Tyrant Memory (24 page)

“Here’s the mangrove I was looking for . . .”

“What for? What are you doing?”

“Me, nothing . . . You see that thick branch on your right?”

“Uh-huh . . .”

“Climb onto it!”

“You’re crazy!”

“Climb onto that branch right now, or I’ll bash your head in with
this oar!”

“You’ve gone mad, Jimmy! Calm down!”

“Climb onto the fucking branch, you bastard!

“You’re hitting me, Jimmy!?”

“I’m going to smash you to pieces, you sonofabitch, climb onto it
now!”

“Why do you want me to climb onto it?!”

“Now!”

“Stop hitting me, you crazy bastard!”

“That’s it! Good! Up a tree, you bastard!

“You’ve gone crazy . . .”

“You are going to stay right there . . .”

“What are you saying?! Have you lost your mind?!”

“There, now you won’t bother anybody.”

“Come back, Jimmy! Don’t leave me here!”

“I’ll come back tomorrow with Mono Harris to get you . . .”

“Jimmy! Don’t be so mean! Come back! I beg you! Jimmy . . . !”

6:15 a.m.

“All these canals look alike . . .”

“Jimmy, are you sure we’re going in the right direction?”

“I hope so. We’ve got to take advantage of this early morning
light.”

“We’ve been going around in circles for half an hour, and I don’t
see we’ve gotten anywhere. Just more mangroves . . .”

“That’s what I said, they all look alike.”

“I remember when Mono Harris brought us here from near San Nicolás,
it took about twenty minutes.”

“Because the motorboat was towing the canoe.”

“You’re right . . .”

“That’s why I think we’ll get out of this bay soon.”

“I hope, because the sun is rising . . . My mouth is dry.”

“Mine is, too. And rowing is making me even thirstier.”

“You want me to help row?”

“No. We’ll be out of here in no time . . .”

“Listen to my guts churning from hunger.”

“Must be here to the right . . .”

“Everything looks the same to me, Jimmy. How will Mono Harris find
his way?”

“He said he knows it by heart, and if he didn’t he’d get lost, he
said even some fishermen prefer not go into these swamps because they’re afraid
of getting lost, they say they’re haunted . . .”

“I thought he was just boasting to scare us.”

“Now this way . . .”

“I don’t see any way out, Jimmy. It all looks the same. Mangroves
and more mangroves.”

“I’m even starting to worry now.”

“We should have made some exploratory outings a few days ago.”

“Mono Harris warned us not to budge from that canal or we’d get
hopelessly lost. That’s why we didn’t.”

“Isn’t this the canal we were in for ten days?”

“What are you talking about . . .”

“I’m sure it is, Jimmy!”

“You’re kidding. It can’t be . . .”

“Bring us around to this side!”

“It looks different to me.”

“Because the tide has risen . . . Come up close . . . That’s the
tree you left me on!”

“How do you recognize it?”

“Because you left me there for more than an hour, you bastard . . .
The worst hour of my life.”

“But it was night, it was dark, how can you possibly recognize it
now?”

“Here, underneath, look, level with the water . . .”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“No. I pulled off those twigs and shoots so I could lean against the
trunk!”

“I don’t see anything . . .”

“Right here: look carefully! That part’s underwater now! This is the
mangrove! We’ve gone in a circle, Jimmy! We’re right back where we started!”

“It can’t be!”

“But it is! What are we going to do now?”

“We’re going to try again.”

“We’re lost! We’re in a labyrinth!”

“It’s okay, we’ll get out of here . . .”

“How?!”

“You row now . . . Maybe that’s why I got lost . . . I was rowing so
I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“Let me sit there . . . Give me the oar.”

“Don’t capsize us, Clemen, or we’ll really be lost . . .”

“Not a chance in the world.”

“With you rowing, I’ll be able to focus better, try to remember how
we got here with Mono Harris . . . Go this way . . .”

“Okay. How do you change direction?”

“You move the oar that way . . . That’s right . . .”

“It’s hard.”

“Come on.”

“. . .”

“. . .”

“My hands are burning, Jimmy. I’m going to get blisters.”

“You really are useless.”

“I don’t see that we’re getting anywhere.”

“Let me row . . . My turn . . .”

“Now what?”

“We keep trying. We’ve got no choice.”

“I’m dying of thirst, Jimmy . . .”

“Try not to think about it . . .”

“How can I not think about being thirsty?! My throat is so dry. The
sun is already up. If we don’t get out of this labyrinth soon, we’re going to
die of sunstroke and dehydration!”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s the truth!”

“I’m also extremely thirsty. Let’s rest for a while in the shade.
The worst thing is for us to get desperate.”

“All these mangrove trees look alike.”

“They look alike to us, but they aren’t all alike.”

“I hate being here! This is like a nightmare, Jimmy!”

“It is a nightmare.”

“We have such bad luck!”

“I wish we could wake up . . .”

“We’ve been wandering around now for about two hours in these canals
and we haven’t seen a trace of a fisherman. Nothing, zilch . . .”

“We can’t lose faith.”

“There’s not even a current, look . . . The boat barely sways.”

“Maybe the tide is changing, maybe it’s peaked and soon it will
start going down.”

“We’re worse off than we were before, Jimmy: even if we do manage to
get out of the swamp, we won’t be where Mono Harris will look for us when he
gets back!”

“I know. You don’t have to shout at me!”

“I’m not shouting!”

“You’re letting despair get the better of you, Clemen . . . Calm
down.”

“We managed to escape from that motherfucking general of yours just
to come here and die like this! I can’t believe it!”

“Calm down, already! If you get desperate and keep shouting, you’re
going to get even thirstier . . . At least we’re out of the sun here . . .”

“We should try to go back to the canal where we were, Jimmy, where
Mono Harris left us . . .”

“Right now we need to conserve our energy. Not start rowing like
crazy.”

“You think Mono Harris will come?”

“He’s got a motor on his boat. We’ll hear him if he comes anywhere
near.”

“You’re right.”

“And if he doesn’t find us in the canal, he’ll look everywhere in
the swamp for us.”

“God willing.”

9:12 a.m.

“Hey, Jimmy!”

“What? What happened?”

“We fell asleep.”

“We did.”

“How long has it been, you think?”

“Let’s see . . .”

“The sun is pretty high.”

“It’s about ten.”

“I think it’s past eleven, Jimmy. I’m so hot.”

“No, it’s not that late.”

“Damn, this thirst is unbearable!”

“Look where we are . . . The current has carried us, Clemen.”

“That’s why I woke up, the sun was blasting me in the
face.”

“Are we in the same canal?”

“I see the same mangroves everywhere . . .”

“I’ll row into the shade . . .”

“I feel kind of dizzy, Jimmy.”

“It’s the sun. It was more on you than me. Good thing you woke up.
Otherwise, you’d have gotten sunstroke.”

“The water is twinkling.”

“We’re in the shade now. You’ll feel better here.”

“Where are we?”

“I have the feeling there’s a way out of this swamp close by, just
around the corner, but we’ve just had bad luck.”

“I need some water, Jimmy. Really. I’m feeling terrible . . .”

“I’m going to try once more . . .”

“What?”

“To find a way out . . .”

“You’ve still got energy to row? . . . I can’t.”

“We’ve got to make the effort . . . Anyway, we should take advantage
of the current. It’ll have to carry us out to sea . . .”

“Let’s stay under the trees, Jimmy, out of the sun.”

“It’s impossible. Look . . . Some are too low, the branches touch
the water . . . We’ll have to go down the middle of the canal.”

“Shh . . .”

“What?”

“You hear?”

“What?”

“Stop rowing and be quiet . . .”

“. . .”

“It’s a buzzing, Jimmy! It’s a motorboat!”

“I don’t hear anything . . .”

“Yes! I hear it perfectly!”

“You’re hallucinating, Clemen . . .”

“No, I’m not hallucinating! . . . Listen! . . . It’s a motor! . . .
It’s Mono Harris! . . .”

“Where?”

“Over there! It’s getting closer!”

“You’re right! I hear it now!”

“Row that way, Jimmy, so he doesn’t miss us! . . . It’s Mono Harris!
We’re saved!”

“I hear it on the other side! . . .”

“Don’t be a fool! It’s over there, Jimmy! Row over there!”

Haydée’s Diary

Tuesday May 2

Two nights without writing and so much to tell.
Yesterday, the government issued an arrest warrant for Chente and some other
university students; fortunately, they were forewarned and there were no
arrests. They are in hiding; according to Raúl, only the leaders of the Student
Strike Committee know their whereabouts. He also explained that the general made
the announcement in order to intimidate anybody who might want to commemorate
the one-month anniversary of the armed uprising. Raúl is deeply committed to the
medical society strike. This afternoon he attended a meeting of doctors called
by the director of Rosales Hospital at which they drafted a resolution calling
on the government to commute all death sentences and decree a general amnesty
for political prisoners. Raúl says the doctors are united and determined, and if
the general fails to respond they will halt medical services in San Salvador and
will not allow the warlock to execute Dr. Romero. I asked him if this measure
would also affect the Polyclinic, or only the public hospitals, and what would
happen in cases such as Don Jorge’s; he told me the strike would be general, but
that patients in intensive care units would continue to receive medical
attention. Poor Rosita is beside herself: again and again she asks herself what
she did wrong that her son and her husband make her suffer so, as if it were
their fault and not the warlock’s. I’ve tried to reason with her, explain that
each of them is acting in accordance with the dictates of his own conscience,
that now is the moment for us all to take risks to force that cruel man to leave
the country and let us live in peace.

A whole detachment of policemen is in front of our house keeping
surveillance on us. I fear they will arrest Betito; I’ve asked him to be very
careful. Mother has suggested he stay at their house until the situation returns
to normal; Betito has said he doesn’t want to leave me alone. Don Leo came by
with the car this morning to drive him to school and brought him back in the
afternoon, along with the news that as of tomorrow classes are cancelled until
further notice. Betito said he and his classmates will spend all their time
working to support the strike; there’s nothing I can do to stop him. Last night
I realized that Chente’s disappearance has left me without a direct link to the
university movement, and that it’s imperative I find a way to safely funnel the
funds Father collects to the strikers. Raúl told me he would communicate my
concern to the students so they can designate someone. I called Doña Chayito but
didn’t find her. This morning I went to the Figueroas’; Fabito doesn’t appear on
the list of students on the arrest order, and I thought I might find him at
home. No luck. Carlota promised me she would tell her son I was looking for him,
though she warned me that sometimes Fabito doesn’t even come home to sleep, he
is always running around, working on organizing the strike. I was surprised that
Carlota as well as Luz María are now quite receptive to the struggle against the
general, the latter even admitting to me that she and her friends are forming a
group to visit their friends and persuade them to close their shops when the
strike is called. Carlota assured me her husband also supports the ultimatum the
medical society gave the general, and he will do everything possible to stop the
general from executing Dr. Romero, her gynecologist.

I told my parents about Dr. Ávila’s offer to Pericles. Father said
my husband did the right thing to refuse; Mother called Doña Tina yesterday to
wheedle information out of her, but she didn’t seem to know anything about it. I
haven’t wanted to get involved because Pericles would never forgive me, though
I’ve been chomping at the bit to call Don Ramón. My visiting day at the Central
Prison is supposed to be Saturday; I have tried and failed to get in touch with
Colonel Palma to get him to authorize a visit before then, that way I can find
out if any other member of the government had gotten in touch with my husband or
if Dr. Ávila has returned. I would like to discuss with my in-laws the offer he
made to Pericles, but I would have to go all the way to Cojutepeque — it’s too
dangerous to talk about it over the phone.

This afternoon I stopped by Hispania stationers to look for a
beautiful notebook, one similar to my diary from Brussels, but I had no luck:
there were several for schoolchildren, not convenient to write in. I asked Don
Sebastián if by chance he had any notebooks in his storeroom; he said everything
he had was on display. He asked after Pericles, his favorite client, as he calls
him, because my husband is a fanatic about paper, pens, and ink; I told him
about my visits to the Central Prison, about how arbitrary the authorities are
acting, about my despair and my hope. Then I asked him what he thought about the
strike as a way of forcing the general to step down, if he will support the
effort and close his shop. He answered that he fears reprisals from the
government, but if all the shops on the block close, he will also, and he’ll
join the strike. I bought this notebook, the one I’m writing in now, which is
fairly ordinary, on the condition that in his next order he get me a diary as
lovely as the one I bought in Brussels.

Don Sebastián’s stationers is located on the same block as the
Estradas’ notions store. I took the opportunity to go and talk to Carolina. She
told me the same thing as her neighbor: she would close her shop if the others
did, because if everyone doesn’t do it at the same time it will get them in
trouble with the general and they’ll lose money, all for nothing. She’s right. I
decided to tell her that the students have probably already decided on the date
to start the strike, and that hopefully they will let us know soon. I took Don
Sergio’s taxi at the Plaza Morazán; I asked him his opinion about the strike,
but that man is as silent as a tomb, the very soul of discretion.

I went to my parents’ house after dinner. I asked Father about the
strike date. He told me the students had wanted businesses to start shutting
down yesterday, but business owners have asked for a little more time to
prepare, so most likely the work stoppage will begin on Friday, though meetings
are still being held with representatives of the associations and the guilds,
especially with small businessmen, who are the most cautious, and among them,
the Chinese and the Turks, who are afraid the general will throw them out of the
country. The signal of the beginning of the strike will be the closing of the
banks, Father said, and the biggest challenge will be to paralyze all public
transportation, bring all trains, streetcars, buses, and taxis to a standstill.
I told him that because of the warrant for Chente’s arrest, I have been left
with no contact in the student movement, so I have no way to collaborate or get
them funds, should the need arise. Father told me not to worry, the shop owners
and the students are well connected, and I needn’t take risks, I should focus on
convincing all my acquaintances to close their shops when the moment arrives;
then he went to meet with his friends. I stayed a while longer talking with
Mother, who told me how outraged she was yesterday, on the road to Santa Tecla,
when she saw Mila riding in a car driven by a man she thought must be that
Colonel Castillo. I frowned, but said nothing. I have no reason to allow my life
to be embittered by that woman any longer. If the strike is successful, and the
warlock and his minions are forced to leave, I will be satisfied — if and only
if, of course, nothing happens to Clemens and Pericles.

As I write, a little before eleven at night, I wait for Betito, with
fear and uneasiness, for although the curfew has been lifted, policemen and
soldiers are swarming in the streets. I will scold him, for his own good,
because under these circumstances, at his age and with his enthusiasm, if I give
him an inch he will take a mile.

Wednesday May 3

Events are hurtling forward. A few minutes ago I got back
from the Alvarados’. Raúl was in the living room with two other doctors; they
were drinking whiskey and talking, fiercely indignant. I recognized Dr. Salazar.
The other was Dr. Luis Macías, until a few hours ago the director of Rosales
Hospital and the head of the delegation that met with the general this afternoon
to give him the memorandum demanding he rescind the death sentences and declare
a general amnesty. Poor Dr. Macías was quite upset: he was going from the
fiercest indignation to terrible shame, from nervous laughter to horror, with
astounding ease. He told me what happened at the Presidential Palace: the
warlock made them wait for an hour, then he received them, coldly, in his
office, told them to remain standing and silent; he took from his desk drawer
the memorandum they had given a few minutes earlier to his private secretary
and, without uttering a word, picked it up gingerly as if it were filthy, lit a
match to it, and threw it on the ground in front of them. “Treason, gentlemen,
does not go unpunished in this country,” he said in a threatening voice.
“Cowards cannot set conditions for my government, and if you fail to carry out
your oaths as doctors, you will pay the price,” he warned them before ordering
them to leave and without letting them utter a single word. By the time they got
outside, they were trembling, one was on the verge of passing out, and Dr.
Macías decided to resign immediately his position as director of the hospital,
because after the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the warlock, he
doesn’t feel worthy of leading the doctors in the strike that will be declared
any minute now. Raúl and Dr. Salazar insisted he shouldn’t resign, but I
understand his reasons, and his actions seem courageous to me, which is what I
told him.

The whole day has been hectic, starting early this morning. While I
was eating breakfast I suddenly remembered that tomorrow is Carmela’s birthday;
with all my running around I’d completely forgotten. Neither Carmela nor Chelón
likes parties, they prefer to celebrate their birthdays privately, have a simple
meal, but Pericles and I always arrive in the evening with a cake and a gift. I
went to the Bonets’ patisserie to order a special chocolate cake with walnuts.
Montse waited on me; she told me to come pick it up in the afternoon because
she’d heard that the strike will start tomorrow or Friday, and they are not
going to open the patisserie. Then I went quickly to La Dalia department store:
I bought a lovely brocaded handkerchief for Carmela; Don Pedro told me he’s
heard rumors that the warlock plans to execute Dr. Romero on Friday at dawn, he
said he will close his store starting tomorrow, it simply isn’t possible to
allow that evil man to continue to execute decent people whenever he feels like
it. When I returned home, I quickly called the beauty salon; I don’t want to
look like a fright for Carmela’s birthday or for my visit to Pericles. Silvia
said she’ll be open tomorrow, and she’ll expect me in the morning.

Luz María left a message for me with María Elena: I should stop by
her house at two for a cup of coffee so she could show me some sample wedding
invitations. I guessed this was about Fabito, because the invitations are
already finished. I was right: I talked to Fabito for five minutes because he
was in a rush. He told me I should give any funds I collect for the strike to
Luz María, she is the safest channel and will always know how to get in touch
with him. I asked him about Chente; he told me he is fine, but he couldn’t give
me any details. And as to the date the strike would begin, he emphasized that
the time had come, there was no reason to wait any longer, they (the students)
have already been on strike for a week, and the goal is to create a snowball
effect. Then he left. Luz María, who was never the sharpest knife in the drawer,
asked what he meant by “a snowball effect”; then she told me — after warning me
it was a secret I shouldn’t repeat to anybody — that Fabito is the treasurer of
the Student Strike Committee and, according to him, financial support is flowing
in generously from all sides.

Doña Chayito came over before dinner with the news that the movie
theater employees have already gone out on strike, and they will be closed as of
today; she gave me a copy of the communiqué with this announcement and demands
for the government to declare a general amnesty. Most of these theaters belong
to the general and his family; it will undoubtedly be particularly hurtful that
his own employees have been the first to go on strike. Doña Chayito was, as
always, her energetic self and expressed confidence that the strike will force
the warlock to step down and then our family members will be set free. She
expressed regret, however, that the movie houses were closing because — she
spoke in an undertone and gave me a wink — sensitive meetings were held in those
dark theaters. According to her, the general strike will start tomorrow. And she
invited me to a Mass that will be held on Friday at El Rosario Church for the
peace of the souls executed by the general.

This is the second consecutive night I finish writing in this
notebook and Betito still hasn’t arrived. He didn’t even come home for lunch: he
called to say he was at Henry’s and would have dinner at Flaco’s. I don’t like
quarrelling with him over the phone. While we were eating breakfast I asked him
to be very careful, to come home for meals and early at night, but my warnings
went in one ear and out the other. I asked María Elena if she knew anything
about his activities, for I spent a good part of the day out of the house; she
said he hadn’t returned since he left in the morning. Right now I have to think
of the best way to confront him, try to figure out what Pericles would do in
this situation.

María Elena regretted not being able to taste the cake; I also would
have liked to have a piece to sweeten the wait for Betito. We both love
chocolate, but María Elena collects recipes and asks me to buy ingredients for
baking. A few months ago she told me she’d love to work as an apprentice a few
hours a week at the Bonets’, if I could ask Montse if that were possible, but
with all this turmoil, I simply haven’t had a chance. I admire her efforts to
better herself. God willing, Belka, my lovely little girl, will inherit this and
other virtues.