No sooner had she entered the room than she stripped off the heavy, soaked vestments—those papal clothes were not designed for the tropical climate of Brazil—feeling the immediate relief of air against her skin. In the bathroom, she stared at the metal shower with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Carlos had explained the two taps – one for water that came out cold from the cistern and another, miraculous one, that gushed heated water.
The night has cooled, but the air is still warm... A cold bath would be the most sensible..., she thought, her habitual frugality battling temptation. But... he went to the trouble of preparing all this. It would be ungrateful not to try it, wouldn't it? Just to understand his invention.
The decision was made. Her hand turned the tap marked with a "Q", and she flinched slightly at the surprising noise from the pipes. A weak trickle at first, then a steady stream of warm water began to fall. Paula reached out her hand, testing the temperature. It was... pleasant. More than that, it was comforting. She stepped under the flow, and a deep, involuntary sigh escaped her lips. The warm water ran through her hair, over her tense shoulders, washing away the weariness of the day. It was a sensation of an embrace, of pure physical pleasure, far better than any bath she had ever had.
Her eyes scanned the damp walls of the shower stall, landing on a few ceramic and glass bottles set in niches. On one of them, a simple drawing showed a woman rubbing the product into her hair. There were instructions in clear lettering.
"Shampoo... for hair cleansing. Conditioner... for softness and shine..." she read in a low voice, intrigued.
Curiosity overcame any hesitation. She took the shampoo bottle, poured a little into her hand – a gelatinous substance scented with something reminiscent of herbs and flowers – and applied it to her hair. To her surprise, a rich, creamy lather appeared, enveloping her in a delightful aroma. The liquid soap that followed was equally fragrant, and the conditioner, a silky lotion that promised wonders. That bath became more than just cleaning; it was a ritual of discovery. When she stepped out, wrapped in a soft towel, her skin was clean and perfumed, and a strange lightness took hold of her body.
The next morning, looking at herself in the foggy mirror, Paula couldn't contain her astonishment. Her hair, always a bit unruly and dull, looked different. It was visibly shinier, silky to the touch. She brought a lock to her nose and inhaled deeply. The soft, persistent scent of wildflowers was undeniable.
This Carlos..., she thought, an involuntary smile appearing on her lips. He certainly set a trap for me... She smelled her hair again, closing her eyes to savor the sensation. Such a delicious trap... He will, without a doubt, try to sell me these products at an exorbitant price. And I... well, I'm afraid I might agree to any price he asks.
A deep, unmistakable rumble came from her stomach, breaking the spell. She stretched, working muscles that were still relaxed.
"Carlos said we would have breakfast at one of his restaurants," she murmured to herself, dressing in one of her simpler, yet no less elegant, tunics.
As she left the room, she encountered a guard posted outside her door. The man, with a serious expression, inclined his head slightly.
"Good morning, Your Holiness."
"Good morning, my son. May God watch over you," she replied with a genuine smile before heading down the corridor.
Outside, the Mocambo was already pulsing with morning life. The fresh air carried the smell of fresh bread. Children with cloth backpacks ran towards the school, their laughter echoing between the buildings. Workers swept the cobblestone streets, while a steady stream of laborers headed to the factories. It was then that a white woman, dressed in a well-cut, simple outfit, approached with a professional smile.
"Good morning, Your Holiness. My name is Fernanda. With the shortage of staff at the mayor's office, I will be your guide today. I imagine you are hungry. We can proceed to the restaurant so you can eat."
Paula nodded, beginning to follow the guide, when a clumsy figure burst from the apartment complex door. It was Francisco, nearly tripping on the steps, still adjusting his clothes.
"Wait, wait for me! I overslept!" he shouted, breathless, catching up to the group. "By all the saints, that bed was an invitation to the sin of sloth! Too soft!"
Paula shook her head, amused.
"Sloth already resided in you long before this bed, Francisco. Come, the smell of food is making me dizzy."
What awaited them, however, was a feast for the senses. A huge table was set with an abundance that bordered on a dream. There were mounds of golden P?es de Queijo, pitchers of fresh milk, cheeses of various colors and textures, a dark, steaming drink that smelled of cocoa, jellies that shone like jewels, Goiabada, pots of yellow butter, crispy French breads, cured salami, and a profusion of fruits that some of them barely recognized.
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Francisco, his eyes wide with hunger and wonder, wasted no time. He grabbed a still-steaming P?o de Queijo and took an audible bite. The crispy crust yielded to the pressure, revealing a soft, elastic interior, smelling intensely of cheese.
"What a heavenly delight!" he exclaimed, his mouth still full, ignoring the disapproving look from one of the guards. "I need, I must get this recipe from Carlos! If I sell this in the bakeries of the Holy City, I'll make a fortune!"
Paula, meanwhile, was drawn like a magnet to the table of sweets. She served herself a mug of hot chocolate, whose rich, woody aroma filled her nostrils. She first tried a simple bread with a sweet, red strawberry jelly, and then a piece of Goiabada that melted in her mouth. To finish, a slice of juicy papaya.
So many traps, she reflected, savoring the sweetness of the fruit. Carlos is a master at placing delicious baits in my path, to make the Quilombo seem like Eden... And the worst part is, I'm starting to believe it is.
Even the guards, whose duty was to maintain composure, couldn't disguise their pleasure. In one corner, one whispered to another as he devoured a bread with melted butter:
"I've never eaten anything like this, brother. It tastes like food for a king."
After they had their fill, Fernanda led them on the tour of the factories. The visit to the Bessemer Converter was an overwhelming experience: the intense heat that burned the skin, the deafening roar of metal being processed, the blinding glow of the liquid steel that was like molten lava. In the textile factories, the rhythmic beating of the looms and the dance of the shuttles were hypnotic. Both Francisco and the Popess were fascinated, asking question after question.
"And the steam, how does it get so much power?" questioned Francisco, shouting to be heard over the noise.
"It's pressure, Mr. Francisco!" explained the foreman, sweating. "The boiling water turns to steam and wants to expand. We just... direct its fury!"
Paula, in turn, watched the female workers with a more clinical eye.
"And the health of these women? The noise is so loud..." she commented to Fernanda.
"We have rotating shifts and wax ear protectors, Your Holiness. It's the best we can do for now."
After the exhausting tour, they returned to the restaurant, where Fernanda said her goodbyes.
"I need to take the report to Chief Carlos. It was an honor, Your Holiness, Mr. Francisco."
Francisco was even a bit embarrassed that everyone was calling him 'Mr.’ and showing him so much respect, totally different from the first time they came here when they wanted to kill him.
Sometime later, at the mayor's office, Fernanda reported to Carlos, who listened attentively, leaning on his desk.
"Mr. Francisco showed a keen interest in the textile machinery and in the food. He realized he couldn't buy a steam engine, so he didn't insist. As for the Popess..." Fernanda made a dramatic pause. "She was truly enchanted by the shampoos and conditioners. She asked detailed questions about the toilet and, of course, was also interested in the steam engine."
Carlos couldn't contain a satisfied smile.
"Fernanda, it seems your last-minute idea to host them in the apartment was excellent. And you even had the idea to furnish it with the Quilombo's best products."
She puffed out her chest with pride, tossing her long brown hair back in a gesture full of confidence.
"After I tried the shampoo and conditioner, I knew any woman would surrender, especially one like the Popess. Rumors say she appreciates beauty but fights against excessive vanity. These products walk that fine line."
"I'm more impressed that you managed to get all the furniture moved in time."
"It wasn't easy, Chief," she admitted, the tiredness visible in her eyes for a moment. "But it all worked out, thanks to your suggestion to keep them here in the Mocambo. Otherwise, my work would have been in vain."
She knows how to flatter her superiors, thought Carlos, observing her. But she's not wrong, and her competence is undeniable. Appointing her as Minister of Labor was one of my best decisions.
"This gives me an idea," he said, standing up. "We need to build a hotel, specifically for receiving distinguished visitors. When Domingo Lopez finishes the hospital, he can take on that project. Your work for today is done, Fernanda. You may rest. Now, I will discuss business with our guests."
At the restaurant, Carlos found Paula and Francisco already waiting. After the last workers had left, he sat down at the table.
"I hope you enjoyed the tour," Carlos began.
"It was... enlightening," said Paula, weighing her words. "Your factories are impressive. But I confess my personal interest lies in other innovations. Hygiene items, for example."
Francisco didn't miss his chance.
"And the recipes, Carlos! That p?o de queijo! The jams! We need to talk about this!"
The negotiation then flowed more naturally. Carlos agreed to sell the designs for building toilets and the recipes for various foods. However, he was firm in his refusal when it came to the designs of the industrial machines.
"The machines are the backbone of the Quilombo, Francisco. That is not negotiable," he explained. "As for the food... well, it's perishable, hard to export. And the toilet... believe me, it will prevent more diseases in the world than any medicine."
Francisco hesitated but accepted. After finalizing the details, the Popess decided to visit the local church to meet her faithful. To Carlos's surprise, the crowd that greeted her was large and fervent.
She is truly famous, pondered Carlos, watching the commotion from afar. Her influence extends even here, among the most humble...
Francisco, meanwhile, spent the afternoon browsing the shops, analyzing every product, tasting every delicacy. From time to time, he came running back to make a new offer to Carlos for some specific recipe.
The afternoon was beginning to wane when a Ganga Zala appeared, ready to be baptized..
"Your Holiness, Mr. Francisco. Chief Carlos says it is time to prepare for the baptism ceremony of Ganga Zala. It will be at the Mocambo da Serra."
Upon arriving at the location, the air was charged with a different solemnity. The Mocambo da Serra was packed. All the chiefs of the allied quilombos were present, forming an imposing semicircle. Around them, a crowd of serious, devout faces, a mix of former slaves, fearsome warriors, and ordinary people, all united in a respectful silence.
Hello everyone! Just a quick note on some of the delicious Brazilian terms that appear in this chapter. To preserve the local flavor, I've left them untranslated:
- P?o de Queijo: A small, baked cheese roll that is a culinary icon of Brazil. It has a crispy outer shell and a chewy, cheesy interior that is absolutely divine.
Goiabada: A dense, sweet paste made from guava fruit and sugar. It's often eaten with cheese in a classic combination known as "romeu e julieta.