Out in the Open by Jesús Carrasco Read Free Book Online

the pannier, he took a couple of yellowing strips of dried cod. He scraped off as much salt as he could and placed the fish in a bowl, which he filled with water. Then, as if he were entirely alone in the world, he farted a couple of times and prepared for bed. The boy noticed that the goatherd had difficulty in bending down and in accommodating his bony body among the stones.
    The boy remained sitting on the stone for a long time after he had finished his supper. It was as if he had once again entered a house full of rules and was waiting for someone to issue an order or give him permission before he could go to bed. On the other side of the fire, the old man’s snores mingled with the whirring of the cicadas and the crickets. High up, the breeze set the fronds of the palm tree dancing, and the boy watched them swaying above the accumulation of dead foliage hanging from the trunk. He lifted one finger in search of a breeze he could not find. Up there, he thought, the air would be purer than the air near the ground and he thought, too, that the palm tree must have done something to deserve that balmy air. He touched the waxy mask on his face, and his skin felt warmer and softer. He must have done something to deserve his burns, his hunger and his family. ‘Something bad,’ as his father never tired of telling him.
    The dog woke him up at daybreak, prodding his neck with its moist nose. The poultice had come off during the night and now lay in a stinking heap next to his head. He touched his face and noticed a couple of blisters on his cheekbones. His skin felt less tight than it had the day before, but was still quite stiff. The goatherd was sitting in the same spot where he had eaten his supper, chewing now on a piece of dried cod, from which a whitish liquid dripped, and taking long draughts of wine from a wineskin. The boy sat up on the blanket and tried to catch the goatherd’s eye, but the old man paid no attention. Beside him, the bowl he had emptied the night before was now full of fresh milk thickened with oats. He picked up the bowl and the wood felt warm in his hands. He again sought the goatherd’s eyes, and although he knew his gaze would not be returned, he raised the bowl to him as a sign of gratitude.
    During breakfast, he witnessed, for the first time, the harnessing of the donkey, a liturgy that he himself would go on to perform for the rest of his days and which, in time, would become part of a larger ritual, that of his profession and of a life spent constantly on the move.
    The old man grabbed the donkey’s halter and pulled the animal to its feet. Without unhobbling it, he placed on its back a large canvas saddle pad. On top of this, he added a worn hessian cloth and then a packsaddle stuffed with rye straw and a breeching strap that went around the haunches. Before loading the donkey, he redistributed the straw stuffing, which, during the previous day’s journey, had migrated to the lower parts of the saddle, then he secured it all with a thick esparto-grass cinch strap that went under the donkey’s belly. He spread a blanket over the packsaddle, an action that reminded the boy of the moment in mass when the priest turned back to the altar after celebrating communion and, with the help of the altar boy, placed on top of the chalice the corporal-cloth, the paten, the purifier and the key to the sacrarium.
    Finally, on top of everything else, the old man placed four esparto panniers attached to a frame, with two panniers on either side. The donkey, which had been perfectly placid until then, made as if to set off. The old man soothed it by stroking its muzzle and running his fingers through the tuft of hair between the donkey’s ears.
    The goatherd then shared out the load among the four panniers, and when all his belongings were safely stowed away, reviewed the situation and gave a sigh. He re-positioned a few smaller objects, secured the trivet and the frying pan more