Stories of Paraná - On the verge of Ivaí

Stories of Paraná - On the verge of Ivaí

On the edge of Ivaí
Mary Alice Volpato

It was not raining when dust and mud when it rained. There was no way the same. The father kept saying go Peabiru to Maringa, which at that time had a branch of the Bank of Brazil, even if only in underwear.
That's because, in his underwear, he could "swallow dust" at will. And, before arriving at the agency, put clean clothes.
Would be ready to ask one more time to pay debts.
These jeep trips, it was good when I got that corner before Ivaí, the most important river in northern Paraná. After the bend, there was the river, immense for young eyes.
Marron, the noise of the stream giving chills down your spine.
Surrounded by woods, on all sides. The old jeep progressed slowly and we wondered how many things could run along with the water.
The father respected Ivaí and in conversation it was always that reference "is a little after Ivaí or iiiiiih, far from Ivaí".
One day, he came to the story of the white shoes.
He said that a truck driver had stolen a woman, leading to the edge of Ivaí there and killed poor.
After killing the man burned the body, taken from the gasoline tank truck.
All that was left was a pair of heels, white, played near the river.
Was the only evidence of the crime that the police found.
After the story was the mayor of a neighboring town, married a second time, a real scandal for the time, as the legitimate wife still lived in town.
He came back from a journey bringing new woman. The Dona Maria, seamstress, told the whole city, passing by Ivaí, the blonde asked her husband to stop the car.
Wanted to wash your face before you arrive.
It was the dust forever.
When the jeep across the bridge at night, we raised his head to look at the forest.
Who knows, they could not show those white shoes, high heel? When it was day, we wondered how the blonde finória the mayor could face wash that muddy water. And the eye painted her as she was then?
The Ivaí still there, the bridge means to shy eyes that have raced world. The history of white shoes lost in some police station and mayor's blonde, now respectable widow, neither shall remember the pass the road.
But every time there is a curve, a little before the river, around the ancient sense of who will finally see a pair of white shoes thrown in the woods.
The waters now run too fast for adult eyes.
With the same speed as ran year.

Mary Alice Volpato is Maringa, graduated in Sociology.


Source: Stories of the Paraná, Brasil.