Carmen Boullosa - Leaving Tabasco

“Around our way there were hardly any federal forces. There had been outbreaks of insurrection here and there, among people with nothing better to do than act the bully and go looting this and that. At the time of the Revolution that’s all the rebels were around here — bullies, and troublemakers, and good-for-nothings. They’d heard there was a revolution in progress, so they all jumped on the bandwagon and went crazy, without any idea of duty or fear or knowledge of how to organize, unlike the real revolutionaries who were jumping on and off trains, busily orchestrating an attack or the capture of a town or a victory, under leaders with grand ambitions and the great courage needed to achieve them. The rebels here went around killing one another. They didn’t need the federal forces to have enemies. They had plenty among themselves.

“One time when they came to the farm, their chief — though he didn’t look like much of a leader, a tall, redheaded, bony fellow, with a very pale complexion and a roguish look constantly on his face, as if he was laughing up his sleeve at the whole thing, and dressed in a style that boggles the imagination — that day he was wearing a nightdress with lace trimmings and hand-embroidered ribbons that I’d once seen an aunt of mine wearing — I don’t know whether she was from my father’s side or my mother’s — a sick woman, never well for two minutes together, but anyway, there he was in her nightie that he’d half torn to shreds, though he’d patched it here and there with the colored ribbons, and over the top of it he’d put the stole of some bishop, using the fringed ends to make phony epaulettes — well, this chief, as I was saying, was standing at the top of the steps, in front of the main door of the house, negotiating with my father for the price of our safety. We’d already agreed to certain things so that they wouldn’t touch us: first, not to fight them; second, to pay a ransom which kept getting bigger and bigger. They were throwing figures back and forth, along with banknotes and hard looks, and while this leader, as I was saying, was doing his negotiating, one of his mob laid hands on my sister Florinda. Mama let out a scream and Papa was informed immediately. So he took one of the bundles of banknotes in his hand, waved it in the face of the redheaded leader, and, with one of the matches he always carried in his pocket, set fire to it.

“‘I’d sooner burn my money,’ he said furiously, ‘before I’d give it to a man who breaks his word.’

“The redheaded chief answered with a disturbing laugh. He found everything funny.

“‘And who told you I don’t keep my word?’ he replied. ‘I’m so much bound by my word that I’ll keep it with regard to your women, even though you’ve broken yours.’

“‘Who told me!?’ glowered Papa, unable to see he was putting us all in danger. ‘Who told me! You, sir, have just heard that one of your men has had the temerity to lay a disrespectful hand on my daughters, and you can ask me that!’

“‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ answered the chief, still grinning. ‘Hey, bring that stupid girl-molester over here.’

“Immediately they brought over a dark-complexioned, filthy-looking ruffian who hadn’t combed his hair in decades.

“‘So it was you, our famous Refugio,’ said the chief. ‘What got into you, man? Hadn’t we agreed that we weren’t going to lay a finger on these nice young ladies and their mother?’ The ruffian nodded his head, almost without understanding a thing, a complete brute of a man, unable to figure out that two and two make more than three. ‘I want you to apologize to this gentleman, and tell him that if you did brush against his daughter, it was to get rid of a nasty spider that was crawling on her hair. Or where was it exactly that you touched her, eh?’

“The brute, who really didn’t look as if he could speak, pointed to his own buttocks.

“‘Oh, there! How horrible, to have an insect crawling there! Well, sir, this other insect will receive twelve lashes right now across his bare back, even though he was only removing a bug from your daughter’s person. That’s what he was doing. That’s why he dared to brush against the girl, not out of a lack of respect, but almost from an excess of courtesy. The lash! Bring me the lash! Off with your shirt, man!’

“The brute took off his shirt with a docility that was positively animal. Another of the men brought an enormous lash tricked out with sharp bits of metal that they’d found at God knows whose ranch. On our farm we didn’t beat our Indians with things like that. They tied him to the trunk of a kapok tree that grew by the main door of the house, to one side of the central stairway, with his arms over his head, and right there in front us the chief lashed him, not twelve but at least thirty times.

“Then he let the lash drop, went up the stairway, with his nightie even more tattered than before, one shoulder half out of it, and his curly hair all tousled and his face on fire with his efforts, and addressed Papa with a relaxed smile.

“‘There! I think that’ll do. I believe you’ve seen I’m a man of my word. And as I think you are as well, I’m going to make our deal a reality. Come here, young lady!’ he said to my sister Florinda. ‘Please stand on this stone.’

“On both sides of the stairway there were banisters of quarried stone which ended in a veranda with a pair of low stone columns. It was on one of these that he asked Florinda to stand.

“‘Now, you sir,’ he said to Papa, ‘are going to give no orders to your men. I swear to you that I’m going to show no disrespect to your daughter or do her any harm. I’m only going to give you a chance to recover your honor as a gentleman. Will you pass me one of your matches?’

“Papa passed him a match, and the box to light it, signaling to Florinda to do as the man said. She was dressed in a lovely white dress with a sort of apron of tulle in front. The guy took hold of the edge of the apron and set fire to it and let it fall against the dress. Immediately the dress caught fire from contact with the flames. Mama screamed. My grandmother, María del Mar, screamed even louder. My other sisters squealed like animals in pain. But I did something quite embarrassing: I started to laugh. The redheaded chief and I couldn’t contain our guffaws. Then he took the bishop’s stole from his chest and put out the flames on the dress with it, stifling them with the gilded embroidery.

“‘I’m afraid, dear sir, that I’ve had to take from your daughter what you sent up in flames. If I’m not mistaken, you burnt a quarter of the ransom you were offering. By your reckoning, that was the price of this girl’s safety, because right from the start you said you were paying me just for your daughters. Respect for the mother and the grandmother was a generous bonus my men and I were throwing in free.’ My father was deathly pale, scared out of his wits. ‘Forgive me if I contradict you, but I suspect that your lovely Florinda is worth a lot more than you were offering for her. By my reckoning what you were giving only covered a corner of her dress. And that’s what I burnt. Not one piece more. Do you agree with my calculations?’ Papa nodded his head. ‘So the next time I come through here, you’d better pay me the full price, because if you don’t I’ll only respect what you’re paying for. Let that be our gentlemen’s agreement, eh? Okay?’

“The mob had watched the burning of Florinda’s dress without uttering a sound. But the minute their chief stopped speaking, they started to shout, bellowing at the top of their lungs, and dashed into the house, while their musicians played drums and guitars as loud as they could from the garden. We remained on the terrace. Inside the house, a wild party was soon in progress. Night fell and they were still inside. Finally they came stumbling out, lighting their way with candles.