Horacio Castellanos Moya - Tyrant Memory

“We’re worse off than we were before, Jimmy: even if we do manage to get out of the swamp, we won’t be where Mono Harris will look for us when he gets back!”

“I know. You don’t have to shout at me!”

“I’m not shouting!”

“You’re letting despair get the better of you, Clemen. Calm down.”

“We managed to escape from that motherfucking general of yours just to come here and die like this! I can’t believe it!”

“Calm down, already! If you get desperate and keep shouting, you’re going to get even thirstier. At least we’re out of the sun here. ”

“We should try to go back to the canal where we were, Jimmy, where Mono Harris left us. ”

“Right now we need to conserve our energy. Not start rowing like crazy.”

“You think Mono Harris will come?”

“He’s got a motor on his boat. We’ll hear him if he comes anywhere near.”

“You’re right.”

“And if he doesn’t find us in the canal, he’ll look everywhere in the swamp for us.”

“God willing.”

9:12 a.m.

“Hey, Jimmy!”

“What? What happened?”

“We fell asleep.”

“We did.”

“How long has it been, you think?”

“Let’s see. ”

“The sun is pretty high.”

“It’s about ten.”

“I think it’s past eleven, Jimmy. I’m so hot.”

“No, it’s not that late.”

“Damn, this thirst is unbearable!”

“Look where we are. The current has carried us, Clemen.”

“That’s why I woke up, the sun was blasting me in the face.”

“Are we in the same canal?”

“I see the same mangroves everywhere. ”

“I’ll row into the shade. ”

“I feel kind of dizzy, Jimmy.”

“It’s the sun. It was more on you than me. Good thing you woke up. Otherwise, you’d have gotten sunstroke.”

“The water is twinkling.”

“We’re in the shade now. You’ll feel better here.”

“Where are we?”

“I have the feeling there’s a way out of this swamp close by, just around the corner, but we’ve just had bad luck.”

“I need some water, Jimmy. Really. I’m feeling terrible. ”

“I’m going to try once more. ”

“What?”

“To find a way out. ”

“You’ve still got energy to row?. I can’t.”

“We’ve got to make the effort. Anyway, we should take advantage of the current. It’ll have to carry us out to sea. ”

“Let’s stay under the trees, Jimmy, out of the sun.”

“It’s impossible. Look. Some are too low, the branches touch the water. We’ll have to go down the middle of the canal.”

“Shh. ”

“What?”

“You hear?”

“What?”

“Stop rowing and be quiet. ”

“. ”

“It’s a buzzing, Jimmy! It’s a motorboat!”

“I don’t hear anything. ”

“Yes! I hear it perfectly!”

“You’re hallucinating, Clemen. ”

“No, I’m not hallucinating!. Listen!. It’s a motor!. It’s Mono Harris!. ”

“Where?”

“Over there! It’s getting closer!”

“You’re right! I hear it now!”

“Row that way, Jimmy, so he doesn’t miss us!. It’s Mono Harris! We’re saved!”

“I hear it on the other side!. ”

“Don’t be a fool! It’s over there, Jimmy! Row over there!”

Tuesday May 2

Two nights without writing and so much to tell. Yesterday, the government issued an arrest warrant for Chente and some other university students; fortunately, they were forewarned and there were no arrests. They are in hiding; according to Raúl, only the leaders of the Student Strike Committee know their whereabouts. He also explained that the general made the announcement in order to intimidate anybody who might want to commemorate the one-month anniversary of the armed uprising. Raúl is deeply committed to the medical society strike. This afternoon he attended a meeting of doctors called by the director of Rosales Hospital at which they drafted a resolution calling on the government to commute all death sentences and decree a general amnesty for political prisoners. Raúl says the doctors are united and determined, and if the general fails to respond they will halt medical services in San Salvador and will not allow the warlock to execute Dr. Romero. I asked him if this measure would also affect the Polyclinic, or only the public hospitals, and what would happen in cases such as Don Jorge’s; he told me the strike would be general, but that patients in intensive care units would continue to receive medical attention. Poor Rosita is beside herself: again and again she asks herself what she did wrong that her son and her husband make her suffer so, as if it were their fault and not the warlock’s. I’ve tried to reason with her, explain that each of them is acting in accordance with the dictates of his own conscience, that now is the moment for us all to take risks to force that cruel man to leave the country and let us live in peace.

A whole detachment of policemen is in front of our house keeping surveillance on us. I fear they will arrest Betito; I’ve asked him to be very careful. Mother has suggested he stay at their house until the situation returns to normal; Betito has said he doesn’t want to leave me alone. Don Leo came by with the car this morning to drive him to school and brought him back in the afternoon, along with the news that as of tomorrow classes are cancelled until further notice. Betito said he and his classmates will spend all their time working to support the strike; there’s nothing I can do to stop him. Last night I realized that Chente’s disappearance has left me without a direct link to the university movement, and that it’s imperative I find a way to safely funnel the funds Father collects to the strikers. Raúl told me he would communicate my concern to the students so they can designate someone. I called Doña Chayito but didn’t find her. This morning I went to the Figueroas’; Fabito doesn’t appear on the list of students on the arrest order, and I thought I might find him at home. No luck. Carlota promised me she would tell her son I was looking for him, though she warned me that sometimes Fabito doesn’t even come home to sleep, he is always running around, working on organizing the strike. I was surprised that Carlota as well as Luz María are now quite receptive to the struggle against the general, the latter even admitting to me that she and her friends are forming a group to visit their friends and persuade them to close their shops when the strike is called. Carlota assured me her husband also supports the ultimatum the medical society gave the general, and he will do everything possible to stop the general from executing Dr. Romero, her gynecologist.

I told my parents about Dr. Ávila’s offer to Pericles. Father said my husband did the right thing to refuse; Mother called Doña Tina yesterday to wheedle information out of her, but she didn’t seem to know anything about it. I haven’t wanted to get involved because Pericles would never forgive me, though I’ve been chomping at the bit to call Don Ramón. My visiting day at the Central Prison is supposed to be Saturday; I have tried and failed to get in touch with Colonel Palma to get him to authorize a visit before then, that way I can find out if any other member of the government had gotten in touch with my husband or if Dr. Ávila has returned. I would like to discuss with my in-laws the offer he made to Pericles, but I would have to go all the way to Cojutepeque — it’s too dangerous to talk about it over the phone.

This afternoon I stopped by Hispania stationers to look for a beautiful notebook, one similar to my diary from Brussels, but I had no luck: there were several for schoolchildren, not convenient to write in. I asked Don Sebastián if by chance he had any notebooks in his storeroom; he said everything he had was on display. He asked after Pericles, his favorite client, as he calls him, because my husband is a fanatic about paper, pens, and ink; I told him about my visits to the Central Prison, about how arbitrary the authorities are acting, about my despair and my hope. Then I asked him what he thought about the strike as a way of forcing the general to step down, if he will support the effort and close his shop. He answered that he fears reprisals from the government, but if all the shops on the block close, he will also, and he’ll join the strike. I bought this notebook, the one I’m writing in now, which is fairly ordinary, on the condition that in his next order he get me a diary as lovely as the one I bought in Brussels.