Collected Short Fiction by V. S. Naipaul Page B

preacher, and he preached in an odd way. He made women cry, and he made people like Hat really worried.
    He used to hold the Bible in his right hand and slap it with his left and say in his perfect English accent, ‘I have been talking to God these few days, and what he tell me about you people wasn’t really nice to hear. These days you hear all the politicians and them talking about making the island self-sufficient. You know what God tell me last night? Last night self, just after I finish eating? God say, “Man-man, come and have a look at these people.” He show me husband eating wife and wife eating husband. He show me father eating son and mother eating daughter. He show me brother eating sister and sister eating brother. That is what these politicians and them mean by saying that the island going to become self-sufficient. But, brethren, it not too late now to turn to God.’
    I used to get nightmares every Saturday night after hearing Man-man preach. But the odd thing was that the more he frightened people the more they came to hear him preach. And when the collection was made they gave him more than ever.
    In the week-days he just walked about, in his white robe, andhe begged for food. He said he had done what Jesus ordered and he had given away all his goods. With his long black beard and his bright deep eyes, you couldn’t refuse him anything. He noticed me no longer, and never asked me, ‘So you goes to school?’
    The people in Miguel didn’t know what to make of the change. They tried to comfort themselves by saying that Man-man was really mad, but, like me, I think they weren’t sure that Man-man wasn’t really right.
    What happened afterwards wasn’t really unexpected.
    Man-man announced that he was a new Messiah.
    Hat said one day, ‘You ain’t hear the latest?’
    We said, ‘What?’
    ‘Is about Man-man. He say he going to be crucified one of these days.’
    ‘Nobody go touch him,’ Edward said. ‘Everybody fraid of him now.’
    Hat explained. ‘No, it ain’t that. He going to crucify hisself. One of these Fridays he going to Blue Basin and tie hisself to a cross and let people stone him.’
    Somebody – Errol, I think – laughed, but finding that no one laughed with him, fell silent again.
    But on top of our wonder and worry, we had this great pride in knowing that Man-man came from Miguel Street.
    Little hand-written notices began appearing in the shops and cafés and on the gates of some houses, announcing Man-man’s forthcoming crucifixion.
    ‘They going to have a big crowd in Blue Basin,’ Hat announced, and added with pride, ‘and I hear they sending some police, too.’
    That day, early in the morning, before the shops opened and the trolley-buses began running in Ariapita Avenue, the big crowd assembled at the corner of Miguel Street. There were lots of men dressed in black and even more women dressed in white. They were singing hymns. There were also about twenty policemen, but they were not singing hymns.
    When Man-man appeared, looking very thin and very holy, women cried and rushed to touch his gown. The police stood by, prepared to handle anything.
    A van came with a great wooden cross.
    Hat, looking unhappy in his serge suit, said, ‘They tell me it make from match-wood. It ain’t heavy. It light light.’
    Edward said, in a snapping sort of way, ‘That matter? Is the heart and the spirit that matter.’
    Hat said, ‘I ain’t saying nothing.’
    Some men began taking the cross from the van to give it to Man-man, but he stopped them. His English accent sounded impressive in the early morning. ‘Not here. Leave it for Blue Basin.’
    Hat was disappointed.
    We walked to Blue Basin, the waterfall in the mountains to the northwest of Port of Spain, and we got there in two hours. Man-man began carrying the cross from the road, up the rocky path and then down to the Basin.
    Some men put up the cross, and tied Man-man to it.
    Man-man said, ‘Stone me, brethren.’
    The