed by shuttered windows and balconies. She stood at the gate watching a man, perhaps in his sixties, greet the afternoon with a yawn. Lifting his vest, the man scratched his heavy belly, then, exploring further, pulled at the hairs on his chest. Finally, the hands emerged at the yoke of the vest, scratching, disappearing again, down to the small of the back, his shoulder blades, scratching, scratching. Then he saw her.

"What you doing there girl?" He didn't like being watched. "You looking for someone?" He didn't like her face.

"Is this the house of Mr Christus, sir? I have been sent for employment."

Her voice was soft and delicate, and he listened to it without assimilating the words. "Sir," she called louder. "I have come for employment."

Yes, he thought, that voice touched him somewhere. He scratched his ass. His wife joined him and, leaning over the veranda rails, enquired, "You the new girl?" The girl nodded. "Then open the gate for her," the woman ordered.

The man opened the gate, and as the girl went by, he caught a whiff of spices. She smells of cooking, he thought, disappointed, and wondered why maids always smelt of the kitchens they came from.

At the screen door to the house, the woman enquired the girl's name. "Angelita, ma'am".

Angelita, Mr Christus mused. The name rang of angels and small things with wings, butterflies or perhaps black beetles. He felt ashamed of his thoughts as lately they seemed to clutch at trivialities. He remembered how a few years back, he would have been focusing on the girl's calf muscles. He liked strong calf muscles, bottoms too. The kind that grew outwards, like two melons clasped together. The memory of desires past brought him to focus on the girl. He wiped his eyes and ran along her back a second time. Irritated, he followed her, seeing now that her feet hardly touched the ground.

Angelita glided silently behind the heavy footed wife, letting her eyes settle on the objects in the rooms she passed; the rugs knotted with vermillion and mustard designs, the mahogany furniture, the glass vitrine ribbed with silver and crystal. These things were beautiful and beautiful things were worth the care they demanded. She remembered her own home, the dusty floorboards, the cracks in the walls stuffed with newspaper and hung with outdated calendars, the kitchen with its fire hearth shrouded in woodsmoke, the latrine, stiflingly hot under its corrugated iron roof, and she was glad of the objects around her. It satisfied her that her world would be this house and that the house was full of treasures, for it made a beautiful world.