Getting to Know the General by Graham Greene Read Free Book Online

said – it was a variant of ‘on the way back’ and a variant which I didn’t believe, for I saw no reason why I should ever return to Panama.
    We called again on Captain Wong and drove with him to the outskirts of the town where a car had been abandoned by thieves to rust away. Captain Wong had decided on some more firing practice, with revolvers this time. (The Russian pistol was left in the boot.) The target chosen was the number plate of a car which contained the letters O and I.
    ‘We aim for the centre of the O,’ Captain Wong decided. Unfortunately after firing three shots each they had not even touched the number plate. Perhaps my eyes showed a trace of amusement for Chuchu held out his revolver and said, ‘All right. You try.’
    ‘I’m no good. I won’t even hit the car. Why waste good ammunition?’
    ‘No, no. Try.’
    I fired. I didn’t get into the O but by an odd fluke I dotted the I. We got back into the car in silence.
    Chuchu and I left David and started on our road towards Panama City. At Antón we did at least succeed in seeing the miraculous image. The wooden Christ was covered in gold ornaments which had apparently led some thieves to steal it, but as they were carrying it out of the church the weight of the ornaments miraculously increased, so that they were forced to abandon the statue.
    Perhaps because I was travelling with an imaginary woman as well as Chuchu and I needed to watch them together, I felt unwilling to return yet to Panama City. It was Sunday. I reminded him that we had a date at the Haunted House. But mysteriously the bar was closed, an incomprehensible event to the neighbours, for on a Sunday all the bars are open everywhere. I became more determined than ever to return one day and see inside. Was the old man afraid of the inquisitive stranger in uniform?
    Disappointed, we turned towards Ocú, a little town famous according to Chuchu for its leather sandals. In Ocú Chuchu bought enough leather for two pairs and we asked a peasant to whom we had given a lift where we could have the sandals made. He assured us he was as good as any sandal-maker in the region and he guided us to his hut.
    Chuchu had already told me of the unusual drinking habits in Panama, habits followed usually even by the General. ‘We are drunkards,’ Chuchu said. ‘On Sundays we drink in order to get drunk, but we don’t drink during the week. You in Europe are alcoholics. You drink all the time.’ I’m glad that during our days together he chose to follow the European custom.
    Our peasant, however, proved to be quite sober. He brought two chairs out into the yard of his hut and began work watched by eleven children and a pregnant girl. At first he soaked the leather and then modelled it around the foot and cut it. Suddenly there were cries of ‘Uahu’, followed by what sounded like the barking of dogs. Two neighbours arrived on the scene. They wore funny little hats with round rims which seemed to balance on their protuberant ears. They had been celebrating Sunday ever since their morning Mass. At first they just continued to bark (the General later corrected me – this was traditional peasant singing). Then one of them attached himself to me, sitting on the ground beside me holding my hand. He said he was only interested in Religión , and he wanted to talk about it. Was I a gringo ? No, I wasn’t a gringo . I was English. Was I Católico ? Yes, I was Católico . Then we must talk about Religión.
    I asked my friend what his priest was like. ‘Too materialist,’ he replied.
    I tried to turn the conversation away from religion towards politics and the Canal, but no one was interested in either.
    ‘And the General?’ I asked. ‘Do you like the General?’
    ‘Half good and half bad.’
    ‘What is the bad half?’
    ‘He doesn’t like the gringos .’
    ‘Why do you like the gringos ?’
    Four hundred men of the Peace Corps, whom Kennedy had sent to Panama, had been expelled by the General,