This is what happened: Vânia finally conceded and agreed to meet Rogério in an apartment in Copacabana. But insisted on absolute security. Nobody could see her entering or leaving the building. If her husband found out, if her husband even had the faintest inkling…Rogério swore that no one would see her.
-This is not a busy street. I pay the doorman not to see anything. The next-door neighbors are only home at night. The neighbors on the other side are never around. Their apartment might even be empty. There is no risk. Trust me.
They worked out the minutia of Operation Meet-up, or Operation Finally, as Rogério referred to it. She would tell her husband that she was going to Copacabana to shop. Including the trip to and from Grajaú, they would have two full hours. From six to eight. She would arrive the building alone, wearing sunglasses and a scarf over her head, and would go up to his apartment. He would be waiting. Right? Vânia hesitated:
-My God. Antônio. Our children… If someone finds out.
No one was going to find out. No one would see her. They would have two full, wonderful hours. Away from the world, away from the eyes and tongues of Grajau. Vânia sighed and agreed. Six o’clock, then.
At six Vânia knocked on Rogério’s apartment door. In addition to the sunglasses and scarf, Vânia had popped the collar on her coat and wore a bandana over her nose and mouth. Everyone on the streets had turned to look at this woman, covered up from head to toe despite the heat, trying so hard not to be noticed.
She was nervous.
-If Antônio finds out…
Rogério tried to calm her. He took her to his room. They began to undress. Then they heard noises in the hall. Screams, running. Vânia’s eyes were open wide.
-It’s Antônio!”
-It can’t be. Calm down. I’ll go see what it is.
Rogério was in the middle of his living room, in his underwear, when he heard them knock on the door. Violently. He hesitated. It couldn’t be her husband. Impossible. Such racket… He would have had to bring half of Grajaú with him to cause such a racket. A neighborhood punitive expedition to defend the neighborhood’s honor. I’m getting lynched, he thought. Dismembered by the middle class. A martyr. The first pagan saint of the Southside. Then, amidst the violent knocking he heard:
-Open up! It’s the police! Open the door or we will knock it down!
Rogério opened the door. He was thrown against the wall by an avalanche yelling men armed with machine guns.
The cops that had entered the bedroom opened the closet and found Vânia, half-naked and shivering in fear.
Here he is! yelled one of them uncontrollably, before realizing that it wasn’t Gatão, that it was a woman, and let her go.
Vânia ran out of the room. She ran through the living room screaming, not knowing whether to cover her face or breasts. She ran into the kitchen and fell in Gatão’s arms.
Rogério and the detective ran into the kitchen after her, and saw Gatao holding a knife to her throat.
-One more step and I’ll cut her! One more step and I’ll cut her!
The detective held out his hand, gesturing to detain the other cops who had come in after them. He said,
-Alright Gatão. Alright. Don’t cut her. Let’s just talk.
Gatão demanded that everyone leave the kitchen. He would communicate with them through Vânia. He stuck her head through the now half-closed kitchen door and told her to say he demanded a car to get the hell out of there. Or else he'd cut her. Vania stuttered. She couldn’t speak. Rogério said,
-Calm down, Vânia. Easy. Trust me.
Vânia was finally able to relay the criminal’s demands. The detective said alright. He would get him the car. But he needed time. Photographers and reporters showed up. When Gatão put Vânia’s head through the door crack again there was already a live television crew in the living room, cameras, lights and all.
-A-and he s-s-says he’ll wait f-five minutes and that’s-s i-it, she said, eyes squinting from the lights that shone in her direction.
The reporter put a microphone right by her mouth. Gatão then pulled her back into the kitchen. The reporters interviewed Rogério. Who was this woman?
-A friend…
-Girlfriend?
-More or less.
The detective sent word to Gatão that the car was ready. Gatão then left the kitchen with an arm around Vânia’s naked waist, with a knife to her throat. If anybody did anything, he would cut her.
-Easy, Vânia. Easy. Trust me, he said. His eyes were open very wide.
Gatão took Vânia down the stairs. The TV crew and camera followed right behind them. There was a large crowd gathered outside the building. One police officer cleared a path through the crowd of curious by-standers.
-Back off or I’ll cut her!
-Hey, that’s Gatão! It’s Gatão! They won’t ever catch him.
Gatão got in the car with Vânia and they sped off.
In Grajaú, the children screamed:
-Daddy, Daddy! Mommy’s on TV!
At some point, somewhere in the state of Rio de Janeiro, Gatão told the driver to stop the car. He told him to turn off the headlights, wait 15 minutes and get the hell out of there. Or else he would cut Vânia up. He got Vânia out of the car and led her through the thick brush in the dark.
-They'll never catch me. Never. I’ll disappear.
When Gatão finally let go of Vânia’s wrist and told her she was free to find a way home, Vânia thought about Antônio, thought about Grajaú and begged:
-Take me with you! Take me with you!
Today she lives with Gatão in Rezende and never cheats on him. She learned her lesson.
Or: Vânia didn’t get home until the next morning. Ready for anything. Ready to die. She deserved everything Antonio would do to her. On the sidewalk outside her house, she heard the neighbor:
The kids ran out, excited.
-Mommy! You were on TV!”
And behind them came Antônio, beaming, smiling.
-TV? Yes, m’am. Looked like Dina Sfat.”
2 comments:
Excellent article, some reality of the Brasilian life. I beg for many others, especially themes about social life of low income people, housing, food, education and health.
HLM
SHANGHAI: It began with an impassioned, 5,000-word letter on one of China's most popular Internet bulletin boards, from a husband denouncing a student he suspected of carrying on an affair with his wife.
Immediately, hundreds joined in the attack. "Let's use our keyboard and mouse in our hands as weapons," as one person wrote, "to chop out the heads of these adulterers, to pay for the sacrifice of the husband." Within days, the hundreds had grown to thousands, and then tens of thousands, with total strangers forming teams to hunt down the student's identity and address, hounding him out of his university and causing his family to barricade themselves inside their home.
It was the latest example of a growing phenomenon the Chinese call Internet hunting, in which morality lessons are administered by online throngs and where anonymous Web users come together to investigate others and mete out punishment for offenses real and imagined.
In recent cases, people have scrutinized husbands suspected of cheating on their wives, fraud on Internet auction sites, the secret lives of celebrities and unsolved crimes. One case that drew a huge following involved the poisoning of a Tsinghua University student - an event that dates to 1994, but was revived by curious strangers after word spread on the Internet that the only suspect in the case had been questioned and released.
Even a recent scandal involving a top Chinese computer scientist dismissed for copying an American processor design came to light in part because of Internet hunting, with scores of online commentators raising questions about the project and putting pressure on the scientist's sponsors to look into allegations about intellectual property theft.
http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/05/31/business/chinet.php
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an interesting pov on how the chinese "handle" adultery. not to mention, good thing you've got that legal disclaimer--you know the chinese are tight-laced when it comes to LFV.
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