Cartas à restinga 75decided to build me a “star”, a large kite of hexagonal format, full of boundary fringes,
which produced an interesting noise in the wind. The frame, made of pieces of sugar
cane arrows, was covered with waterproof paper, a little stronger and heavier than the
silk paper, most commonly used in the kites manufacture. But that was not a simple kite,
at least for me. It would be, perhaps, about 1m tall. For a child, it was huge!
After several hours of work in spaced days that I followed anxiously, the artwork
was completed. I couldn’t wait for the test. Dad bought a sturdier string, consistent with the
wind of Grussaí. The tail was made with cloth, with enough weight to stabilize the star.
And there we went to the Restinga, an ideal space for the first flight, which was a
success. It was not too easy for me to hold that beautiful kite, as I was under 10 year of
age. Due to its characteristics, it was not possible to make many moves, like the runner’s
kite. That kite was made to stay suspended in the air, moving smoothly, drawing atten-
tion for its beauty and noise made by the fringes.
However that beauty was admired only by us, after all, we were alone at the
end of the Restinga. And I was not worried about showing it to others. Then, one day,
the wind way and direction changed to the South. Wind with clouds, fine rain, chilly... It
was the middle of the week, I was alone. By midafternoon I decided to raise up the star.
Everything was going fine until a company appears suddenly in the sky. From a distance,
unable to recognize what it was, someone controlled a small kite, which approached my
star. Soon the lines crossed, which does not made sense to me! At first, I thought it was
a funny situation, but in a few seconds my heart speeded up. The string was cut and the
star crashed in free fall. Fortunately it was heavy and I was in the Restinga. The rescue
was easy with no damage! It was the feeling of being beaten without a reason!
I came back to my house, frustrated and scared! In the weekend, with my father
at the house, I told him what happened and I felt protected with a renewed courage to
return and raise up the star. We went to the Restinga, where the wind was still Southern.
The star was in the sky and without delay, that little kite showed up again, which unfortu-
nately had a powerful weapon. That line had what we call “cerol” (a mixture of glue and
pieces of triturated glass - fine glass powder), something I had never heard about. Our
star went down again. Now my father was with me and he would resolve the situation
with those insolent boys, whose heads appeared through the distance behind a surinam
cherry tree. It was an insult, cutting our star and not be punished!
But we also had a weapon: Jeep, our terrier dog, a great companion. My father
ordered Jeep to run after the boys, who were distant from us. “Go, Jeep, get them!” Jeep
barked a lot, but did not understand anything, could see nothing and could do nothing
with those boys who were maybe 200m distant, which seemed a huge distance for me.