Horacio Castellanos Moya - Tyrant Memory

Now, as I finish describing the events of the morning, I already feel better, thanks to Mother letting me sleep uninterrupted until late this afternoon. Don Leo then brought me home. We dined with Raúl and Rosita. We are all quite discouraged, fearful, anticipating news about the war council that reconvened at seven o’clock tonight. I don’t think we’ll hear anything until early tomorrow morning, but it seems quite certain that evil warlock will order the execution of more young officers. I must give thanks to our Lord that they haven’t captured Clemen, and ask Him to keep protecting him.

Monday April 24

They executed them by firing squad at seven this morning in the General Cemetery: Captain Gavidia, Merceditas’s husband, another captain named Piche, and Lieutenant Marín, the brother of Víctor Manuel, the young man from the Tax Collectors’ Office whom they had so savagely tortured, the only civilian they’ve executed so far. I feel like there is a pendulum swinging back and forth in my chest, taking me from the bleakest desolation to outraged anger, back and forth, and back and forth. The university students have gone on strike to protest the executions. Raúl confirmed it: the university will remain closed; he also said that final-year medical and engineering students who volunteer at hospitals and government officers will soon go out on strike. Rosita is suffering from nervous depression, she is convinced the general will execute all political prisoners, including Chente.

Doña Chayito came by the house before lunchtime; as always, she was in a rush and didn’t want to stay to eat, having only a glass of fruit drink. She had just come from Merceditas’ house: the captain’s body has been prepared and the wake will be held there, at the family home, so as to avoid trouble for any funeral parlor, she explained. I told her I would go there later in the afternoon and could remain all night to keep them company, if necessary. Doña Chayito also told me she had just spoken to some leaders of the university movement: they have decided that it is impossible to confront the beast on the streets, we just saw he wouldn’t have any qualms about killing all of us; the idea now is to organize a general strike, shut down businesses, offices, hospitals, schools; halt all public transportation and trains; make sure everyone stays home and the country remains at a standstill until the warlock leaves. “Where will we get the courage to do nothing?” I muttered, as if to myself, faintly. Doña Chayito asked me what I meant. I told her people need to work, earn their daily bread, only single young people without families to support can go on strike like that. Doña Chayito kept looking at me, pensively: “That’s exactly what I argued,” she said. She then added that we must do something immediately to stop the warlock from executing Dr. Romero and force him to release our family members, or at least allow us to visit them, as is our right.

I went to the beauty salon this afternoon. I felt like something the cat dragged in, and I didn’t want to show up at the wake looking like that; it’s enough to have one’s spirits so low they’re sinking through the floor but one must, at least, keep up appearances. When I entered the salon, Angelita was lying in the chair; Silvia was finishing up combing her hair. Not realizing I had entered, she was talking contemptuously about the general digging his own grave, about the Americans being furious at him, how President Roosevelt will personally give orders to have him dragged out by the scruff of his neck, how in the world did he dare execute those young men, Captains Piche and Gavidia, Jimmy’s classmates, Piche considered the best artilleryman in the army, the United States having invested a cartload of money in their training. When she saw me, she didn’t flinch, but her anger seemed stronger than her prudence, and she asked me if I was going to go to the wake. I told her I was. Then Silvia asked if it was true that Dr. Romero is going to be the next one to face the firing squad. “God help us,” I murmured.

I asked my parents to lend me Don Leo so he could take us to the wake, Betito came with me, and more importantly to pick us up at night, before the curfew. It was already evening by the time we got there. Don Leo raised his eyebrows to point out the secret policemen stationed around the house. I assumed that few people would attend the wake, out of fear, but I was wrong: many families of officers who’d been executed, both today and fifteen days ago, and also families of prisoners and the condemned, like us, were crowded into the house; groups of young people came and went. I had never met the Gavidia family, only Merceditas. Angelita was sitting with someone who looked to all appearances to be the mother. I offered my condolences. I thought she would be devastated, in a state of collapse, but I was surprised by the composure, anger, maybe even hatred, that I could see in her face. I can’t and don’t even want to imagine the pain of losing two sons in such an appalling way, but I would not be surprised if the desire for vengeance acted at such moments as some kind of salve for the spirit. Angelita explained to me that the families of all three men who were executed wanted to hold their wakes together, in one place, but the general forbade it; she also told me that Pepe, the other Gavidia brother who had been detained, was released this afternoon, as if the warlock had been satisfied with the blood revenge he had exacted from the other brothers in the military. I asked where Pepe was, as I wanted to know if he had seen Pericles at the Central Prison, but it seems Pepe and Merceditas were both resting, they were devastated. I discovered Doña Chayito and Doña Consuelo conversing on the other side of the room. I went over to them. Doña Chayito announced that she would soon return to Lieutenant Marín’s wake, where Doña Julita and some other neighbors were, and she asked if I wanted to accompany her. Doña Consuelo was feeling out of sorts, she had a migraine and would soon return home. I looked for Betito so I could tell him I was going to the Marín family wake, but I couldn’t find him, he was neither in the house nor out on the patio. But I very nearly bumped into Fabito: he had just arrived with two other young people. He greeted me, very solemn and respectful, as always; he is identical to Fabio senior, even the same nasally voice. I asked him if he’d seen Betito; he said he hadn’t. Then I asked after Dr. Romero’s health, because Carlota had told me that her son is in constant contact with the doctors who are attending him in San Miguel. He explained that he is now out of danger, the machete wound on his face is healing, and the goal now is to not let him recover too quickly, to prevent the tyrant from ordering his execution. I noticed that Fabito and Doña Chayito greeted each other familiarly, like long-time accomplices. I asked him, if he ran into Betito, to please tell him I was going to the Marín family wake for a while and would soon return; I went to Angelita and asked her to do the same.

Doña Chayito was waiting for me out on the sidewalk. It was already getting dark. We had barely walked half a block when Don Leo pulled up alongside us in the car and stopped. This was unexpected, because we had agreed he would return to pick me up at nine at night, and I assumed he was at my parents’ house. As if to excuse himself, he said that Father had instructed him to remain at my disposal. “Get in,” Doña Chayito said quickly; two secret policemen were standing on the corner. I asked Don Leo if he had seen Betito leave. He said that Henry, Flaco, and Chepito had picked him up in Chepito’s car. Halfway there, checking to make sure Don Leo didn’t see her through the rearview mirror, Doña Chayito, without any fuss, put her hand down her belly, under her skirt and her underpants, and pulled out a small piece of paper, which she unfolded and gave to me; it was another communiqué from the university students, a different one than Raúl had brought over this morning, as I could see from the heading. It would have been very difficult for me to read it in that light. I folded it back up and hid it in my brassiere.