The Colors of Alemeth - Vol. 1 Read online

  There were about twenty people kneeling in the same direction with their hands together in front of their chests and theirs eyes closed. They murmured words of peace and love in a soft tone. The clean, bright green walls, ceiling and floor looked almost freshly painted and well preserved. The wall to which the christiani were facing had written in a darker green: For Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

  There was no other decoration or object of worship.

  In front of the biblical phrase was a man with a green mantle, genuflecting and praying facing the wall like the others. When the hymn ended, he rose and the christiani sat on the floor. He said Jesus had come to the world to bring peace and that his mission was to spread the word of God so that all people could find Him inside them, regardless of everything else.

  It was so surreal seeing that devotion in a place where we were accustomed to finding heresy.

  While listening to Zalmon talk about temptation and sin, I couldn’t help but smile about the contrasting ideas of two religions that followed the same man.

  It was Alem’s turn to receive the communion wafer. He walked, timidly and smiling, to the front of the altar, kneeled and opened his mouth.

  The priest took a wafer from a large metal cup and placed it on his tongue. He then gave Alem a metal goblet, from which he drank while the priest blessed him with gestures.

  People in the aisle cheered. Alem turned to the audience and looked at me waving his hand vigorously. His eyes shined and he had a giant smile from ear to ear. A big piece of wafer, stained by red wine, escaped through his teeth.

  After the ceremony, while I waited for Alem to return from backstage, the bishop approached me outside and invited me to lunch in his quarters. He assured me that Alem would join later. I felt like refusing, but common sense compelled me to tell him, with a smile, I’d be very happy to go.

  I said goodbye to Rhode and Ezekiel and was taken by the bishop to a couple my age.

  “This is Aduí Color, second general in the Control Brigade, and this is his wife, Jemimah. They are the parents of Jaala, a friend of Alemeth. They’ll join us for lunch.”

  Another prominent family within the Institution.

  We walked through the interior of the monastery in awkward silence. Upon arriving at the lobby before the quarters, the bishop wiped his soles on a mat and entered his home. Our steps echoed against the marble floor as Zalmon led us to a large dining room, probably built for important dinners with the highest offices of the Institution.

  Dozens of bottles were exposed over a long wooden bar that ran along a wall from beginning to end. The shelves seemed very old but didn’t show the least bit of dust.

  I sat on the sofa and watched Zalmon take a bottle from a high shelf.

  “I am told that Alemeth is doing very well,” he informed.

  He served drinks to the couple and then returned to the bar.

  “He seems excited at least,” I replied.

  “Yes. He’s very inquisitive. And not easily distracted.”

  He handed me a glass of water and sipped his whiskey. Standing and looking at the glass, he continued, “He’s too naïve, compared with other boys his age. It must be due to being isolated for the past few years.” He pointed to Jaala’s parents. “I told them of your insurgency, briefly. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I feigned a grin. The truth was I cared, probably because I didn’t want people asking questions or rambling about possible explanations. Reputation really was everything.

  “Do you think it had too much of an effect on him?” asked Jaala’s mother.

  “Not much, I don’t know. Alem is special. He always has been. He’s very strong. It’s true that when it all happened, he was too young to understand anything. But even while growing up, he never showed resentment for not having a normal life, the life he saw on television, for example. He always seemed very happy to me.”

  “Right. And he has remained the same, thankfully,” said the bishop.

  “Perhaps those years created difficulties in relationships with other people… not having anyone his age to play with, I don’t know. But he’s fine now,” I concluded.

  “Not having anyone to play with is more common than you may think, Bethel. How many babies stay at home with their mothers until school age without meeting anyone else?” said Jaala’s father.

  The bishop cleared his throat and responded, “Well, either way, Alemeth had a complicated early childhood. That we cannot deny. Still, he has a kind heart and a lot of respect for others. We know well how kids are, right? They can be bad and selfish toward one another. Alemeth is not. Perhaps it was his different childhood that made him like that,” he concluded.

  I was filled with happiness and pride.

  “As I always say, Alem is a special boy.”

  And it was true. I wasn’t talking about superstitions or the event I witnessed at the edge of the stream, not even about the color of his hair.

  “Of course he brings all this attention to himself, despite not being very extroverted. It’s that color. From whom does he get it?” asked the bishop with a bit of malice, it seemed, though I had no idea why.

  Jemimah shifted uncomfortably in her chair and exchanged worried glances with her husband. Nobody liked to see a child with a hair of that tone.

  “Doctors say it’s a genetic mutation.”

  “And the rest of his body hair?” asked Aduí with fearful curiosity.

  “No, only the hair on his head. It’s weird, I know.”

  “Are you familiar with the White Tree, Bethel?” asked the bishop.

  The White Tree. It had been years since the last time I heard of it.

  “I know the story, yes.”

  “Maybe my other guests don’t know it so well?”

  The other two looked at each other and shook their heads negatively.

  The bishop led us through a white marble corridor to a small room lit by an antique ceiling lamp. A painting hung on one of the walls.

  “According to the Bible, the White Tree was found by Abraham while he wandered through the desert, lost and in despair, after leaving his camp for not finding his comrades worthy of his company.”

  The painting was a representation of that tree: a white tree with a thick, cracked trunk and branches with red leaves, surrounded by an aura. Three slender angels in white wings, gleaming with goodness, were descending from the sky and pouring red flowers over the tree, and a man was sleeping at the base of the trunk.

  “Seeing that old and dry tree, Abraham got closer and lay on its roots, waiting for death with the company of a tree that would die dry like him. When he was already between the mortal world and the heavens, Abraham opened his eyes and had a vision: among the dead branches that extended to both sides was someone’s face looking down at him and framed by the red foliage. ‘How can you live with no water and no company?’ asked Abraham.”

  Contrary to what one might expect, I didn’t roll my eyes at that story. Not that one.

  “‘I do not live of water or company, but of love,’ replied the tree. ‘My essence is love.’ And then angels fell from Heaven and laid on the tree and on Abraham those red flowers that are seen in the painting. Abraham woke up with renewed strength and managed to return to his people, forgiving all betrayals.”

  I didn’t know whether the White Tree was an adaptation of the Black Tree of Light in an attempt to appropriate a pagan symbol, and very popular at the time that the Institution was born, but the similarities between the two were obvious.

  “Who knows if the author of this story didn’t predict such a genetic mutation with this symbol?”

  Footsteps came and a few seconds later Alem and Jaala appeared, accompanied with Sister Sara. When Alem saw me, he let go of her hand and broke into a run with open arms to hug me. He showed me his teeth, wrinkling up his face, to tell me that one of the front ones had fallen out.
/>   Looking at him, all my problems disappeared; there was no Umbra and no Institution, there was neither danger nor repression.

  The whole dining room was in wood, with a large red carpet on the floor. There was a huge glass window, occupying one wall completely. The curtains were drawn, but it didn’t take long for Alem and Jaala to ask the bishop to open them so they could see the day outside.

  “Hazael lied to me today,” Alem said, while a maid put green soup in his bowl.

  “What happened?”

  “He told me that if I wanted to have a normal hair color, I’d have to wet my head in Gloque’s water.”

  “Gloque?” I asked.

  “It’s the lake behind the meadows,” he answered.

  “But it’s expressly forbidden to enter the lake!” The bishop almost fell off his chair.

  “I didn’t go in,” said Alem. “I scooped the water with my hands instead and wet my hair.”

  “Alem! The water must be so cold this time of year,” I said.

  “It’s okay, Mom. It felt good. There was no wind. But the color stayed the same. And Hazael laughed. But he was a bit upset because he thought I wouldn’t enjoy wetting my head with water, but I did. But the water didn’t change anything, he lied.”

  “Lying is the worst of sins, Alemeth,” the bishop intervened. “One who lies can never be trusted; he has two sides. One of them is visible, and the other he shows only when we are not looking.”

  Oh no, another sermon from the bishop is coming.

  “Why do you want to have a different hair color, Alem?” I asked. “There’s nothing wrong with yours. Your hair is beautiful.”

  And it was. At the time of that lunch, it was very short on the sides and back, and slightly longer on top, combed to the left, shining with the light from the window like red gold.

  “Besides, I don’t want you walking alone in those areas.”

  “And lies don’t exist only in what is said but also in actions. Those false religious should all be persecuted. Transgressors! Their faces should be known and their bodies punished,” spoke the bishop.

  Alem looked at me as if expecting permission to answer, but I looked at the bishop again to let him continue his speech.

  “Who says one thing and does another is a fake. People should be what they are. Life is to be respected and to respect it is necessary to be true, with others, with ourselves, and above all, with God. Do you understand me, Alemeth? Jaala?”

  Alem hesitated, looking at the ceiling for a moment, and then responded, “I think so. Hazael has two sides, then.”

  Jaala laughed, pleased.

  “Well, you can’t define a person by one little lie. But he’s heading in a bad direction. You can try to help him have one side only, the true one.”

  Then he looked at me and continued the speech.

  “As for what you said earlier regarding the Gloque, you can all rest assured because students don’t usually walk around the lake. I will see that supervision is reinforced now that Alemeth and his friend managed to go there. Don’t worry.”

  I smiled but a strange feeling emerged inside my heart.