Cartas de color

Marcos Mundstock:

I was born in Africa, that's why my skin is black. My name is Oblongo, which in Swahili dialect means 'longer than wide'. I know every tree in this jungle, every path in my village, every story of its people... Every story... I can differentiate the footprints of a gray elephant from Nigeria with three men on its back, from the footprints of a pelican. I can recognize any bird by its way of flying, no matter how fast its flight is, I follow it with my eyes and, without hesitation, I name it: bird! I call the hyena Orumba, I call the mosquito Jejene... but it's better not to call it because it might come.

Where is my nephew now, Yoghurtu Nghé, who had to flee hastily from the village because of the scarcity of rhinoceroses? Yoghurtu Nghé was the most handsome and beautiful young man in the tribe, his skin was so dark that in the village they called him 'the black'. His voice, his voice had the sound of a lion's roar, the warmth of a panther's snore, the deep roughness of a bison's bellow; singing, he was an animal! Where is my nephew now, Yoghurtu Nghé, who had to flee hastily from the village because of the scarcity of rhinoceroses? Perhaps Yoghurtu inherited the ominous destiny of his grandfather, the famous healer Obtuso Nghé... famous healer from whom I learned the arts of witchcraft and to whom women from all over Africa came to be beautified by enlarging their skulls; Obtuso spoke to them... he spoke to them... he spoke to them... that's how their heads turned out! Perhaps Yoghurtu inherited the turbulent destiny of his aunt, my sister, Ganga Nghé... How beautiful Ganga was! When she danced the harvest dance, the blacks howled... Many loved Ganga. In the mahogany trees by the stream, you can still see the hearts engraved and their inscriptions: 'Ganga and Kalubu', 'Ganga and Mengué', 'Ganga and Sir Archibald Bradley'... 'Ganga and the Obembe tribe'... well, they were pygmies... Even today, whenever a beautiful maiden enchants all the men in the tribe, the wise elders decree: 'She's a true Ganga...' Where is my nephew Yoghurtu Nghé now, who had to flee hastily from the village because of the scarcity of rhinoceroses?

If I could find him... If my senses' infallible acuteness served me for something... like that night, I remember it perfectly: I was a hundred steps from Chief Afobutu's hut. In the darkness of the night, my eyes distinguished a human form sneaking into the chief's hut... That's sight! I started to approach... my ears perceived the whispering of two voices, and panting... almost imperceptible panting coming from the chief's hut. That's hearing! I remembered that Chief Afobutu had gone hunting for a week, leaving his wife alone in the hut... and I suspected something strange. That's... smell! I reached the very door of the hut. In the darkness, I felt a warrior's shield and a spear leaning against the wall and my fingers... recognized that that shield and that spear were not Chief Afobutu's! They belonged to my nephew Yoghurtu Nghé... So I backed away, trying not to disturb them... That's touch! Where is my nephew Yoghurtu Nghé now, who had to flee hastily from the village when Chief Afobutu returned from his hunt two days earlier than expected, because of the scarcity of rhinoceroses?

(Carlos Núñez writing a letter)

Marcos Mundstock: Yoghurtu's Letter!

Carlos Núñez Cortés: Dear Uncle Oblongo: After much wandering, I am finally here, in the United States. Upon arrival, my first impressions were digital. They took them with white ink! I'll tell you that it's not true that all blacks are mistreated here. Some blacks are mistreated in other countries... Anyway, I am determined to succeed as a musician. By the way, dear uncle, wouldn't you teach me some magic words to achieve success and applause? A kiss, Yoghurtu Nghé.

(Ernesto Acher playing the drums transcribing the words that Marcos dictates to him, supposedly to reach Yoghurtu)

Marcos Mundstock: Dear nephew Yoghurtu Nghé. Colon: I send you these sounds... hoping you are well... Well with a long 'b'...

(Acher realizes his mistake and makes the gesture of erasing what he has