Easter Sunday at the restaurant

We spent Easter Sunday at Maria Amélia's restaurant -or, as we would say at home, 'at the restaurant'. It was just after 11 when we arrived. The restaurant was still empty, but it soon started filling up with mostly old Portuguese people. They hugged and kissed her before taking their place at the reserved tables. Next to us sat a young -compared to the rest of the clientele- couple. She was kind and smiled easily. He -a corpulent, middle aged Portuguese man with abundant black hair and the top few buttons of the shirt undone- was quiet most of the time and smoked many cigarettes. After having eaten I went to make a coffee for myself and the man asked me to make one for him too. While I was busy behind the bar he asked Rati if he speaks Portuguese, starting a little cordial conversation. It is something rather remarkable in an atmosphere where she's often looked at with contempt and suspicion -because she's the only black person there that is not cleaning or serving the tables.

The friendly couple spent most of their lunch talking to Moira, the Irish pensioner that goes to the restaurant every Sunday since its opening more than a decade ago. Moira always seats at the same table -the one close to the bar, facing the street. She smokes, eats soup and drinks a carafe of white house wine. If you have the patience to listen to her she'll tell you spicy stories of her younger years. Moira speaks with a hoarse voice and is always ready to swear. Rati calls her 'Ms Donovan', as she could easily be a sister of Mickey Donovan -or part of the Donovans' clan in any case.

When the customers finished eating they paid and ceremoniously kissed Maria Amélia goodbye. One after another, they slowly walked out of the restaurant. A small commotion aroused in the street, as some of the cars needed to be moved to give way to those who arrived and were leaving first. Within minutes, when almost everyone was already driving home, the homeless started arriving from all directions to demand their food. Every day Maria Amélia feeds school kids, poor pensioners, unemployed youngsters and drug addicts with soup, bread and leftovers. For Easter she had also prepared takeaway containers with a piece of Portuguese traditional cake, and egg and some sweets for each of the people receiving food.

As the few Portuguese elders remaining paid their respects to the cook and owner, Betty and Stella ran to the kitchen and back giving away portions of food, filling up bottles of water and collecting more empty lunch boxes at the gate. Behind it, sitting on the floor or leaning against the wall, at least a dozen people of all ages and races ate or waited for the food. There was a sense of excitment among them, and some tried to fool the girls and get a second portion at the expense of others. Maria Amélia was frantic trying to put some order while collecting the last payments. The girls, that kept rushing up and down carrying containers, looked at us and laughed at the drama.