Nowhere People

The next thing he knows, the club employee is standing outside the Sheraton Hotel in the middle of a crowd of teenagers and curious bystanders, watching the guy wearing a carved wooden board that looks like nothing else on earth. Two cameramen, and two others who appear to be assisting them, are filming as though there were something important happening. The club employee can’t see very well (the young people are all too tall). The man in the mask is talking into the microphone attached to the stand in front of him; his voice is not being amplified, it’s only there to capture audio for what is being filmed. The club employee feels comfortable in the midst of all that pandemonium, he isn’t alone. He wants to touch the guy somehow, to listen to him. He approaches. ‘I’m not trying to make enemies, I’m not trying to destabilise anyone but, for all the reasons I’ve explained, I’m not going to leave the government alone, still less the president of FUNAI, this gentleman who spends more time travelling around Europe than signing papers in his office or visiting the indigenous lands occupied by farmers, by employees of the mining firms and all sorts of modern-day prospectors.’ He stops for a moment. ‘I’m not going to leave this gentleman alone, just as I’m not going to leave the National Health Foundation alone, nor the section of the police and the judiciary that are in hock to the colonels of the North, the Northeast, the Centre-West, dangerous people who at this very moment are with absolute impunity designing a plan to criminalise indigenous leaders using falsified evidence … accusations with no legal basis … protecting the slaughter of whole tribes … ’ A very beautiful girl approaches the masked man to tell him that the FUNAI president’s girlfriend is arriving in a taxi. The masked man speaks (the club employee is close and can hear): ‘I challenge the Ministry of Justice and the President of the Republic to launch a complete review of the processes in which the leaders of the indigenous communities in these three regions have been condemned … As of today, I will give the government thirty days to dismiss the president of FUNAI … I … ’, and he pauses. He walks the short distance to where the club employee is standing. ‘You ok?’ … The club employee is startled. ‘What?’ The masked man goes on. ‘You helped me in the pool the other night. I could have drowned … ’ The club employee is confused. ‘You’re that kid? Why’re you doing this?’ he asks. One of the cameramen positions himself beside the club employee so as to better frame his face. The surrounding crowd begins to shout (they cannot know why exactly). ‘Isn’t it dangerous for you, to be talking about the government like that?’ he says, bewildered. ‘The people who occupy indigenous lands, they’re the dangerous ones.’ The club employee tries to speak but cannot. ‘All ok with you?’ asks Donato. ‘Me? I, um … I found out … ’ — he feels worn out — ‘that my youngest daughter is deaf.’ The masked man tries to comfort him. ‘I’m so very sorry for you.’ It seems to be an effort for the club employee to speak. ‘I’m sorry, but there isn’t anything you can do for her, is there?’ Donato stammers (when Donato is wearing the mask he never stammers), ‘M-m-me? Bu-but what could I do?’ The club employee closes his eyes. ‘I know you can’t … I just thought … I had to ask … because once you’ve missed your chance … I, I … don’t know … We could do a swap … I … I can’t seem to … ’ The club employee leans on the mask, and even Donato letting go of the handles to try and hold him is not enough to prevent him from fainting and his body hitting the ground.