Horacio Castellanos Moya - Tyrant Memory

And there I was, as if coming from another world, because I love traveling by train; as soon as the engine whistles and the cars begin to clatter along the tracks, I get swept away into memories of my youth and adolescence, a sensation of idleness washes over me, as if the landscape rushing by were lifting me out of reality. I was also coming from a different world because my mother-in-law lives in her memories, talking to her is like climbing into an old attic, or rather, opening a chest full of stories; she always pulls out a couple of new anecdotes about Pericles, curious stories about his childhood and adolescence. I greatly enjoyed my visit to the market with María Elena and Petronila, my in-laws’ old servant, to buy chorizos, cuajada , and pepitoria . The only thing I don’t like is eating lunch with the colonel: the atmosphere is so silent, martial, like being in a mess hall with a commander who doesn’t allow talking at mealtime; that’s where Pericles gets all his manias. I noticed that in that city, merely one hour away from San Salvador by train, one doesn’t feel any of the political agitation we experience here, as if the struggle to depose the general had nothing to do with them. Only when I spoke with Father Dionisio, the parish priest of Nuestra Señora del Carmen Church, who dropped by in the afternoon to have a cup of coffee with my mother-in-law, did I feel the excitement of the political situation. Father Dionisio asked about Clemen, whom he has known since he was a child; I told him I had no news. He crossed himself and muttered that he prays daily for the Lord to keep him safe and sound; he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. My mother-in-law gave me a basket of food for me to take to Pericles tomorrow. The poor dear was sitting down most of the time because of her arthritis; it was difficult for her to even take a few steps.

What really soured my mood upon my return, however, was to find two suitcases and a few boxes of Clemen’s belongings, which Mila, taking advantage of my absence, had brought over in the afternoon, and which Betito had moved into what had been Pati’s bedroom, which I now use as a sewing room. Tomorrow I will have to tell Pericles all about this, I wouldn’t want him to be released one of these days soon and have his return spoiled by his sudden discovery of Mila’s betrayal; better for him to know now, for he has said himself that in jail all other problems seem “like when you take off your glasses and everything shrinks.” Ana spent the night in María Elena’s room, for Mila has already moved out, and she wouldn’t let her come stay at her parents’, so she just threw her out in the street; they will both leave tomorrow early for their village. I have prepared some gifts for Belka.

Saturday April 29

They might release Pericles at any moment. God heard my prayers! Betito and I went this morning early to the Central Prison; there was a throng of visitors because it was also visiting day for common criminals. I don’t know if it was just my impression, because I am very susceptible to suggestion, but there was something different in the air, as if people were feeling more optimistic, less afraid. Doña Chayito said we should talk afterward, many things are happening and she wanted to bring me up-to-date. Carmela and Chelón joined us in the line going in. Pericles was very happy to see them. Then Mingo arrived, and my brother-in-law, Toño, who came from Cojutepeque. It was the first visit like in the old days, when my husband used to be held in the Black Palace, in a room near the director. We drank coffee and ate sweet breads (everybody brought food for Pericles), we gossiped, we laughed at the latest jokes about the general and Doña Concha. My husband said that by the time he gets out of jail he’ll have enough jokes and salacious stories to fill a book. Carmela and Chelón were the first to leave; then Toño and Mingo said they also had to go, but Pericles told the latter to stay with me for a few minutes because he wanted to discuss something. Betito said goodbye to his father and said he’d wait for me outside, using as an excuse that we were going to discuss issues he had no business hearing, as if I hadn’t noticed his interest in Leonor, Doña Julita’s daughter, while we were lining up to go in. Pericles revealed that Dr. Ávila had visited him yesterday afternoon, Friday, to make him a proposition: they will release him if he goes straight to Mexico and establishes contact between “the man” and Don Vicente Lombardo Toledano, the most influential workers’ leader in the Mexican government, a man Pericles befriended during our years in exile. Dr. Ávila specified that this was just to test the waters, an initiative of his ministry, but now that the general is interested in promoting social programs to improve the lives of the poor, he may well be receptive to considering an initiative that would establish a closer relationship with the experience of the Mexican revolution, and Pericles would be the right person to do it. “What did you say?” Mingo asked him, looking quite surprised. “I said I have no desire to go from being a prisoner to being a messenger boy in exile, that if they wish to establish contact with Vicente, they have an ambassador, and that’s what he gets paid for,” he said. He then made it clear to Dr. Ávila that they should free him immediately, for there has been no crime and no trial, only an arbitrary arrest, and that once he returns to being an ordinary citizen, with rights and legal guarantees, he would be willing to listen, in the living room of his own home, to the government’s social plans and any reasonable request they make of him. “What did he say?” I asked, because Don Ramón is quite sensible and I know he is fond of us. “What could he say, he doesn’t make the decisions.?” he answered in that typically derisive tone he uses when his meaner self overrides his intelligence. But I am hopeful that Dr. Ávila’s gesture is a sign that my husband will soon return home. What leaves no room for doubt, Pericles added, “is that they’re up to their eyes in you-know-what now that the gringos have thrown them overboard,” and for the first time he has the impression that “the man” is going down a blind alley. Mingo was perplexed by the news; he muttered that not only was he being abandoned by the gringos, but he also had all the bankers and coffee growers against him, the students and teachers were on strike, and the medical society would be applying strong pressure starting next Tuesday for him to decree an amnesty to prevent the execution of Dr. Romero. Pericles asked after Don Jorge’s health. Mingo said he was with him yesterday at the Polyclinic, Don Jorge is out of mortal danger, but nobody knows for certain how fully he will recover; then he looked at his watch, he said time was flying, there were only ten minutes left to visit, he would leave us alone and wait for me outside so he could accompany me home. I told him not to worry, I had already arranged to meet some friends on my way out. Then I mustered my courage and without any preambles I told Pericles, in a very low voice, that Mila had moved out of her house and intends to divorce Clemen and is the lover of Colonel Castillo, the prosecutor of the Military Court that sentenced my son to death. While I was tripping over my tongue trying to tell the story, I felt terribly anxious, as if I were to blame for what had happened, but once I’d finished, as Pericles screwed his face into a look of disgust, I suddenly felt lighter, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. I told him I thought it better that he knew now so as to avoid spoiling his return home. He asked after our grandchildren; he asked if Pati, the colonel, or Mama Licha knew. Then, chewing on his words as if he were going to spit them out, he simply said, “Every cloud has a silver lining.” As we said goodbye I had this feeling I still carry with me, that we would soon be together again.