A reforma do porteiro (The porter's last day)
QECR C1473 palavras
Aurelio was our building's porter for thirty-one years, and on the morning he left I could not have told you his surname. I knew the shape of him at the far end of the entrance hall, bent over the post. I knew that he wore a grey jacket in winter and the same jacket, unbuttoned, in June. That is the whole of it. Thirty-one years is longer than I have known most of my friends.
There was a small gathering for him in the hall on the Friday, organised by the woman from the second floor, who is good at these things. Somebody had bought a cake that nobody cut. We stood about holding plastic cups and saying that the building would not be the same, which was true in a way we did not examine, and Aurelio thanked us twice and then, when the silence went on, a third time. He seemed anxious for us to be released. I have thought since that he was the only person there who understood exactly what the occasion was.
There was a card, and I signed it. I stood with the pen for a while, wrote 'All the best', and then added '4B', because it seemed necessary. It was only in the lift afterwards that it struck me: to a man I had greeted every working day for eleven years, my name had turned out to be a flat number. He would have known who I was in any case: he knew whose parcels went where, which bell had never worked, which dog belonged to which door. That was his job, of course. The things people do for us that we would rather not owe them for, we are quick to call a job.
He was not a talkative man. I have said this to two or three people this week, and each time it has come out sounding like an explanation, which is exactly what I intend it to be. In fairness, none of us had time; the mornings are what they are. And yet I can produce without effort the names of the two brothers who run the café across the road, and the café only opened four years ago.
The new porter started on Monday. He is younger, and he has already put a small plant on the desk, which I take to be a statement of intent. I asked him his name before I had taken off my coat — Bruno — and I have used it twice a day since, with a warmth I can hear myself producing. My neighbour on the fifth floor said it was nice to see somebody making an effort. I agreed that it was. I did not say what the effort was for, she did not ask, and we went up together, watching the numbers.
Palavras que talvez não conheças
- porterporteiro de prédio
- surnameapelido
- entrance hallátrio, entrada do prédio
- the posto correio, as cartas
- unbuttoneddesabotoado
- gatheringpequeno convívio
- to be releasedque o deixem ir embora
- it struck me (that)dei-me conta de repente, ocorreu-me
- parcelencomenda
- to owe somebody for somethingficar em dívida com alguém por algo
- in fairnesspara ser justo
- warmthcalor humano, afeto
- desk (in a lobby)balcão da portaria
Perguntas
Respondem-se com o texto à frente. Não é memória: é perceber.
What does the first paragraph establish about the writer and Aurelio?
Years of daily contact that never became any real acquaintance — Não se diz com adjetivos, diz-se com um dado: trinta e um anos de portaria e nem sequer sabe o apelido. O que fica é uma silhueta ao fundo do átrio e um casaco cinzento. O parágrafo mede a distância, não o afeto.
What is implied by the words 'which was true in a way we did not examine'?
The polite phrase turned out to be exact, and nobody wanted to look at why — A frase de circunstância — «o prédio já não vai ser o mesmo» — acaba por ser mesmo verdadeira, e por isso ninguém a examina: examiná-la obrigaria a reconhecer o que se perde ao certo e quem o sustentava.
In the writer's view, Aurelio understood the meaning of the farewell better than the neighbours did.
True — Verdadeiro. Aurelio agradece três vezes e parece querer que as pessoas possam ir embora; quem narra conclui que era «o único que percebia exatamente o que aquilo era». É um juízo de quem narra, e é isso que há que localizar.
What does the writer's remark about the word 'job' reveal?
That naming it a job spares the neighbours the feeling of being in debt — «That was his job, of course» parece uma explicação neutra, mas a frase seguinte desmonta-a: chamamos trabalho àquilo que preferimos não ter de agradecer. A palavra serve para não ficar em dívida, e quem narra sabe-o enquanto o escreve.
Each time the phrase 'he was not a talkative man' is repeated, it comes out sounding like an ___.
explanation — A palavra do texto é explanation, e quem narra acrescenta que é exatamente o que pretende que seja: não está a descrever Aurelio, está a justificar-se. Também se aceita excuse.
What is left unsaid in the last paragraph?
That the effort with Bruno is a late repair for eleven years of not asking — Pergunta o nome do novo porteiro antes de tirar o casaco, e ouve-se a produzir esse calor humano. Quando a vizinha o elogia, a resposta é «I agreed that it was» e mais nada: não se diz para que serve o esforço, e é aí que está o que não se admite.