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PARTISAN REVIEW
bile crossed the intersection , stopping for a second because it didn't
have the right of way , and bathed the figure in light. Neither a dwarf
nor a child: a sinister being, amputated below the waist , mounted on
a skateboard, an amputee with a scarf wrapped around his neck and
a fedora pulled down over one eye . The car passed by. The garbage
picker went his way, checking bags and looking nervously from one
side to the other, as if afraid he'd be caught in the act.
"Is that against the law too?" Manungo asked.
"No, but this block must not be his territory . He must be on
edge because the ones who own this street will probably kick his ass
for him."
"And who decides who gets which street?"
"They do it among themselves , I suppose. They follow their
own laws - certain poor neighborhoods get certain rich neighbor–
hoods, I think, or it's done among buddies . They say there are cases
where people pay to pick through the garbage in good neighbor–
hoods . But they guard their territory jealously. See how nervous he
is? Don Cesar should not be on this block . His territory is one block
up. What a pig! Wait a minute, stay here . I have to talk to him."
Judit crossed the street to say hello to the amputee , who had
dragged his wagon to the corner exactly opposite them. She shook
hands with him, and this bothered Manungo. Wasn't there a men–
ace in all this? Didn't people say that with so much unemployment
the city had become dangerous, and that people would murder you
for a crust of bread or a few pesos? No , he calmed down. For a crip–
ple like that, all you could feel was pity. But the time of night was
starting to make him uncomfortable : it was eleven, Manungo saw
by his watch, one hour before curfew, when everyone, victims of the
artificial schedule imposed on them , began to scurry around to take
refuge in the first available hole .
How did Judit know this monster? Why did she shake hands
with him? Why did there seem to exist between them a relationship
that went beyond charity? Manungo waited for her, keeping his eyes
open for the dangers he assumed were concealed nearby. But what
dangers? What was there to fear from this grotesque figure that
ended in what looked like a platter on a skate? Had his Europeaniza–
tion become so complete that he was afraid of Judit's contact with
that fragment of a man, who looked, with his jaunty hat, his elegant
mustache, and his rags , like the caricature of a pimp? Judit was
carrying his black plastic bag, which she threw over her shoulder as
she listened to what seemed to be the amputee's advice .
