This excerpt is taken from: pp29-32 Polygon new paperback edition (2009)
From the section entitled “¿FODOCUMENT”

I moved inside, the woman shutting the door. I said, I must have the baby, give the baby to me, quickly. The women were staring. I strode to the baby and gestured from it to the woman, the mother, Say to her. Securitys are returning, I know it, move quickly now they are coming quickly and they must move and quickly, exit, they must go, and safely, quickly. The elderly man now was at the fireside and he nodded to myself, colleague, and the other two fellows had heeded this, were gone, the one I think is the artist, father or if he is also a lawyer, looking to myself and now he saw I that I was and he spoke it, of myself, colleague, touching the foreign one on the shoulder, as so, they must leave, and a boy now was here, leading them through a back way into one more courtyard to one more passageway. Outside were many places one could go, go there go anywhere, some days a little market with vegetables, but at nighttime nothing. I did come to know this area, one could become lost there more quickly.

I saw one woman then looking to myself, the child holding her hand also looking at me, she thought I would not see but in her mind

She and not the other woman.

But no, none there had regard for me. The old man did not look to me. Who was I, if a colleague, he knew it did not know it, these were meaningless times for him, his people are killed, new people come, babies are into existence, what their names may be, what is their gender, they have none they are babies, babies live or die, as children, boys or girls, live or die, men and women, elderly people, some live some are dead, colleagues not colleagues, it is continuation only, what are human beings, this planet Earth

the women hated me

I do not know respect, we do things, respect, respect may be for different things. The women had no reason. What reason could they have had, none. If I had not

I must have the baby, give the baby to me, it is best, quickly. The women were staring. I said, It is best, hurry. I strode to the baby and gestured from it to the woman, the two men now were gone, the boy with them, leading them. They had minutes, I do not know,

and banging banging, to the door, and noises outside it.

The elderly man had a covering now over his shoulders, also he was looking to the fireside, the child now by her mother, holding her hand her hand round her leg, holding onto her, looking from her to the other woman all now one to another, worried what would happen, worried worried, for the boy, fearful, fearful, if he would be safe, what would happen to him, saving the foreigner who so must be saved, of course, we would save him, all would save him, man such as he, in our country for we, ourselves, it is we he is for in our country and was to be saved. It was early for myself in this town, we had come only days before. I was out walking, returning to our house, there were obligations, I would confront these, yes

Banging banging, the securitys at the door, more noises now and the woman, and I strode to the baby and gestured from it to herself, giving it to me, little thing, slippery thing fighting from me and startled looks, who was I, this big man, monster. I pointed to the plates all things on the table and the woman went to there as again the door was thumped and more noises now outside I heard them. The baby was in my arm now, crook of my arm, I held it, her head safely. I have my own daughter and could hold babies, now opening the door, it being pulled backwards by them. They were not prepared for this. I said nothing to them, just watchful as anyone, if in these circumstances. The older one from before, with another, stood there, they looked to myself, and he said, So this is where you are.

Other securitys were through the house and one was to the old man who stared only to the fireside, into it.

This is your family, said one of them, gesture to the baby. He is your son? I could not speak. And your little girl, gesturing to the child, this is a fine family.

I said something to them, perhaps if what they wanted, I might have asked them, laughing at me give me give me give me! The woman cried out but she was by the table and did not move, securitys with her there. Yes we can take the baby, said that same one also smiling, but babies, we have enough babies. What else do you have for us? Who is your wife? Now looking to the women, a step to the women, looking to their faces and to my face. You are not old enough for these women, where is your woman she is a girl. What woman, who is yours, two of them. You people have many wives. The securitys smiled. These are your children? You are younger. Silence, myself, saying nothing. Your son? Becoming impatient, if to say daughter, what they would do I do not know I could not think only that I felt now the anger was in me, my throat now, it was that anger now in my throat, choking it back, I held the baby, knowing its fear, it would be looking at me, fearful, to scream at me, scream. My mother has been dead five years past, my father six years. So much. None cares about my mother and my father. How they should, why. I saw the baby now, not screaming, curious, and I saw him also who was from before, one youth of these, bayonets, these eyes, what are these eyes, looking, looking. What else do you have for us? Your mother, I said. When I was hit then. We do not want your jokes, give something else to me. Your father and behind me the woman. The baby was in the crook of my arm…

Set in an unnamed place that appears to be under military rule, this novel comprises of various ‘transcribed and/or translated’ first-hand narratives of non-English speakers, reminiscent of accounts of incidents in Rwanda, Yugoslavia and even the Cultural Revolution in China. The fragmented, dream-like episodes and the broken elegance of the language make Translated Accounts a powerful and disconcerting read.