Shadows of huge trees around

Early in the morning. It's six-thirty at most. Here I breathe in the air of the many ecosystems around, cerrados, high altitude fields and ciliar forests that border the rivers of the region. The sky is overcast, a light, gentle rain is falling, but one that could sometimes soak you wet to the bone.

I'm at the large porch in front of the house. The tile patterns in the porch fascinate me, bringing back details of my childhood, as the tiles in the neighbors' house where I used to live as a child. Something that stayed in the memory of decades, has no longer faded away.

At seven the sound of the screen door and its noisy coils pulls me out from introspection. No one else at the door but my young client, Andrés Silva Conselheiro. He sees me in the corner of the porch and stands still for a moment in front of the screen door. Through his body language I manage to detect light yet perceptible inner struggle of him between coming or not closer. Eventually he decides to come closer.

"What time did you wake up?" By the tone of his voice, it seemed to be important information for him.

"Good morning."

He looked disappointed by the reply. Said good morning. I told him I had woken up at around six-fifteen or twenty. Andrés asked me if I always woke up at this time in the morning.

"Not really", I said, "only when I come to the country."

"When you have 'clients' in the country?"

"No. I am speaking about the beauty of the morning in the country. I don't need to wake up early to talk to my clients."

He didn't seem convinced at all. As a matter of fact, his point was that I had to wake up to talk to my clients, because this is time people usually wake up and get up to go to work. I told him there are many kinds of jobs, each with a different nature, to be executed at different times of the day. At hospitals, what of the patients if everyone were sleeping when they all demanded care from the hospital's staff 24 hours a day?

"Well, that's very true", he admitted.

He was looking at me for some time, the same defiant and cold look as yesterday morning at breakfast. I returned him the look and we talked about the city and the farm while we watched the gentle rain fall. He told me of the town's ancient traditions. As the story already told by his mother of the mating bulls that were sold at the spot, an open-air market for them which gave the town its name. Its name and much more, I suppose.

"Yes", he conceded, "we owe a lot to them."

And looking fixedly at me, he added:

"Actually we owe everything to them."

Aparecida came out to the porch and called us for breakfast. Seemed happy to see Andrés and I were talking. At the dining room, Adriano greeted me before his father. We talked much more than yesterday. Andrés had his fun telling them about our few pieces of conversation at the porch, quoted my example of the hospital and commented that there must be a lot of different walks of life out there (a fantastic notion at twelve when so many at twenty have no perception of it at all) and spoke about new calves born these days and how he helped as he could in their bearing. I could notice how he'd talk about many subjects, but would always return to his dearest one.

In the afternoon, there was no shadow of Andrés anywhere near the farm's house. Adriano told me his brother walks the whole farm, never stays only nearby. We sat on a bench under a small rooftop by a tall tree, hiding from the drizzle and started talking. He told me that Andrés is like addicted to the subject of cattle, and he is chiefly interested in bulls.

"I don't think I'll ever meet someone so keen on these animals as my brother", he said, "I dig this thing like hell, but not an inch of how much he does."

"Has it been long since he started growing so fond of cattle issues? Would you say it was born with him?"

"I think so, I mean, this is how he came from factory", Adriano laughed.

He went on to tell me something about his grandfather Andrés (whose name was borrowed by his son Duílio for my new client), renowned cattle farmer in the região, maybe the one Adriano said he would never meet, maybe the only one to like cattle more than the grandson Andrés who he could never meet. Apparently a hereditary trait. This got me interested on the spot. His own background seemingly starting with his grandfather's.

"Where do you think he might be right now?"

Adriano was confused.

"Who, my Grandpa or my brother?"

"Your brother…"

"Dunno. He might have gone downtown… Or to the Horn Falls."

I laughed and ask for explanations about the odd name. Adriano laughed as well and said there were salient stones as high as someone's head and caution must be exercised unless the person wanted to hit the stones with their horns. And we two had to laugh again, once for the name and twice for the explanation of the name.

"Does Andrés usually go the waterfall even on rainy days?"

"If it's not heavy rain he doesn't care, it seems."

I ask for directions to the waterfall and Adriano puts me in the picture. According to him, the waterfall is not very far from the farm. It's a chance to see Andrés in his natural doing, even if we have to sit down there and talk.

The track is wide through the trees of the ciliar forest, but promises to narrow ahead. I walk carefully through the track wet by the ever-present drizzle, seeking to avoid stepping on the slippery moss on the way. The trees are the only witnesses of my lonely walk. Birds call from the nearby trees. The light beating down on the forest is weak from the absence of sunlight, but it nicely illuminates the way despite the shadows of huge trees around. From a curve on, the sound of the waterfall grows more audible. More and more curves, and it seems I have finally reached the spot.

I see the stones Adriano referred to, salient in the middle of the track, sticking out from the slope by its side. I lower my head lest I learn physically the reason for the waterfall's name. And there it is, beautiful, tall, with a strong flow of water. Very beautiful waterfall, there's no shadow of doubt. I come closer to it with each step I take.

If Andrés was here, he is no more. No one at the spot, only I and my reflections. Disappointed, I decide to sit down and contemplate the fall, since it was a good walk here to see the waterfall too. I don't know how long I stayed there, now used to the drizzle falling non-stop and the larger drops filtered by the tree that landed right on top of my head.

A voice calls me "Ms. Grisam" from a distance. I look to find Andrés climibing the rocks that separate him from the waterfall spot, coming my way. He sits down at my side and says nothing at first, taking a good look at the fall for a moment. I say nothing either, prefer to wait to hear what he'll say next.

"Adriano told me you were looking for me."

"I really was, but there was nothing special. Just wanted to talk."

"I see."

Another one of those long pauses. There isn't really a lot to say by the hellish natural noise of a waterfall.

"And you talked about Grandpa Andrés?"

"Your brother is very detailed at describing events for sure. He also told me maybe your Grandpa is the only one that liked the subject of bulls and cattle more than yourself."

"He said that, huh?" Andrés was silent for a moment, maybe deciding what to do with the piece of information.

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