Carlos Gamerro - The Adventure of the Busts of Eva Perón

‘Miguel!’ Paddy said with pleasant surprise. ‘How’s it going?’

He made to embrace him, but Miguel held out his hand coldly, ignoring the one Marroné had politely extended in his direction.

‘What’s all this, Colorado?’ he said to Paddy.

‘This? It’s the people in power!’

‘But Colorado… I waltzed in through the front gate like I owned the place. No one to stop me. Your security… it’s a mess! Haven’t you seen the pigs outside?’

Paddy gestured at the factory gardens, which looked like a public promenade on a bank holiday. The thunderous thudding of the helicopter overhead again drowned out part of his reply, ‘… enough people power!’

Marroné still stood beside them, biding his time. Only then did the newcomer seem to notice his presence.

‘And who’s this?’

‘I thought you people had sent him,’ answered Paddy, looking at Marroné with dawning perplexity.

The time had come to seize the initiative.

‘Ernesto,’ was all he said, having been aware for some time now that guerrilla leaders never gave their surnames, and, with his best How-to-Win-Friends smile, held out his right hand again, this time right in the face of the ill-mannered Miguel, who had no option but to shake it. He even responded by cracking a tense smile.

‘Ah, yes. A pleasure, comrade. Heard a lot about you. You saved the occupation in injury time. You’re from the North Column, aren’t you?’

Marroné’s own house being in Olivos and his parents’ in Vicente López, he felt authorised to answer in the affirmative. Ah well, in for a penny… Miguel turned back to Paddy, his tone and facial expression hardening perceptibly.

‘Well, Colorado, for a start you can tell your happy people to up and leave right now. The party’s over.’

‘But…’

‘Are you questioning a direct order?’

Marroné watched the colour rise to Paddy’s neck and cheeks. He had seen him like this at school when some master or other was giving him a mouthful. The newcomer’s high-handedness made Marroné smile to himself. At school no one could keep Paddy down. How much less now that he had the whole of the people behind him.

‘No,’ said Paddy, bowing his head.

Marroné was dumbfounded. He was in the presence of something unheard of, or at least beyond his ken. Paddy taking orders, meekly and obediently.

‘Maybe I’m wrong, you tell me. You reckon there’s a lot to celebrate? You liberated a factory, true… but 99.9 per cent are still in the hands of the capitalists and the bureaucracy. And by making the workers owners of the company, you’re actually deproletarianising them… giving them a taste for capitalism. A typical liberal, petit bourgeois deviation, and proof that the proletarianisation process in you is only skin-deep… Scratch your surface a bit and all that good old English education shines through. You’ve been fraternising with the unions too long, Colorado. Our organisation does not pander to trade unions: it dictates to them. We can’t afford to fight for the workers’ creature comforts in this one and then let them go all bourgeois on us: they have to be toughened up and made ready to seize power. We’re not asking for soap for the toilets any more; we’re making the Revolution not just for the happy few,’ he said, taking in the motley throng with a sweep of his hand, ‘but for everyone. So now, if you haven’t got the balls for the Revolution, just let us know and we’ll sort it out no sweat, because there are hundreds of comrades willing to lay down their lives in your place. A strike’s no laughing matter, Colorado. As long as there’s a single Argentine that suffers, it’s our duty to suffer with them. What are you celebrating here? The fact that, while you’re stuffing your faces, the underfed minors working in the Tucumán sugar mills are starving to death? Or that you’re getting pissed here while our comrades fighting in the mountains are drinking their own, just like they had to in Che’s column?’

Paddy made the most of the pause to collect his scattered thoughts.

‘The strike, the occupation, the recovery… it was decided by all of us, in assembly. We should hold another one if we’re going to suspend the celebrations. And I don’t think the vote will go in our favour…’ he countered. ‘Me, I don’t give orders to anyone here.’

‘I know, Colorado. I do. Look,’ he said, resting one hand on Paddy’s shoulder, who tensed visibly as if someone had just jabbed him with an awl. ‘I know that at the end of the day you’ve done important work here. Even your deviations weren’t the product of bad intentions. So I’ll make an exception and let you in on a couple of things. If Ernesto agrees, that is.’

Marroné nodded and acknowledged the courtesy with a curt smile.

‘The leadership has something big up its sleeve… First, we’re going to get the union back… You know what I’m talking about. Babirusa’s one block we can’t afford to stumble over again, you know that better than me… Meanwhile, mingling with all these lovely citizens strolling in through the gates you so generously left open, the big cheeses from the union are wandering around taking notes on the means of access, the cracks in the defence and the folk they’re going to whack — with you top of the list. That’s one reason to wrap this carnival up: it’s a serious breach of security. Easily fixed though. I’ve sent for our people; they’ll be here before nightfall. But your liberal antics have called for a stronger remedy. I’m relieving you of your duties, Colorado. You’re being moved to the military front. That way you’ll still be fighting for all of… them.’ He gestured vaguely towards the factory building. ‘Just in a different arena. Look on it as a promotion if you like. We have to move forward, Colorado, take the leap to the next stage. The days of the specialist cadre are over; what we’re looking for now are all-rounders who’ll tackle anything we throw at them. Every militant has to be a soldier prepared to lay down his or her life.’

Marroné was about to chip in with a helpful quote from The Corporate Samurai , but thought better of it, as it might give him away. Paddy frowned, more concerned now than annoyed, until in the end he ventured to ask:

‘You’re going to whack Babirusa. And you want me in on it.’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘No… But… Is it necessary? We’ll wipe the floor with them at the elections. Just look at all this.’

‘I have. You said the same thing last time. And two days before the election Babirusa got into bed with the management and they fired all the comrades on the rival list. Babirusa’s a traitor to the workers’ cause. And he has the blood of several of your comrades on his hands, in case you’d forgotten.’

Paddy had starting to fume again.

‘Course I haven’t forgotten. Are you suggesting…’

‘I never suggest; I say. So? You’re scared?’

‘No, Miguel. It’s just that your way we erase all differences. Even if that traitor Babirusa bags the elections with fraud — or with blood — he’ll still be branded a traitor. But if we whack him, what does that prove? You can whack anyone, makes no difference if it’s Tosco or Vandor.’

‘See what a petty petit bourgeois you are? All we need now is for you to start carrying on about the sacred value of human life. Know what, Colorado? In case you hadn’t heard, our objective here isn’t to end up moral champions, but to make the Revolution. The Revolution isn’t for the faint-hearted, in case you didn’t know. Now, let’s get the job done because I’m starting to get a bit pissed off. We’ll have tea and scones together another day if you want to go on talking. Right, you’ve a five-o’clock appointment on the last bench at the station, downtown platform. Meanwhile we’ll pull the plug on this little shindig. Coming, Ernesto? People still don’t know me around here, so I’ll leave the talking to you.’