Tyrant Memory (22 page)

Chente came over in the afternoon; I thought his time in jail would
have dampened his enthusiasm, but he has again plunged head first into
organizing the strike. He said his fellow prisoners have also left jail even
more resolved to struggle against the tyrant. Today, he informed me, final-year
students who work as interns in the hospitals, legal assistants in the courts,
employees of the Ministry of Public Works, and assistants in dental clinics will
all go on strike. And he explained that he is part of the group responsible for
raising funds to help students who work in public sector offices who have gone
on strike and who have families to support. I offered to lend him a hand in
whatever way I could. Later, I went to my parents’ house; I explained the
situation to Father. He told me he believes it will not be difficult to find
honorable men who want to contribute to the strike fund to help defeat the
warlock as long as their names, of course, are never revealed.

When I arrived home, María Elena was waiting for me with the news
that Mila has let Ana go and begun to pack up the house, she will turn it over
to the owners next Friday so they won’t charge her for an additional month, and
she will move into her parents’ house. I felt wretched, as if the day had
suddenly been spoiled. But there is nothing I can do: that woman is driven by
the red-hot sin burning between her legs and nobody can stop her. What will
become of Clemen when he finds out? I told myself I must focus on the tasks at
hand and the memory of my meeting with my husband to avoid having bad thoughts.
Fortunately Carmela and Chelón came by for coffee a while later, to find out in
detail how Pericles is, what his living conditions are; they asked me if they
could come with me for a brief visit once the visits become regular, just to say
hello and have the pleasure of giving him a hug, without intruding for long on
our privacy. I told them they could, of course, but that I hope Pericles will be
freed before they allow regular visits. Then we spoke about the strike and I
showed them the leaflet Chente had given me; they had a different one, also a
typed carbon copy, more or less saying the same thing, calling on everybody to
stop cooperating in any way with the government, nobody should go to the movie
theaters the warlock owns, or buy lottery tickets, or pay local taxes. Both
leaflets call for a boycott of the government newspapers and a large show of
passive resistance, but the one Chente brought me asks everybody to always wear
a token of mourning as a way of showing that they condemn the executions. Chelón
commented that there doesn’t seem to be any sign of the government
re-authorizing the publication of opposition newspapers.

A short while ago, Betito told me he believes the high schools will
soon call a strike, today there was an intense discussion on the subject at his
school. I warned him not to use the excuse of a strike to miss classes if other
students are attending, the struggle against the general is serious and there’s
no excuse for taking advantage of it in order to party with his friends; I know
my sons all too well.

It has been an intense and gratifying day; to be with Pericles was
like a gift from heaven for which I am deeply grateful.

Thursday April 27

Once again, intimidation and violence! The general is
counterattacking rather than relenting. We were about to begin the novenas of
mourning for Lieutenant Marín when the National Guard troops burst into the
church. Doña Chayito had summoned me to attend: she said our presence was
important to show our solidarity with the family. I didn’t think twice about it.
But when I arrived I realized there was a big crowd, even Chente and Fabito were
milling around in the atrium, so I assumed this was an act of both solidarity
and denunciation. What I never thought possible was that the warlock would dare
to send his troops into the church with orders to evict us. He is sacrilegious,
an apostate. Fortunately, the boys saw them coming and took off in time to avoid
confrontations and arrests. I am still furious. This is the last straw.
Lieutenant Marín’s wife and his mother are both primary school teachers, and
they have decided to go on strike with the support of many of their
colleagues.

The day began with excellent good news. Mingo dropped by the house
to find out how Pericles is doing, and he took the opportunity to tell me that
the Americans have already firmly turned their backs on the general, yesterday
the ambassador rejected the government’s proposal for the United States to send
officers to reorganize the air force, which was virtually dismantled after the
attempted coup. “Such a rejection means they’ve lost all trust in the
government,” Mingo explained to me with great excitement. I went straight to
Father with the news. He told me he’d speak with Uncle Charlie to confirm. By
noon everybody had heard that “the man” is being left out in the cold.

Father dropped by in the evening to give me an envelope full of
money for me to give to Chente, so that the strike committee can distribute it
among those who need to support their families. I was amazed, surprised by the
speed with which he had collected so much money. He explained that the warlock
is digging his own grave, not when he executed the officers who had betrayed him
but rather when he sentenced Don Agustín, Dr. Pérez, and Dr. Romero to death. He
insisted I make it very clear to the students that they will never learn the
names of the donors and that there should be no receipts or any other
compromising paperwork. Minutes later I went to find Chente, but he wasn’t
there. I put the envelope away in my trunk and went to Mass.

As we were leaving church, under the strict surveillance of the
soldiers, our fear subdued by our outrage, Doña Chayito told me that the
government must know by now about the campaign to support the interns who have
gone on strike in the hospitals and government offices, because this morning
both government newspapers carried a furious tirade against them, and she said
that perhaps he ordered the Mass cancelled for the same reason, just so we
wouldn’t get our hopes up that his resolve was weakening. What one hand gives
the other takes away, as the saying goes.

A short while ago, just as I was about to go to my bedroom and María
Elena had already gone to hers, Chente came over. We discussed the warlock’s
wickedness, his apostasy. He asked after Betito; I told him he was out with his
friends but would return at any moment. I noticed he was nervous. I told him to
wait for me in the living room; I went to get the envelope full of money out of
the trunk, and I gave it to him. “What’s this?” he asked as he opened it with
amazement. “A contribution for the students who are on strike,” I said. His face
lit up; he was about to count the money, but I repeated the warning Father had
given me. Before leaving, he gave me a carbon copy of a new leaflet, which I
have here on my desk and looks like it was just written, which asks all to “pray
together for our humble, saintly, and beloved archbishop, who has been
repeatedly humiliated by the tyrant, a theosophist who does not believe in God
and works in devious ways to persecute the Catholic Church.” Betito came home
later; he claims that enthusiasm for the strike is growing everywhere. I told
him I would go visit his grandmother Licha in Cojutepeque tomorrow, and I would
take María Elena with me, and if he doesn’t want to eat lunch alone he should go
to my mother’s house. I repeated that he should be very careful.

Friday April 28

I was out of San Salvador for only ten hours, but when I
returned I had the feeling that much more time had passed. Betito greeted me
with the news that there were practically no classes at his school because most
of the professors were absent, and next week will be worse, he says, because the
entire teachers’ union will be on strike. Then I found out, at Raúl’s house,
that Dr. Romero is recovering and, if nothing changes, in one week they’ll
release him from the hospital and the general plans to execute him immediately;
Raúl said with absolute conviction that the Salvadoran Medical Association will
do everything possible to prevent his execution. Events are hurtling forward:
the students have formed committees to persuade diverse sectors to support the
strike, and people seem to be slowly losing their fear, so much so that Mother
told me that some of her friends are considering closing their shops starting
next week and keeping them closed until the warlock is gone. The government is
pulling out all the stops: Betito brought home a leaflet from a pretend
committee that supports the government, saying the strike is being promoted by
the wealthy who are outraged that the general has taken measures that benefit
the poor. He is not only criminal but also shameless.

And there I was, as if coming from another world, because I love
traveling by train; as soon as the engine whistles and the cars begin to clatter
along the tracks, I get swept away into memories of my youth and adolescence, a
sensation of idleness washes over me, as if the landscape rushing by were
lifting me out of reality. I was also coming from a different world because my
mother-in-law lives in her memories, talking to her is like climbing into an old
attic, or rather, opening a chest full of stories; she always pulls out a couple
of new anecdotes about Pericles, curious stories about his childhood and
adolescence. I greatly enjoyed my visit to the market with María Elena and
Petronila, my in-laws’ old servant, to buy
chorizos
,
cuajada
,
and
pepitoria
. The only thing I don’t like is eating lunch with the
colonel: the atmosphere is so silent, martial, like being in a mess hall with a
commander who doesn’t allow talking at mealtime; that’s where Pericles gets all
his manias. I noticed that in that city, merely one hour away from San Salvador
by train, one doesn’t feel any of the political agitation we experience here, as
if the struggle to depose the general had nothing to do with them. Only when I
spoke with Father Dionisio, the parish priest of Nuestra Señora del Carmen
Church, who dropped by in the afternoon to have a cup of coffee with my
mother-in-law, did I feel the excitement of the political situation. Father
Dionisio asked about Clemen, whom he has known since he was a child; I told him
I had no news. He crossed himself and muttered that he prays daily for the Lord
to keep him safe and sound; he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. My
mother-in-law gave me a basket of food for me to take to Pericles tomorrow. The
poor dear was sitting down most of the time because of her arthritis; it was
difficult for her to even take a few steps.

What really soured my mood upon my return, however, was to find two
suitcases and a few boxes of Clemen’s belongings, which Mila, taking advantage
of my absence, had brought over in the afternoon, and which Betito had moved
into what had been Pati’s bedroom, which I now use as a sewing room. Tomorrow I
will have to tell Pericles all about this, I wouldn’t want him to be released
one of these days soon and have his return spoiled by his sudden discovery of
Mila’s betrayal; better for him to know now, for he has said himself that in
jail all other problems seem “like when you take off your glasses and everything
shrinks.” Ana spent the night in María Elena’s room, for Mila has already moved
out, and she wouldn’t let her come stay at her parents’, so she just threw her
out in the street; they will both leave tomorrow early for their village. I have
prepared some gifts for Belka.

Saturday April 29

They might release Pericles at any moment. God heard my
prayers! Betito and I went this morning early to the Central Prison; there was a
throng of visitors because it was also visiting day for common criminals. I
don’t know if it was just my impression, because I am very susceptible to
suggestion, but there was something different in the air, as if people were
feeling more optimistic, less afraid. Doña Chayito said we should talk
afterward, many things are happening and she wanted to bring me up-to-date.
Carmela and Chelón joined us in the line going in. Pericles was very happy to
see them. Then Mingo arrived, and my brother-in-law, Toño, who came from
Cojutepeque. It was the first visit like in the old days, when my husband used
to be held in the Black Palace, in a room near the director. We drank coffee and
ate sweet breads (everybody brought food for Pericles), we gossiped, we laughed
at the latest jokes about the general and Doña Concha. My husband said that by
the time he gets out of jail he’ll have enough jokes and salacious stories to
fill a book. Carmela and Chelón were the first to leave; then Toño and Mingo
said they also had to go, but Pericles told the latter to stay with me for a few
minutes because he wanted to discuss something. Betito said goodbye to his
father and said he’d wait for me outside, using as an excuse that we were going
to discuss issues he had no business hearing, as if I hadn’t noticed his
interest in Leonor, Doña Julita’s daughter, while we were lining up to go in.
Pericles revealed that Dr. Ávila had visited him yesterday afternoon, Friday, to
make him a proposition: they will release him if he goes straight to Mexico and
establishes contact between “the man” and Don Vicente Lombardo Toledano, the
most influential workers’ leader in the Mexican government, a man Pericles
befriended during our years in exile. Dr. Ávila specified that this was just to
test the waters, an initiative of his ministry, but now that the general is
interested in promoting social programs to improve the lives of the poor, he may
well be receptive to considering an initiative that would establish a closer
relationship with the experience of the Mexican revolution, and Pericles would
be the right person to do it. “What did you say?” Mingo asked him, looking quite
surprised. “I said I have no desire to go from being a prisoner to being a
messenger boy in exile, that if they wish to establish contact with Vicente,
they have an ambassador, and that’s what he gets paid for,” he said. He then
made it clear to Dr. Ávila that they should free him immediately, for there has
been no crime and no trial, only an arbitrary arrest, and that once he returns
to being an ordinary citizen, with rights and legal guarantees, he would be
willing to listen, in the living room of his own home, to the government’s
social plans and any reasonable request they make of him. “What did he say?” I
asked, because Don Ramón is quite sensible and I know he is fond of us. “What
could he say, he doesn’t make the decisions . . . ?” he answered in that
typically derisive tone he uses when his meaner self overrides his intelligence.
But I am hopeful that Dr. Ávila’s gesture is a sign that my husband will soon
return home. What leaves no room for doubt, Pericles added, “is that they’re up
to their eyes in you-know-what now that the gringos have thrown them overboard,”
and for the first time he has the impression that “the man” is going down a
blind alley. Mingo was perplexed by the news; he muttered that not only was he
being abandoned by the gringos, but he also had all the bankers and coffee
growers against him, the students and teachers were on strike, and the medical
society would be applying strong pressure starting next Tuesday for him to
decree an amnesty to prevent the execution of Dr. Romero. Pericles asked after
Don Jorge’s health. Mingo said he was with him yesterday at the Polyclinic, Don
Jorge is out of mortal danger, but nobody knows for certain how fully he will
recover; then he looked at his watch, he said time was flying, there were only
ten minutes left to visit, he would leave us alone and wait for me outside so he
could accompany me home. I told him not to worry, I had already arranged to meet
some friends on my way out. Then I mustered my courage and without any preambles
I told Pericles, in a very low voice, that Mila had moved out of her house and
intends to divorce Clemen and is the lover of Colonel Castillo, the prosecutor
of the Military Court that sentenced my son to death. While I was tripping over
my tongue trying to tell the story, I felt terribly anxious, as if I were to
blame for what had happened, but once I’d finished, as Pericles screwed his face
into a look of disgust, I suddenly felt lighter, as if a heavy burden had been
lifted. I told him I thought it better that he knew now so as to avoid spoiling
his return home. He asked after our grandchildren; he asked if Pati, the
colonel, or Mama Licha knew. Then, chewing on his words as if he were going to
spit them out, he simply said, “Every cloud has a silver lining.” As we said
goodbye I had this feeling I still carry with me, that we would soon be together
again.