Horacio Castellanos Moya - Tyrant Memory

I had two surprises this afternoon. The first was a call from Angelita, Pericles’s first cousin; we console each other over our lack of news about Clemen and Jimmy. It was a normal conversation, chatting about this and that, until she asked me if I knew anything about plans for a protest march in support of political prisoners. She caught me off guard, but I managed to react appropriately: I said no, I had heard nothing about it, and I asked her to tell me what she had heard. She told me that a rumor had reached her, and she thought that since I was in the group of families of political prisoners who had met with the ambassador, I would know about it, and she said if she heard anything more she would call to let me know. I told her that so many political rumors are circulating one no longer knows what to believe.

The other surprise came in the evening at Mother’s house, where the Figueroas and my sister Cecilia were also visiting. They spoke excitedly about Luz María’s wedding, which will be held in a month at the cathedral in Santa Ana, and about the party afterward at the Casino Santaneco. Carlota showed me a sketch of the gown her daughter will wear and compared it to the one she wore and those Cecilia and I had worn at our respective weddings, and she complained that because of the war in Europe it is well-nigh impossible to order an exclusive design from Paris. She told me there’s been a disagreement in her family about the guest list, in the wake of the attempted coup and the executions, because Carlota’s mother’s family has always been involved in politics — her grandfather was once the president of the republic — and now several members of her family are repudiating the general and vow not to attend the wedding if old family friends who have remained loyal to the government are invited. I also found out that Nicolás Armando’s sons will be groomsmen, about how excited Cecilia is to make her grandchildren’s suits and attend the wedding rehearsals; I felt a stab in my heart to think what my poor grandchildren might suffer because of their foolish mother. Later, while I was in the kitchen making tea, Carlota came to tell me she is worried about Fabito, her eldest, who is studying medicine, and who has become deeply involved in organizing protests against the general, she fears he’ll be arrested at any moment. I told her how surprised I was, I knew nothing about Fabito’s political involvement, though I did not think it so odd considering the fact that the general has been attacking the medical society and medical students. But the conversation didn’t end there: very secretively, so nobody else would hear, Carlota revealed that Fabito was a member of a delegation of students who traveled to the hospital in San Miguel to meet with Dr. Romero and prepare a plan for his escape, he could speak with him in French (Fabio senior took Carlota and her children with him when he went to Paris for a residency) and that way outwit the two soldiers stationed in his hospital room, but Dr. Romero convinced him that the escape plan wasn’t viable, that it was, in fact, suicidal. I told her it was fortunate Fabito had escaped the sweep Chente and his fellow students had been caught up in. Then she told me that’s precisely her fear: Fabito is organizing a march next Sunday to protest the arrests of the students, and she’s afraid that this time he won’t escape, and they will take him straight to jail. It was a pity that at that moment Mama and Cecilia came into the kitchen, along with other friends who had just arrived, and we couldn’t continue talking.

I dined at Carmela and Chelón’s house. I told them about the plan for Sunday, how desperate we are because the general is still keeping us away from our family members at the Central Prison, that this protest march is a last resort to pressure the government. I asked Carmela to accompany me to ten o’clock Mass, though I made it clear I was not asking her to join the march, because I know that she and Chelón abstain from any political activity, but my best friend’s presence at church would bring me comfort and give me strength. She said she would, of course, she would be there. I said to Chelón teasingly that he was off the hook, for if Pericles found out that he had attended Mass, even to demand his release, he would never forgive the betrayal.

A while ago María Elena told me Betito has not been home since school let out. It seems he has something cooking with Henry and his other friends; I wouldn’t be surprised if they too were planning for Sunday, together with the university students. I will speak with him tomorrow morning early. With so much commotion, Doña Chayito’s appeal for prudence and secrecy will surely be to no avail.

Saturday April 22

An intense day, as if there had been electricity in the air. Seems like everybody and his brother knows about the march, though almost nobody speaks about it openly. Around mid-morning I ran into Mingo at the Americana drugstore. Irmita is doing very poorly; I promised to stop by to see her in the afternoon. Standing at the counter, while the pharmacist was filling our prescriptions, I was dying to ask Mingo if he had heard about the march, but I refrained. When we got outside, he beat me to it and told me under his breath that the university students were planning a protest against their classmates’ arrest, that the situation is very tense; he then told me the good news that yesterday the government finally gave Serafín safe passage to leave the country for exile in Guatemala, apparently the Americans applied strong pressure on them to grant him authorization, and on Monday he will leave under the protection of the Guatemalan consul. We agreed we’d continue our conversation when I stopped by his house in the afternoon.

Then I went to my parents’ house for a while. Father, Uncle Charlie, and Güicho Sol were drinking coffee on the patio; I joined them. I wanted to know if Father had heard about the march tomorrow. I didn’t even have to ask: Uncle Charlie spoke about the need to organize other forms of protest to remove the Nazi warlock, he said the university students are preparing a strike, and it would be best to support them, their idea is that everybody will join the strike until the general understands that nobody in this whole country wants him; Güicho disagreed with him, he said the warlock understands only the language of force, and what’s called for is another military uprising but this time led by officers who aren’t as stupid and cowardly as those who let the general prevail, and if such officers don’t appear the only choice will be for American troops to invade. My uncle insisted that the idea of a strike is not unreasonable, but Güicho replied that with a strike one runs not only the risk of it being infiltrated by communists but also of them taking over. Then Uncle Charlie asked what time it was. I told him it was ten to eleven. He asked me to please move my watch ahead ten minutes, he was desperate for a shot of whiskey, and he had made a solemn vow not to have his first drink until after eleven in the morning. That meant that I should stand up and go to the kitchen for the ice bucket, mineral water, and booze, because they were going to discuss men’s subjects, which would be inappropriate for me.

Don Leo was loitering about the kitchen, so I asked him to drive me to the Figueroas’ place. Mother asked if something was going on; I told her I just wanted to pick up the furniture catalogue Carlota still hadn’t returned, it would only take me a minute. I asked Juani to bring the drinks to the men on the patio. On the way to the Figueroas’, Don Leo brought me up-to-date on the war in Italy; he said the American troops are advancing relentlessly and soon they will liberate his village, he fears for his nephews who supported Mussolini and who will now take a beating, though he right away began to rant and rave against them, as he always does; he also predicted the Americans would occupy Rome within a few weeks. I noticed several policemen lurking around Carlota’s house, then I remembered that several government ministers live along these few blocks of Arce Street, including Dr. Ávila. Carlota was very anxious when she greeted me. She confirmed that the university students’ march to protest the arrests and executions will be held tomorrow morning, but she couldn’t tell me if they would also leave from El Calvario Church, as I suspect they will, because Fabito comes home only to sleep, he spends all his time plotting against the general and doesn’t tell Carlota anything, and that’s why she scolds him every chance she gets for devoting all his time to politics instead of concentrating on his medical studies. I asked Carlota if she will join the march to demand that they spare Dr. Romero’s life, for he is a good friend of the family; she answered that those are men’s problems and she hates politics, it brings nothing but misfortune, and she cannot imagine running through the streets with the police chasing after her, she would die of fear. Then I recommended she be prepared because Fabito could be arrested at any moment, and she would have to come to terms with the situation, as my neighbors and so many others have had to. Carlota made a face of despair, then whimpered that hopefully God would spare her from undergoing such a trial.