Selected Cronicas

FEAR OF ETERNITY

I shall never forget my dramatic and harrowing contact with eternity.

As a little girl I had never chewed bubble-gum and in Recife it was not easy to find. I simply had no idea what bubble-gum looked like. My pocket-money was meagre and for the price of bubble-gum I could have bought lots of sweets.

My sister managed to save up enough money to buy some. On our way to school, she gave me a piece and warned me: Be careful not to lose it, because you can chew it forever. Bubble-gum lasts for ages.

— What do you mean, it lasts for ages? I stopped in my tracks, completely bewildered.

— It lasts forever and that’s that.

I was easily impressed and felt as if I had been transported to a never-never land inhabited by princes and good fairies. I grabbed that small pink object which promised eternal pleasure and carefully examined it, suspicious of its miraculous powers. Like most children, I would sometimes take a boiled sweet out of my mouth after the first few sucks, to keep it for later. And here I was in possession of this pink object, so innocent in appearance yet capable of realizing this impossible world of which I had just been made aware.

With the utmost delicacy, I finally popped the bubble-gum into my mouth.

— And now what am I supposed to do? — I asked my sister, for fear of spoiling whatever ritual might be expected of me.

— Suck the bubble-gum until you begin to taste the sweetness and then you can start chewing. And after that you can go on chewing for as long as you like. Unless you happen to lose it. I’ve lost mine several times.

Lose eternity? Never.

The bubble-gum had a nice enough taste but nothing out of the ordinary. And I was still puzzled as we made our way to school.

— It doesn’t taste sweet any more. Now what?

— Now you carry on chewing.

For some strange reason I felt nervous. I began chewing and that rubbery gum in my mouth had now turned grey and tasted of nothing. I chewed and chewed but felt sadly disappointed. It would have been a lie to say I was enjoying that bubble-gum. And the fact that it lasted forever filled me with fear, the kind of fear one experiences when confronted with the idea of eternity or the infinite.

I was reluctant to admit that I was not up to eternity. The very idea distressed me. But meanwhile, I obediently carried on chewing without stopping.

Until I could stand it no longer and as I went through the school gates I managed to let it drop on to the ground.

— Oh, look what’s happened! — I said, feigning alarm and disappointment. Now I can’t chew it any more. I’ve lost my bubble-gum!

— How many times do I have to tell you! my sister rebuked me — bubble-gum lasts forever. Unless you’re silly enough to lose it. You can even chew it in bed at night, and then stick it on the head-board before you fall asleep. Never mind, one day I’ll give you another piece if you promise not to lose it next time.

My sister’s generosity filled me with remorse. And I began to regret that I had lied to her by insisting the bubble-gum had dropped by accident. But I felt so relieved. No longer burdened by the weight of eternity.