Chapter 16
Rego walked slowly towards the entrance of the city. The market was bustling with shoppers and locals at the city gates. Outside, he saw a large throng of city buses, all painted dark green with white tops. The buses were old but many in number. The terminal was a round outdoor center of activity.
In the center of the outdoor terminal was a huge water fountain, spraying water high into the air. In the middle of the fountain were three large statues of mermaids. All three of them held a large disc above their heads. Out of the disc was the water fountain, spraying high into the air. Rego looked in awe at the huge fountain.
There were street vendors and buses everywhere. All the buses had numbers in the front window on the driver’s side. He noticed that all the steering wheels were on the opposite side. Soon he noticed, as the buses left the terminus, that they were all moving down the left side of the road.
He only had a few coins left in his pocket. But first he had to find which bus he should take. He had no idea how far it would be to the city of Mdina. He walked up to a man who he thought was not a tourist. “Mdina?” he asked pointing towards the buses.
“Bus number eighty,” he said in English.
Rego shook his head not understanding. “Which bus, Mdina?” he asked again.
The man lowered his eyes at Rego, and said slowly, “Eight-zero.”
Rego frowned and then finally said, “Sorry, no English.”
The man smiled and nodded. He held up his hand for Rego to wait. He pulled a small pad and pencil from his shirt pocket and wrote the number eighty down in large numbers. He held it up for Rego to see it.
Rego smiled in thanks. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” he said in his broken English. The old man nodded and laughed as Rego walked off quickly, looking for the right bus.
He finally found a small, old bus with the number eighty in the window. He climbed aboard and stood in front of the driver. “Mdina?” he asked.
“Yes,” the bus driver said. “Seven cents, lira.”
Rego pulled the coins out of his pocket and showed them to the bus driver. They were left over from Gibraltar. The bus driver looked at them and shook his head, “Lira only, sorry.”
Rego held up his hand as he stepped off the bus. “Uno momento, uno momento, por favor,” he said hastily and ran back to the market. The driver put his chin down on his hand and waited. He wasn’t going to leave for another ten minutes anyway.
Rego quickly ran around the open-air markets, looking for a way to get the Maltese currency. He looked at the table of goods quickly and then spotted something that looked familiar that he thought was perfect. He picked it up and showed it to the vendor and held out his coins. “Enough?” he asked her.
She took two of the coins and smiled and nodded to him that it was. She gave him a ten cent piece, in Maltese lira, back in change. “Thank you, thank you,” he said smiling graciously.
He ran as fast as he could back to the bus and hopped up the steps, gasping for air. The bus driver looked at him tiredly and held out his hand. Rego produced the ten cent piece and the driver took it. He peeled off a small white and orange ticket and tore it slightly down the middle, then handed it to him. He also gave him three cents back in change. “Thank you, thank you,” Rego said smiling broadly. He walked down the aisle and took a seat by himself in the middle.
Soon, the old bus engine roared to life and the driver put it into gear. The bus slowly pulled away from the fountain and down the streets toward the interior of the island.
Rego sat on the bouncing bus that was now full of passengers, staring out of the window at all the sights. Every street was busy and all of them were lined with buildings and more churches. Even though all the towns ran together, he noticed the town names changed every so often as the bus slowly drove on. Sometimes a passenger would reach up and pull a long cord overhead that ran along each side of the bus. A bell would ring above the drivers head and soon he would pull over at the next bus stop. Several people would get off and several more would get on. The streets winded along the crowded coastline. He could see the brightly colored fishing boats in the small harbors along the way. The boats were painted in bright blues, greens and trimmed with yellow and red. The bus turned away from the water and headed uphill and into old neighborhoods that had wider streets. Children kicked footballs on the side of the streets and in small empty lots. In many ways, it reminded Rego of home in Brasilia.
The names of the small towns passed by as the bus slowly made its way into the center of the island. He saw names like Floriana, Hamrun, Santa Venera, Balzan, and Attard. The houses and apartment buildings became less and less out in the country, and soon he could see small plots of farmland. The crop lands were separated by small stone walls, only a meter high or less. An old man walked behind a rusty plow, tilling up the soil far from the road. Some farms had small groves of olive trees growing on them. Beyond the farmland, Rego’s eyes fell upon a massive structure in the distance. In the center of the island was a large stadium. It appeared that a match was going on there. He could see crowds of people on the outside of the stadium, slowly making their way to the entrances. Football seemed to be a very popular pastime here, just as it was in Brazil.
The bus turned down a narrow road that led right towards the giant stadium. Rego saw the sign as the bus turned. It read ‘Ta’Qali Stadium’. The driver turned left on another small road before they reached the stadium. Rego strained to see the stadium from the other side of the bus where he was sitting. He soon gave up and sat back down in his seat.
Then, he saw it. High on a hill on a very narrow road, was a walled city. The walls were light brown and grey and very old. Then his spirits soared when the bus drove past a sign that read ‘Mdina’ with an arrow pointing ahead. He sat way up in his seat and pressed his hands and face to the window. He stared at the ancient city in awe as the bus slowly crept closer. I can’t believe it, he thought. I am really here!
The bus pulled up to its final drop-off point. Everyone on the bus began to get off the bus. The bus stop was still a ways down the hill, a good quarter of a kilometer from Mdina. He could still see the large stadium off in the distance. He got off the bus and stretched his legs, staring at the walled city. He would have to walk the rest of the way. He threw the satchel over his shoulder and began walking up the steep hill towards the city. His eyes stayed glued on the entrance with its tall gray stone walls. As he neared the gates, a roar from the stadium could be heard. The crowd cheered at the football game, celebrating an obvious goal for the home club. Rego looked at the stadium and smiled. “I like it here, already.”
Rego stood in front of the gates to Mdina and stared at them. This was the moment he had worked so hard far, the moment he had traveled so far to see. He had finally made it. He stepped inside the walled city. Small crowds of tourists milled around the ancient streets. A few locals milled around also, for some still kept their residences here. A man sold flowers to men to give to their sweethearts. It was very quiet and peaceful inside the city. Occasionally he would hear the roar of the crowd from the stadium, but it was very muted now inside the city walls.
He continued walking down the narrow main road until he came into a small square. A local was passing by, carrying loaves of bread in a basket. Rego stopped her as she passed by, “Do you know the Sister of St. Paul?” he asked. The woman looked at him puzzled. “Santo Paulo?” he asked again.
Her eyes lit up and turned and pointed behind him to a large cathedral on the other side of the square. Above the large door to the church were the words, ‘Cathedral of St. Paul’. Rego thanked the woman and slowly approached the church, staring at it with his eyes wide open. He stepped inside the large church. It was more beautiful than he could have imagined. The paintings on the walls and chandeliers were ornately decorated. He dipped his hand in the holy water a
nd made the sign of the cross as he walked in. An old man, perhaps a caretaker, was hobbling down the center aisle of the church towards the back.
Rego whispered softly to him, “Pardon me, sir.”
The man understood his language and answered him, “Yes, my good man?”
“Could you tell me where I may find the Sister of St. Paul?” Rego asked, expecting to hear the worst.
“Of course,” the old man said. He pointed to the side of the church towards a stain glass window. The particular window had a figure of the Virgin Mary on it. Rego felt a little discouraged, thinking the old man did not understand him. The old man smiled and motioned towards the window once more. Rego looked closer at the window. Through the glass, he saw some people working outside. Three women, wearing habits, appeared to be working in a garden. Rego nodded to the old man and slowly started to walk out the main door, still staring towards the stain glass windows curiously.
He stepped outside the church and walked around to the left side. He peered down a small walkway that led to a tiny courtyard and garden. The three nuns worked happily and quietly. They were planting small shrubs and vegetables and a few flowering plants that didn’t need much sun to grow. The garden was covered in shade for most of the day. There was a small gate to walk through to get into the small garden area. Rego’s heart pounded as he slowly opened the little gate.
“Hello, Sister?” he said softly in his own language. “I was looking for…”
“Rodrego?” the nun said, astonished. “Is that you, boy?”
Rego dropped the satchel on the ground and his jaw fell open. “You know who I am?” he said in amazement.
Her eyes flew wide open. She brushed the dirt off her hands. The other two nuns looked on briefly, then went about their work. She walked over to the gate where Rego stood with an awestruck look on his face. She smiled at him and couldn’t believe he was there in front of her.
“You really do have your mother’s eyes,” she said. Rego stood dumbfounded. “You don’t remember me, I know. You were such a young boy when I came to this monastery.”
“You’re the Sister of St. Paul?” Rego asked, still trying to grasp the shock of the situation.
The nun laughed out loud. “Well, not quite. But, I am one of the caretakers of the church that bears his name, though,” she said looking at the side of the cathedral. “I am a member of the Order of Sts. Peter and Paul Monastery here at Mdina. One of our tasks is to help look after this old and wonderful cathedral.” She looked at Rego and brushed his long hair away from his eyes. “Rodrego, I am your Aunt Lina Botelha.”
Rego finally snapped into reality and recognized the face of his great aunt. He threw his arms around her and hugged her tight. Tears ran down his face. He looked at her. “Aunt Lina, I should have known. Grandma had always said you were in the old country.”
She nodded, “I was, for many years. Then I came to this country about seven years ago.” A look of remorse came over her. “I had longed to go back home to Brasilia and Salvador to visit my sister and brother, but the life of a nun is a lifelong dedication to work and serve the Lord. Plus I hadn’t the money to make such a long journey. Now I’m afraid I am much too old to make it that far.” She smiled at him again. “Oh Rego, it is so good to see you. You’re a young man now!”
“It’s wonderful to see you too, Aunt Lina,” he replied. “I had no idea what I would find here.” His face turned sad all of a sudden.
“What is it, my child?” she asked concerned.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” he said sadly. “Uncle Enso, your brother, has passed away. I called home almost two weeks ago when I was in Panama. My friend, who looks after Grandma, told me.”
Lina stepped away a few steps. She held her crucifix in her hands that hung from her neck. She nodded and looked back at Rego. “God, give him peace,” she said. “I knew he had been ill. I’m so sorry, Enso,” she said to herself.
“I think he wanted me to give you something,” Rego said, picking up the satchel. Aunt Lina looked over at him. “That’s why I’m here. Just before he died, he instructed another man to bring this to me and told me to bring it here.”
Suddenly, Lina remembered everything. She knew exactly why Rego had been sent so far and what was inside the satchel. She nodded quietly, staring at the satchel. She bit down on her lip and said, “He knew he didn’t have much time.”
He handed her the satchel. She walked over to a small bench that sat near the wall in the tiny courtyard. They sat down together on the bench. She opened the satchel and took out an envelope that read ‘Lina’ on the outside. She opened it and found a letter inside. She read it aloud to Rego:
My dearest sister, Lina. If you are reading this letter, our trusty nephew, Rodrego, has just completed a historic journey. I would have come myself, but my declining health has made it impossible now for me to even walk down the street, much less travel across the world. I have missed both of my sisters immensely over the years, and I feel ashamed now for not making a better effort to visit both of you over these years. My wish was to one day, travel across the ocean and visit you in your wonderful home there on Malta. I have always admired your spirit and dedication to the Lord’s work. But as the years passed me by, I knew my wish would never come to pass. I was no longer able to fulfill such dreams. That is why I have asked Rego to come in my place, to come and see his wonderful aunt whom I love and miss very much.
She wiped a tear from her eye as she read the letter. Rego consoled her and told her to continue.
You probably already know the other reason why I have sent Rego on such a long and dangerous task. As the oldest remaining member of our family, you have been entrusted with the possession that I have carried all these years, that were handed down to me by our father. You will know what to do with them now.
Now that you have read this, my only wish is to see your pretty face in the house of the Lord when the time comes. You are my loving sister and I always hold you dearly in my heart. Please forgive me for not being able to say it to you in person. With fondest love and memories of you, Enso
She sniffed and blew her nose into her handkerchief. “Thank you, Rego. Thank you for bringing this letter to me.” Rego nodded to her. “Now let’s see what else is in here, shall we?” She pulled out another envelope. “This one is addressed to you,” she said smiling.
Rego took the envelope and opened it. He pulled the letter out and unfolded it. Still dumbfounded, he read it out loud:
My dear boy, Rego. By now, you should have found your long lost auntie Lina. First of all, let me say how proud I am of you, Rego. You have journeyed the longest anyone has in our family since your brave aunt Lina did so many years ago now. I apologize for being so secretive about the whole thing, but I knew that I could depend on you and I knew you would keep to your word and not look upon the contents of the case. After all, as your auntie can tell you, I do love a wonderful adventure.
“That he does,” quipped Lina.
This is a journey that I had always wanted to make and now you have made it for me. I was with you every step of the way, my boy, and I am immensely proud of you. I also apologize if you had some bad company along the way. I’m afraid, that what you now hold is a very prized possession of our lovely government. Well, if you are reading this, then I know you have beaten them and have preserved our family’s heritage once again. I know you must be confused about all this, but your aunt will explain everything to you in detail. Please look after your aunt and grandmother Rego, I know you will. For such a young man, you have had to face many sad things. You have had a tough life, but you have always been in the best of care with my sister, Maria. Remember, my son, family will always be the strongest bond of life, and it can never be broken. You are most worthy of what we give to you now. My only hope is that you live a long life and raise a wonderful f
amily of your own and that most of all, you are happy. Maria has told me many things about Rosa. She is very happy for you and she loves the both of you very much. God bless you, boy. And remember I am always there with you, now, and through all your life’s adventures. With love and sincerity, Uncle Enso.
Rego sat with the paper shaking in his hand. He took a deep breath and sighed long and hard.
“This is what he left you, Rego,” Lina said, pulling the last of the contents of the satchel out. They were documents written in fancy lettering and an official seal at the bottom of all the pages. “This is the title to a large piece of land, Rego, a piece of land in northern Brazil that has been in the family for several generations. It is said to be where the Botelha family settled when they migrated from the old country centuries ago.” She handed the documents over to Rego. He stared at them in disbelief. “It is a land that has been unspoiled for hundreds of years, just south of the Amazon region. It is open, vast and beautiful.”
“How much land is it, Aunt Lina?” he asked dumbfounded. He had never heard this story ever in his life.
“It’s possibly over four hundred acres of unspoiled territory. Some say it is the lost legend of Salamanca,” she said with a laugh.
“Ah, everybody knows that is a myth, Aunt Lina. Every kid in Brazil knows that that cave is empty,” he said shaking his head.
“Yes, the cave is empty, but the land is not,” she added. “For you see, this land is known to be sitting on top of some of the richest oil reserves in all of Brazil!”
Rego’s jaw dropped once again. “It is?” he asked in shock. She nodded yes to him with a broad smile on her face.
“That is why the government has hounded us for years for this land. But it is not theirs. And the Botelha family has held onto it for generations in spite of them. I’ve never always agreed with it, but that is the way it has been ever since I can remember. It has been secretly passed down in the family ever since.”
Rego couldn’t believe his ears. All this time his uncle had been sitting on a virtual gold mine.
“You have to be responsible though, Rego,” his aunt warned. “You must make the right decisions now when it comes to this land. But as the rightful owner, the government can never take it away from you.” Rego took in every word she said. “And now that my brother has passed on, God rest his soul, I am now the executor of his possessions. That is why he has sent you here. At the end of these documents is the paper I must sign to hand the property over to you. Do you understand all of this?”
“I do, Aunt Lina,” Rego answered. He paused for a moment. “But, people have died, Aunt Lina. They killed a man named Jacomé that was delivering this to me. They wanted to kill me too.”
Lina shook her head and made the sign of the cross. “The poor man. This is why I have never agreed fully with this. It is true, there are some ruthless people, but they are not all like this, Rego. Those were just greedy men using the face of the government as a mask. You must learn to trust with your instincts. And pray, Rego. The Good Lord will never lead you astray.”
She pulled a pen out from inside her habit. “I might be a nun, but I am a prepared one,” she said smartly. She signed the last sheet of the documents. And placed them inside the satchel and handed it back to him. “I’m so proud of you, and happy for you as well, Rego. You have traveled a great distance and succeeded very well. I know you can handle this next adventure,” she said with a smile. He reached over and hugged her.
They stood up and walked out of the garden together. She put her arm around his shoulder. “So tell me, my young nephew, who is this Rosa I hear about?” she asked with an inquisitive smile.
Rego stood on the walls of Mdina in triumph, looking at a panoramic view of the island of Malta. He tried to take in all the wonders of the tiny country and thought about his entire journey to get there. An overwhelming feeling of pride and humility of his accomplishment washed over him. The view was incredibly inspiring. In the distance, he saw the stadium. And beyond that, he saw the small villages lining the landscape. A large domed church rose from one small village, far down the hill from Mdina. Rego shook his head in amazement. “Thank you, Uncle Enso,” he said to himself. “It has been the adventure of a lifetime.”