Stories of Paraná - The bell of the chapel

Stories of Paraná - The bell of the chapel

The bell of the chapel
Flora Muñoz Rocha

I remember when, for a time, the Souza attended the wheel mate back home on Sundays, where talk of politics out a constant.
It was an election year and Souza, stung by the blue fly, decided to apply for deputy.
Benedict was clear - campaign first timer without constituency consisted of work but redoubled, heart wished him good luck.
Souza bought a jeep.
Planned maps, itineraries.
Planned verbiage, promises and left the roads outside, behind the redoubts unexplored, fulfilling the arduous task which is imposed to garner votes.

Hands firmly on the handlebars, Souza was ruminating conjectures.
Recognized his temerity in dispute.
No electorate without sponsorship, the competition was fierce feud.
Even though money was no problem, had booming industry.
Thoughts unfolding spotted a hamlet.
Souza slowed. The village seemed not working for any candidate. There were visible signs or plaques.
Did quick calculation based on the number of roofs. The first contact was with the Father, which is populated in the force majeure.
Souza crossed the yard popping the dried leaves detached last windstorm.
A warm scent of eucalyptus came off its tread. The priest, seated on the porch breathed green planting.
Presented.
Without the courage to directly address, asked if Mr. Vicar had a preference for any candidate. The priest merely raising his shoulders, but when he knew he was facing one of them, reinvigorated itself.
Knew how to visit candidate always won something for his church.
Exchanged grins and Souza after value themselves properly, asked if the church was not in need of anything. The priest pointed his left eye for the steeple bell dared to speak.
Souza blinking his left eye said "Leave Me." They parted with effusive Souza pats on the back and resumed the direction of his journey.
In less than month, returns with bell in good metal box packed in solid wood. The vicar took euphoric famous steps and the bell was installed beautifully, sending his first peal which reached distances unpredictable.
Residents approached and thanked.
Embarrassed to charge immediately, asked not vote.
Leaves it up to the priest.
While the two sipped the pink Vinno hospitality, Souza discoursed eloquently about the importance of his election for the sake of Paraná. In response received religious smiles promising.
Souza went away convinced that the votes of the village would be referred to the name of his recent benefactor.
When fired, the green had darkened and the stars shone peacefully.
A minimum was not elected.
Who has failed miserably was the vicar who won the bell.
Not a single vote was counted it on the ballot in the village.
Within him urged a vengeance: He took the jeep, took two workers of their booming industry, took the empty box bell, ladder, tools and the third time did the way the village ungrateful.
He stopped in front of the church.
Daylight faded and the bell badalava avemaria.
Without contemplation was erected the ladder, removed the bell, put back in its box lined with fine straw.
When the priest appeared in the doorway, the Holocaust had already been consummated.
Souza did not say a word, merely looking at him for a minimum and slamming the door of the jeep accelerated.
The dust rose from the road turned out the vision of a cassock esvo-Acando and two raised hands waving dramatically.

Flora Muñoz Rocha, former first lady of the state's chronicler


Source: Stories of Paraná, Brasil.