Capuchin Colin and the Big Bad Wolf of the Dykes - Colin Miranda
Once upon a time... Well, this isn't a Brothers Grimm tale, it's the pure reality of the Santana area. But the plot was the same, only the setting and the accent changed.
I was about 8 years old, the age of innocence and short legs. My mother, in her infinite culinary goodness, had just prepared her specialty: papaya jam. That sweet that shines, with the scent of cloves and cinnamon, capable of raising the dead.
The recipient was "Aunt Lálá" (yes, the same one from the hospital), who lived in the Fundo area. The mission was entrusted to me with the gravity of someone carrying the queen's crown.
Mum put the treasure in a crockery bowl and wrapped it up in the classic way of someone who knows what they're doing: a checkered kitchen towel (red and white, to keep with tradition), tied in a double knot at the top, forming a secure handle.
- Go, my son. Don't stop along the way and give this to Aunt Lálá.
I did it. "Little Capuchin" Colin.
I left Santana for Fundo, bouncing along the road, feeling important. The scent of jam wafted through the cloth and left a trail of perfume that, little did I know, would attract predators.
As I descended the stream, danger lurked. It wasn't a dark forest, it was a dyke construction site. And the wolf had no fur, he had a trowel in his hand.
Suddenly, a thick voice echoed off the rocks:
- "Netcho!"
I froze. It was Djandjan. A family acquaintance, my neighbors' uncle and, that afternoon, my gastronomic executioner.
- Where are you going in such a hurry, boy? - he asked, with that smile of someone who has already sniffed out the prey.
- I'm going to Aunt Lálá's house to take some papaya jam that my mother sent - I replied, with the suicidal honesty of children.
Djandjan's eyes shone brighter than the jam.
- Papaya jam? Hmm... Come here, let Uncle see if it's good.
I was. Innocent as a lamb.
What happened next was an armed robbery. Not only did Djandjan take the bowl from my tiny hands, but he called in the pack (the other guys on the construction site).
- Boys, snack break! Netchinho brought dessert!
In seconds, they devoured everything. I watched, static, as Aunt Lálá's gift disappeared down the workers' throats. But the touch of evil genius - the true masterpiece of villainy - came at the end.
The bowl was empty, but there was that thick, sticky syrup at the bottom. Djandjan looked at me, looked at the syrup and came up with a diabolical idea to clean up his crime.
- Come here.
He grabbed me by the chin and, with his finger, rubbed the papaya syrup on my lips, cheeks and chin. Everything was shiny, sticky and smelled of guilt.
- That's it. Now you can go.
I stood there, without a sweet, without a full bowl and looking like I'd eaten my fill. The Big Bad Wolf had not only stolen Little Riding Hood, he had falsified the evidence!
The return home was my ordeal. I dragged my slippers again, with the empty bowl swinging in my hand.
When my mother saw me at the door, the first thing she noticed was my smeared face, shining in the sun.
- Colin?! Are you back yet? And Aunt Lálá? - she asked.
I lifted the empty bowl with crying eyes.
- Mâ... é ka kel busado di Djandjan!
She looked at my dirty mouth. She looked at the shaved bowl. Any normal mother would have pulled off her slipper, thinking her son was a lying glutton. But my mother? Ah, my mother had a keen sixth sense.
- Djandjan? - she repeated, narrowing her eyes.
- Yes! He took my candy, gave it to the boys and then rubbed the syrup on my face to make it look like I did it! - I explained, indignant at the injustice.
There was a second of silence. My mother looked at me and then began to shake her head, not in anger at me, but in disbelief.
- That Djandjan... - she sighed, wiping my face with her apron. - It had to be him. You're a glutton, but you're not stupid enough to come home dirty like that if you'd eaten on the sly.
She believed me! Djandjan's reputation as an "abuser" and "txacotero" was so great that he saved my skin. His crime was so perfect that it became too obvious for my mother's wisdom.
That day I learned that the truth sets you free, but having a smart mother sets you much more free.
As for Djandjan, he got away with the crime, but word got around: he was the only bricklayer capable of stealing candy from a child and still using the boy's face as a napkin!
And poor Aunt Lálá? Well, she had to wait for the next batch of papayas.
