Prost Gotvin - Part 17

This is Prost Gotvins geometri by Gert Nygårdshaug. The translation was done by Roy Johansen. Nygårdshaug is a Norwegian author and the text has not yet been published in English. Roy is a friend of mine who recently moved back to his native Norway. He has translated a good part of the novel and I'm trying to convince him to finish it.

Here’s Part 16.

Father Gotvin's First Journey (continued)

At the Gare du Nord we had a longer stay. I might have used the time to see a little of Paris, instead I remained in a café in the waiting hall with a bottle of wine, a large glass of water, and a loaf of Parisian bread right from the oven. I was tired. I had just phoned home and talked with Margit Nederstuen. My father had dug up half the field and she was at her wits' end. The metal detector had become an obessession with old Kastor; rusty bits of iron were accumulating on the kitchen table; everything he found had to go there. Were there traces of a green 1934 Hillman delivery truck? Margit Nederstuen was desperate – wouldn't he come home soon? Yes, he was on his way, but had to spend a couple of days in Denmark so would Margit be kind enough to extend him a short-term loan? Deposit a thousand kroner on his account today or tomorrow at the latest? Sure, no problem. She'd take care of everything, but what would I do with my father when I came home? I drank wine and water and waited for my train to get ready for embarkation. Next stop was Copenhagen, then a different train to Trelleborg, which, according to the map was in the southwestern part of Zealand - what was I to do there? Stroll around a Viking fortress? As around for th enigmatic Preben Hansson? Yes, that's what I had to do. Where was she now? I closed my eyes for a moment with my wine glass on my lips. She was on an excursion with her students to some caves where Neanderthals had possibly once lived. What was a Neanderthal? A human, a human being like me, created in the image of God. What came before the Neanderthals? Homo erectus, I seemed to remember, and before that there was homo habilis, and if one went ever-further back in time, three-four-five million years, a breathtaking time span, we would find homo australopithecus. Some time, a few years ago, I had read about this, about evolution the way paleontologists through their excavations have demonstrated, could homo erectus be classified as a human being? Yes, it probably could, but what about habilis and australopithecus - were they even our distant relatives? Created in the image of God? I had experienced doubt and I still had no clue, but where was the delineation between man and beast? Did such a demarcation exist? The transition from ramaphitecus, who resembled modern apes, to australopithecus, who resembled us humans, and who possibly was a human being – the transitions here were almost indiscernible and spanned millions of years. Was it possible to put down a demarcation and say, "There, precisely there emerged the first people, Adam and Eve, created in the image of God." Was it really possible to surgically bisect this row of continuous, minute biological transformations somewhere in this evolutionary chain and categorically say, "You are an animal, you are a human being"? Was this possible? What did Lucienne think about this? Were Adam and Eve Neanderthals? Or even australopithecine? Images of God, God's parables weren't all equally easy to understand and my inquisitiveness had often taken me into cul-de-sacs where my inadequacies had not been able to find a way out, and sitting here at the railway station waiting to embark a train, I again found myself stumbling around in these cul-de-sacs. Stumbling around blindly with a strong desire to know where in the evolutionary chain to fix the borderline between beast and man, between non-soul and soul, and I knew that this was emerging because I might, some time in the future, talk with her about it. This was her territory, our future topics of discussion – paleoarchaeology. I didn't want to appear ignorant, least of all I wished to appear dogmatic in my belief, but here, too, were borderlines. I held onto my thoughts on the evolutionary chain while drinking the last few sips of red wine. These thoughts had usually, despite only being the result of my own naïve inquisitiveness, made me feel uneasy, but this time I felt completely at ease. Far better to think these thoughts than to recall the terror in the face of the garbage man Pedro Urz.

The PA system announced my train.
I got up and walked to platform eight.
Found my compartment and my seat.
In the corner.
Four youths with Euro-passes plus me.
I hung up my jacket and put my head behind it.
I wanted to sleep.

I closed my eyes in the darkness behind my jacket and smiled. Was she thinking about me right now? Probably. I could hear her voice, feel her thoughts. I was going to Denmark to solve the riddle, but why did you have to make it this difficult? Why this game? Certain demands, she had said; this was one of the demands. Were there more? Probably not. "Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God, fear not though the light appear weak, worries are strangers to no man. Lord my Father, never again shall I enclose my fear within me, but seek You and follow the way Jesus Christ has shown." Thus was my prayer before I fell asleep.