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| Chronicles of bloodPICTURE ISeveral turns in a same way
Spain.
After the civil war.
In a
scaffold while he greases a big villainous
stick. Its
early morning but it hasn´t dawned yet. Far off,
a vagabond dog whines at the morning star. Pascual:
Sir, I don´t know why, mornings are coming later day after day. And it
has nothing to do with the time of year, since we´re in May and summer is
almost upon us. The summer. What a beautiful time for being kids and splashing in
the water unconcerned… Gosh! Haven´t Ramon and I both enjoyed the stream …!
Take good care of him, Pascual!, my mother would tell me. The thing is, he
looked so fragile… And gosh, how I looked after him! But no.
It´s not the time of year… The time of year has nothing to do with
mornings coming later every day… no Sir. It´s something else.
Starting God knows when back there,
the cold has been penetrating
our bones quicker than before… How strange. The cock should have sung already.
I would gladly break that pimp with feather´s gullet… Of course… If that
would be of any use… But everything´s useless. I could even break the
sun´s own gullet and things would still be the same … Such as they´ve been
for years… Perhaps if I could convince him… If I could give an explanation .
But explain what? You can´t explain a blind man why the sea moves/touches you. Maybe
there’s nothing I can explain him. Perhaps the time’s come to finally face
him. (He says what follows as if the person he is talking to were
there). That this is enough that in no way. That this is already too
much! That this is of extremely bad taste! That His Excellence is a bastard… Well
no, I can keep the bastard to myself… as a secret, I mean. Though
really, everybody knows . That´s it: Do you believe you own the world? Answer
me right away and don´t pretend you´re a donkey! Well… A donkey is a way of
putting it, well alright this might as well
be another secret. My words
weren´t meant to offend you, I want that clear. Because a donkey is mighty
useful on a farm when he doesn´t expect to be the peasant. Alright, I won´t
say a word further . We´ll keep it a secret. A secret in a loud voice. In a
loud voice! That´s it! That´s right it! You must understand that I can no
longer bear their voices. Please understand me Your Excellence! Their voices
follow me, they never die. They pretend they´re dead, but they deceive us… I
know they spit out blood and some of them even spit their brains out… But they
don´t die… They return from time to time… They come back to talk to me.
They don´t want me to forget. They´re like the drop of water that bears into a
rock. They always return to make me remember. That´s why I can remember all ,
each begging, each tear, each insult. The cries of horror, with name and
surname… The bravests’ wide eyes, begging for their mother… No, no, no... Don´t look at me like that… It´s just a way of putting it… I really
can’t remember anything . This job’s for blind , deaf and dumb people. I
want this to stay very clear,
I don´t know or remember anything! Not even about Alfonso, who was my
friend and whom I believe was taken away just because… Pause
I haven´t
said anything. That´s it, that I haven´t said anything throughout so many
years under service. I´ve always looked somewhere else and modestly, I think
that´s very worthy; since such as things are Your Excellence, everywhere you
go, you encounter a widow or a child with no father… No
matter where you go, there´s blood splashing around and I´m not saying wether
that´s right or wrong. That’s no problem of mine and
you know that I do nothing but do my work. The thing is I sometimes think
I should change occupations… No, it´s not that I dislike my duties, nor that
the pay isn’t enough… Gosh, it´s so pretty and also calm if you want to…
It’s just that the country appeals to me every now and then…
It’s probably because my brother and I were brought up in a country
house (on a ranch)… And like Ramon says: what sucks in when you’re a child
gets imprinted with fire… That’s why, maybe I could work on the land… I
don’t know… I´m just saying…it’s just an idea… perhaps, with Ramon…
No, it’s not that I dislike the village. Gosh, isn’t your bar so
beautiful…! And amusing, even though I’m not a customer, of course. But,
what would I go there for?, if this job doesn’t
allow me to have many friends, really. My life is my house and my work.
And how grateful I am to your Excellence for having secured me this job, due to
my mother’s requests, God keep her in His blessed glory. But the country
appeals to me. To work under the open sky. To dry the sweat on one’s brow and
smell of grass… You already
know… Villager’s whims… But then this is so… having spoken with the
respect this whole matter
duely deserves; because I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I’m just
thinking… Maybe if you could just hurry up the procedures for that job that
you’ve been promising me just a little … I’m a strong man… If I can turn
the tourniquet, then I can very well dig the land. On top of that, the
churchyard needs to be taken care of. There are lots of graves without crosses
or marks to distinguish them. Who
wants to have them distinguished? No, of course… I was saying just for the
sake of saying… What do I know about reds and anarquists! It’s that, like
I’ve told you, my brother and I were brought up in the country, and we’re
all a bit unpolished back there. We
don’t understand things that easily … you know. Back there even the dogs
have a grave with a wooden cross over it, that allows you to engrave the name of
the buried person with the use of a knife. But don’t pay me any attention
Sir, those are countryside habits. But they stick on you, like the
earth.. That’s the reason why everyone should be in his place, like Your
Excellence says…That’s why Sir, if you would just let me work in the
churchyard… Being a grave digger is
not a bad occupation. It’s like sowing men… Men who will come back later on
with other names, so that Your Excellence can again k… No… That’s not the
point and who am I to make a comment
on what Your Excellence will or will not do. What Your Excellence does will be
alright , because if it weren’t, Your Excellence would do elsewise. I’m only
saying that you would do me a big favour if you let me go and shovel the
earth… On the other hand it would be good to bring new blood over here. Well,
alright, I know that new blood is never scarce in this place;
I’m referring to the fact that we should renovate ourselves… No, it
isn’t that I think things are not alright like they are already . Who am I to
doubt on that which Your Excellence asserts?
If everything’s just perfect, I congratulate you; the thing is this job
has led me to neglect my family and that’s not correct. That’s what my
mother’s always taught us, me … and Ramon, my brother. You must
take care of your family like God commands and that is why I am quitting my job
today… well, Iwould very much like to quit… my job. As I’ve said, what’s
most important is taking care of my
family, Sir. It’s not possible to be unable to explain to my kid what his
father’s work is. I know it’s
no problem in the meantime, because he only cares for his
mother’s breast; but time
passes quickly. You know how quickly kids
grow up… I feel like it was
yesterday, Ramon
and I running across the country side! The kid will start asking things,
Sir… You know they don’t beat
around the bush… And I won’t have the courage to answer. What I
want to tell Your Excellence, by no reason intending you to get angry, it’s
that I’ve had quite enough with what happened to my friend, for you to be
asking me … ordering me – fucking son of a bitch- that I execute my
brother… No, no, no. It’s
not about family business. I know well that
God and my country are much more important things. There’s no doubt about
that. And I want this right clear: I am not to blame for my brother having stuck
his nose where it doesn’t belong. For him expressing whatever it is he thinks
without taking Your Excellence into consideration. I have nothing to do with all
that; and if his idea was to shout around that we’re starving to death, it’s
his idea. At home I’m not allowed to talk about it. It’s a secret too.
Besides , what’s the use of talking about it?, if everybody already knows. I
don’t talk about that nor about my friend. Who cares that Your Excellence’s
killed him! His kids will soon be thinking
about other things… Children are like that. They play, they run , they
get distracted… They think about other things… And if they spit on the floor
when Your Excellence goes by, there’s no harm in them. The thing is this dry
air has been drying their mouths
for some time. That’s the reason why I forbid them to mention the affair, in
my own house. And if my wife takes
him some flowers on Sundays it’s because my family are all devout Christians .
That’s it, very Christian. Don’t misunderstand me, of course we’re
Catholics. Because there’s nothing higher than the Highest, because if there
were someone higher, Your Excellence would be talking to Him directly. Or God to
His Excellence… well, I don’t know, what corresponds according to the case. That’s
why, I beg Your Excellence on God’s behalf , to excuse me today… that you
please today… I beg you , he’s my brother… And how can I put it… And…
And… And that I don’t care a shit for your
fucking mother!!! I’ve stained my mouth with shit and my hands with blood: but
today I’m saying it’s enough! Enough! And I swear to my mother that no one
shall move this tourniquet. No one! If
she’s taught me something is that you can’t betray your own blood. His
Excellence comes in, Pascual doesn’t notice him. |
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E-mail: Arobino@argentores.org.ar Espacio cedido por ARGENTORES |