The Valley / Estampas Del Valle by Rolando Hinojosa

Arte Pblico Press
Houston, Texas
The Valley is made possible through a grant from the City of Houston
through the Houston Arts Alliance.
Recovering the past, creating the future
Arte Pblico Press
University of Houston
4902 Gulf Fwy, Bldg 19, Rm 100
Houston, Texas 77204-2004
The Border Door": site specific performance/installation/intervention. Media: gold
painted wooden door, hung and framed, keys. Chicano artist Richard A. Lou placed a
workable freestanding gold painted door with 134 detachable keys on May 28, 1988 on
the Mexico/U.S.A. border, 1/4 mile east of the Tijuana International Airport. After
installation of The Border Door, Lou returned to the house of his youth in la Colonia
Roma and distributed over 250 keys, inviting people he encountered to use The Border
Door, as he walked to La Casa de Los Pobres in la Colonia Altamira. Both
neighborhoods are in Tijuana, BCN. The Border Door" photo credit: James Elliott.
Cover design by Mora Desgn
Hinojosa, Rolando
The Valley = Estampas del Valle / by Rolando Hinojosa.
p. cm.
In English and Spanish.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 978-1-55885-787-2 (alk. paper)
1. Mexican AmericansFiction. 2. Rio Grande Valley (Colo.-
Mexico and Tex.)Fiction. I. Hinojosa, Rolando. Estampas del valle.
II. Title. III. Title: Estampas del valle.
PQ7079.2.H5E7913 2014
863'.64dc23
2013038549
CIP
The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the
American National Standard for Information SciencesPermanence of
Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984
.
First edition published by Quinto Sol Publications, Berkeley, CA, 1973
Second edition published by Justa Publications, Berkeley, CA, 1977
2014 by Rolando Hinojosa
Printed in the United States of America
14 15 16 17 18 19 20 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
v
Contents
Preface by Nicols Kanellos ix
The Valley
AN OLIO One daguerreotype plus photographs 1
Braulio Tapia 3
Tere Malacara ne Vilches Noriega 4
Roque Malacara 5
Lying to With Sails Set 6
About Those Relatives of Mine 9
On the Road: Hard Luck, Hard Times 13
On-the-Job Training 16
But Since He Died 20
Three Years Wrapped in One Twenty-Four-Hour Day 27
Flora 28
Bruno Cano: Lock, Stock and Bbl. 29
RAFE BUENROSTRO Delineations for a first portrait with
sketches and photographs (individually and severally) 39
SOMETIMES IT JUST HAPPENS THAT WAY List of
Characters 56
Sometimes It Just Happens That Way; Thats All 57
One of Those Things 58
Marta, and What She Knows 64
Romeo Hinojosa, Attorney at Law 69
A Deposition Freely Given 70
Excerpt from The Klail City Enterprise-News 73
vi
LIVES AND MIRACLES Final entry in the photographic
variorum 75
True Dedication 77
When It Comes to Class: Viola Barragn 79
The Old Revolutionaries 84
A Summery Sunday Afternoon in Klail City 90
A Leguizamn Family Portrait 93
Beto Castaeda 97
Coyotes 100
Burnias 104
Don Javier 109
Emilio Tamez 110
Auntie Panchita 111
Epigmenio Salazar 113
Fira, A Blonde Not Having Too Much Fun 114
Arturo Leyva 116
Don Manuel Guzmn 117
Don Genaro Castaeda, Master Housepainter 118
Night People 121
The Squires at the Round Table 124
Estampas del Valle 127
Nota preliminar 129
Nota que sirva para despabilar 129
Braulio Tapia 130
Tere Noriega 131
Roque Malacara 132
Hurfano y al pairo 133
Mis primos 135
Contratiempos del oficio 137
Aprendiendo el oficio 140
Otra vez la muerte 143
vii
Flora 149
Al pozo con Bruno Cano 150
Don Javier 156
Emilio Tamez 157
La ta Panchita 158
Epigmenio Salazar 159
La gera Fira 160
Arturo Leyva 161
Don Manuel Guzmn 162
El Maistro 163
Voces del barrio 165
Mesa redonda 168
POR ESAS COSAS QUE PASAN Extracto del The Klail City
Enterprise-News 173
Por esas cosas que pasan 174
Marta cuenta lo suyo 178
Romeo Hinojosa, Attorney at Law 182
A Deposition Freely Given 183
Extracto del The Klail City Enterprise-News 186
VIDAS Y MILAGROS Para empezar, una dedicatoria 189
As se cumple 191
Los revolucionarios 195
Un domingo en Klail 200
Los Leguizamn 203
Beto Castaeda 206
Coyotes 208
Burnias 210
UNA VIDA DE RAFA BUENROSTRO 215
To Patti, Clarissa and Karen Louise, again
ix
PREFACE
Some forty years ago as a young graduate student, I marveled
at the literary world represented in Rolando Hinojosas Estampas
del Valle that seemed to have sprung from nowhere. Here were
characters, a language and a setting that had never before been the
material of literary arts. Never in my wildest dreams did I think
that one day I would become the publisher of Estampas and of all
the subsequent works written by Rolando Hinojosa. I fondly
remember that at a 1973 conference on Toms Rivera and Chicano
literature, Hinojosa said that he would be delighted if someday I
would write about his works. Many years passed before I could
take him up on that invitation. But more importantly, since the
early 1980s, Arte Pblico Press had inherited the mantle of Quin-
to Sol and published the works of Rolando Hinojosa. Now it is my
pleasure to add a few lines to the volumes that have been written
in many languages about Rolando Hinojosas creative world.
What you hold in your hands, dear reader, is one of three foun-
dational works of Chicano fiction, having won the Quinto Sol
Award that forever designated Rolando Hinojosas Estampas del
Valle (1973), along with Toms Riveras . . . y no se lo trag la tier-
ra (1971) and Rudolfo Anayas Bless Me, Ultima (1972), as the
models for the nascent literary movement that would inspire and
guide hundreds of Mexican-American and other Latino narrators
for at least the next forty years.
Estampas del Valle and The Valley, Hinojosas re-creation in
English of this novel, present a mosaic of the picturesque charac-
ter types, folk customs and speech of the bilingual community in
the small towns in the Lower Rio Grande Valley of Texas. While
his sketches and insights are at times reminiscent of the local color
crnicas published in 1920s Spanish-language newspapers, his
experimentation with numerous narrative forms in his various nov-
els that follow Estampas, ranging from reporting to epistolary to
detective fiction, make Hinojosas art one of the most sophisticat-
ed contributions to Latino literature. The Valley / Estampas del
Valle, along with the first novels by Toms Rivera and Rodolfo
Anaya, constitute what the Quinto Sol editors hoped would be the
basis for a Chicano literary canon, a bulwark for the creation of a
Chicano cultural nationalism.
Regardless of the canonicity or not of what were back then
marginal, minority group texts at Quinto Sol, they opened creative
pathways and were emulated by literally thousands of writers in
an effort to provide a language and literary corpus for what had
been cast as the sleeping giant of Mexican-American and Lati-
no people in the United States. Thus for more than forty years,
Hinojosas writing has served as a model and inspiration for Lati-
no writers of diverse backgrounds. At first, what was noteworthy
to scholars was Hinojosas characters who, despite or because of
their apparent isolation from a larger world, were stubborn and
unashamed in their affirmation of place, tradition, dialect and
worldview. Hinojosas work even pointed to an apparent Golden
Age, a time of cultural origins prior to the coming of the Anglo,
when language was pure, traditions were established and a sense
of identity and place were well formed. But The Valley / Estampas
was just the beginning phase of a continuing novel, the Klail City
Death Trip (KCDT), articulated through a series of books with dif-
ferent titles and structured in diverse genres that have become a
broad epic of the history and cultural evolution of the Mexican
Americans and Anglo Americans on Texas border with Mexico.
All of the books in the continuing and ongoing series, with some
twenty installations at times published in separate Spanish and
English editions (not translations), are centered in the fictitious
Belken County and focus on the lives of two characters and a
narratorRafe Buenrostro, Jeh Malacara and P. Galindoall of
whom may be partial alter egos of Hinojosa himself. What is espe-
cially intriguing about Hinojosas Klail City Death Trip Series is
his experimentation not only with various forms of narration
x Nicols Kanellos
derived from Spanish, Mexican, English and American literary
historiesbut also with English-Spanish bilingualism.
While there are many Latino writers of historical or genera-
tional fiction, Hinojosa is unique not only in developing a multi-
book and multi-genre trajectory but in articulating his fiction in
separate re-writings in English and Spanish of the original texts.
Hinojosas series is not a historical novel in the common under-
standing of such, in which a narrative is constructed in a remote
time period; KCDT evokes and recalls the foundational period of
Valley culture and updates it in an irrevocable path toward extinc-
tion of the original cultural base, at least extinction of the old
ways on a path toward a new, hybrid culture in this chronicling of
Mexican and Anglo-American culture clash and then blending
across the generations. It is the linguistic and ethno-cultural diver-
sity represented in Hinojosas texts that can only be understood, on
the one hand as a synthesis and on the other as a breech between
Anglo and Mexican pretensions of nationhood, an interstitial area
that speaks and acts for itself and is a cradle of creativity and affir-
mation beyond national assignations.
The Valley / Estampas del Valle is nothing more than the first
chapter of what Hinojosas narrators would call El cronicn de
Belken or El cronicn del Valle, that is, an ongoing, open-ended
epic. Hinojosas art is not just a simple chronicling of the ebb and
flow of two cultures in contact, of farm and ranch and town real
estate, financial and legal interests, of families and personalities,
their conflicts, marriage lines and separations. Hinojosas has been
a highly literary experiment in which he not only gives artistic
form to a life heretofore never represented adequately in literature
and art, but his experiment also has involved, nay demanded, see-
ing how far he can adapt and mold the literary tools he inherited to
capture that life at the crossroads of two cultures and two nations.
His experimentation has led him to explore and recapitulate the
complete history of literary genres, from oral lore and epic to
nueva narrativa lationamericana, from both the Spanish-language
Preface xi
and English-language traditions, from his tipping his hat to El Cid
and the Quijote to Ambrose Bierce, Faulkner and other American
writers.
The Valley / Estampas in its apparently simple depiction of
endearing characters, regional dialect, subtle humor and irony, has
many deeper layers for the reader to explore: anti-clericalism, cul-
tural integrity and sense of place, multiple and fragmented per-
spectives on what is socially constructed as truth. . . . But most of
all, The Valley / Estampas is an entertaining and intriguing read
that needs no philosophical or literary analysis to be enjoyed.
Nicols Kanellos, Ph.D.
Publisher
xii Nicols Kanellos
Born between two worlds, one dead and one as yet unborn.
Matthew Arnold
ON THE STARTING BLOCKS
The etchings, sketches, engravings, et al that follow resemble
Mencho Saldaas hair: the damn things disheveled oily, and, as
one would expect, matted beyond redemption and relief.
A WORD TO THE WISE (GUY)
What follows, more likely as not, is a figment of someones
imagination; the reader is asked to keep this disclaimer in mind.
For his part, the compiler stakes no claim of responsibility; he
owns and holds the copyright but little else.
An Olio
One daguerreotype plus photographs
3
BRAULIO TAPIA
Squat, what the Germans call diecke and thus heavy of chest
and shoulders, Roque Malacara carries his hat in his hand; this last
shouldnt fool the reader, however, since R.M.s step is firm and
resolute.
Im standing on the doorway on the east porch of a hot Thurs-
day afternoon, and he says: My coming here alone isnt a matter of
disrespect, sir, its just that Ive no money for sponsors.
He then asks me for my daughter Teres hand; I nod and point
to the living room. Hat held in a firm hand, he follows with the
same and sure unwavering step.
He then reminds me that I gave him permission to call on Tere:
its been over a year and a half, sir. Again I nod and this time we
shake hands.
Turning my head slightly to the right, I catch a glimpse, or
think I do, of my late father-in-law, Don Braulio Tapia: long side-
burns and matching black mustache la Kaiser; Don Braulio rais-
es his hand to shake mine as he did years ago when I first came
here to this house to ask for Matildes hand.
By that time, with Doa Sstenes death, hed been a widower
as I now am and have been since Mattis death years ago. Don
Braulio nods, takes my hand and bids me enter.
Who did Don Braulio see when he walked up these steps to ask
for his wifes hand?
4
TERE MALACARA NE VILCHES NORIEGA
Im bushed, beat and dead to the world; know what I mean?
Im a dollar short and three days behind, and I cant even blame it
on staying up, which I dont, anyway. Its this life, thats all. Its
hard.
I know there are other women worse off . . . still . . . well, take
the barmaids, now. Why, theyre pawed at by anyone with the price
of a glass of beer. Or, and maybe worse, the housemaids. Its
known that neither danger nor the devil blink an eye, and the
housemaids had better not, either: I mean, theres the Mister and
the Misters son, and (I know what Im talking about) its best to
keep an eye on the Mrs. herself, you bet.
Yeah, I know that the servant girls and the barmaids are worse
off, but whats that to me? Im both dog and bone tired, and thats
a mortal fact.
Now, if I were educated Id be able to say this much better,
wouldnt I? Finer, maybe, but the trouble is, Im just plain tired.
5
ROQUE MALACARA
Teres my wife, and I know shes tired. Sgot every right to be
so. We only have the boy now; Tere and I have now seen to the bur-
ial of my father-in-law and our three girls.
My father-in-law was a good man; a good man in the best
sense of the word good, as Machado once pointed out. He loved to
fish the sly Ro Grande gray-cat; his favorite companion was his
little namesake, our Jeh, since each had the patience to bait and
hook the trickster feeding in the tules.
Now, if there is such a thing as reincarnation, Id swear, and I
would, too, Id swear that my son and my late father-in-law are one
and the same person.
6
LYING TO WITH SAILS SET
The age of seven may be a mite early to meet Death head on,
but thats when I first met her; it happened of an early evening
when I finally arrived home from school by way of the estuary and
the canal, stopping for a long swim in each. The women of the
neighborhood were standing in the middle of the street waiting for
me: Dont go home, now, Jeh; well call you. In the meantime,
you go on over to Gelasio Chapas barbershop. You wait there,
now. And I did; I knew what was up, knew it right off, and I cried
the better part of the night until they came for me; I was then fed
and tucked but not in our house.
Id forgotten all about Pa, and when I did ask, I was told: Well,
hes been drinking for the last two days, see. Hes over at Canos
place, but itd be better if you let him be for now. And I did that,
too.
We, Pa and I, buried Mama not too far from San Pedro, and
then Pa and Id go over there once a month until he, too, one day
and I mean, one-two-three, just like that, when one day, as I
said, he died as he was telling me a joke; a joke which now, some
twenty-five years and two wars later, Ive not been able to recall
for the life of me.
I was about nine when he died, and it was by mere chance that
a knockabout carny troupe pulled into Relmpago on that same
day.
It was a small affair, the carny was; it included a fair to mid-
dling Big Top, and the main attractions were the high wire and the
trapeze acts. The wired be strung out the length of the eighty-foot
tent and a man (made up to look Japanese or as if drunk or some-
thing) or a girl sometimes dressed up in a one-piece bathing suit
would show up and each one behind the other would then wend
their way from one end of the tent to the other and back again. The
wire was strong and tight enough, all right, but it wasnt too high
off the ground.
Now, right behind a cotton curtain, a five-man ensemble
played whatever had been agreed upon before the start of the show,
and then the curtain would drop, the instruments would be set
aside and the musicians, dressed and painted up as clowns, would
come bounding out to meet the public. They wouldnt come out
empty-handed, either. Each one carried a basket jammed with
boxes of caramel candy; the boxes were not always hand-filled to
the top, but they were attractive: when flattened out, the customer
had himself a Mexican flag as a souvenir.
At other times, other men, or perhaps the same ones, depend-
ing on the size of the troupe on any given trip, the men, as I was
saying, would stand in the middle of the main and only ring and
localize their jokes, that is, theyd joke about actual people or char-
acters from Relmpago or from any of the other neighboring Val-
ley towns. Theyd carry on so that the Relampagans, a dour lot,
would smile in recognition, nudge each other and, finally, burst out
laughingbut doing this was hard work cause Relampagans are
hard to please.
The thing is that once we buried Pa, and I was brought back to
town, I was left alone there, in the park, and the people went off to
work or, as we say: they went off to live, a vivir.
Well, I walked around a bit; I thought about school somewhat,
but then decided to call on my Aunt Chedes on the chance my
cousins would be there. (Aunt Chedes never attended funerals; it
was her fear that if she did, then everyone there would die. Every-
one, she said, and so she always stayed home, ironing).
When I stepped in the house, I almost bolted out the same door
I came in because, truth to tell, her crying made me uneasy, ill at
ease. Although I missed Pa very much, and I did, I used to look at
him as an older brother; one I never had. The point being that my
memories of him mustve been quite different from those of Aunt
Chedes and of that I am certain.
The Valley 7
After a while she stopped her crying, but, and again as always,
she had a case of hiccups. And there she was, breathing in and
breathing out, when she stared at me for the longest time; she
turned to the wall for a moment as if looking for something and
then she looked at me again. Well, I figured she was fixing to faint
or something, but she was frightfully absent-minded, too, and then
looked past me, and I thought she was planning to go off in one of
those trances of hers. I stopped her by walking right to her, and
asked: Wheres the kids?
She recovered, was about to explain this end of it, when she
stopped her ironing, placed her middle fingerall of it, to the hilt
inside her mouth. She then placed the iron on the trivet and, finger in
mouth, she turned, opened the walnut ice box and proceeded to fill a
tall glass of water.
The house was quiet, and she hadnt said a word in about five
minutes. Placing the glass on the ironing board, she dipped that
middle finger in the cold water, made the sign of the cross in the
air and then on my forehead: Drink this, she said, drink this whole
glass of water, Jeh. All of it, now, and dont stop till you do.
While youre doing that, Im going to say an Our Father back-
wards for todays the day youre to meet your new Pa.
I looked at her, but she wouldnt start until I started to drink.
Standing there, mouth agape, I didnt know what to do, butjust
in casecause you never can tell, I took the glass and began to
drink as she half-hummed, half-sung out: Amen, evil from us
deliver and . . .
8 Rolando Hinojosa
ABOUT THOSE RELATIVES OF MINE
Aunt Chedes and her husband, Juan Briones, between them,
came up with three uneven chips; the first one was Cousin Bias.
Bias was baptized Bias Brionesso far, so goodbut by the
time he hit three he was called Hoarsey, there being some growth or
impediment in his larynx, and so nowright nowa lot of people
who remember him cant tell you his right name. And, in re the last
name, well, you can just forget that cause its Hoarsey-this and
Hoarsey-that, and that over there; Gods truth it is when its claimed
that nicknames are powerful friends or enemies; I mean, theyll
sweep names and characters away, if one isnt careful. Theres more:
nicknames sometimes miss the mark. Completely. This may be due
to the mortal fact that theres a bit of everything in Gods Little Acre.
Look at this: take Antero de Len as a living example. Anteros
called Kid Fast, and one cant find a slower Christian than Antero
in the whole of the North American continent. Dumb aint the
word, as the saying goes, and about the only fast property in
Antero is his color: its green; and you know the kind I mean, its
the green that grows on copper and thats Antero all over.
Anyway, Hoarsey got himself a job as a truck loader and, later
on, as a truck driver. And, once he got that chauffeurs license,
why, he stepped back, took stock of the Valley and said: Well,
folks, its been good here, but the next time Old Hoarsey farts, itll
only be heard by people living in Ohio, cause thats where Im
headed . . . See you.
My other two cousins were Eduviges, whom we called Edu (no
need to point out how that came about), and who, later on, in
school, was Vicky, that being the closest to Viges; the third cousin,
Santos, was called Pepe, but thats harder to explain, and I wont
even think of getting into that piece of business.
Kindergarten, however, soon took care of the Santos-Pepe hul-
labaloo: he couldnt have been there over three hours when he went
9
to the bathroom, and, as long as he stayed thereagain, so far, so
goodhe was still Santos or Pepe. It was the coming out. Old S-P
walked into that classroom, and the overhead fluorescents reflected,
and thus betrayed, a vague glint of a light liquid working its way
down from thigh to knee, to shin, to ankle bone. Wait; theres more:
not only was he wearing short pants, but these were pure, one hun-
dred percent cotton khaki, and everybody knows how that shows.
Yeah, it couldnt have been over three hours, top, cause by the
time noon-lunch and recess came about, the word was going out:
No more Santos and no more Pepe, went the cry. Hoarseys broth-
ers name is now Min, Wet Pants. And Wet Pants or Pants it is to
this day. As Pants grew up, he went from hellion to hell raiser to
stick-up man until he was caught, arrested, indicted, tried, convict-
ed and furnished with a three-year round trip ticket to Sugarland.
Once there, he applied himself and this shows what pride, care and
nose to-the-grindstone dedication will get you: Pants learned how
to make license plates; yeah, he did, and he was good at it, too. He
was the best, and the best there, and the best when he left.
License plate making, though, is a highly specialized field, and
Pants soon learned there was little demand for his services out on
the street: But he was made of sterner stuff; he decided, as he said,
to get himself a job even if it meant starving to death.
So, on his first month out, he became a painters apprentice,
and he stayed out of the beer places, too, that being one of the pro-
scriptions set by the parole board. (In the Valley, the parolee stays
out of the beer joints two months straight, and hes home free).
At the beginning of the third month, Pants walks into the Aqu
me quedo, buys a round for three or four of the regulars when one
of these notices the tattoos; Pants was covered with them.
They looked, and he rolled up his shirt sleeves and his pant legs;
he then raised his T-shirt and showed those as well, and one in the
back where the word amor was misspelled roma. No one said a word.
Dis-o-ri-en-ted is what people said they were; the man was
covered with tattoos from head to t., and they didnt know what to
10 Rolando Hinojosa
call him now. When asked, he said he didnt care and recommend-
ed they vote on it.
It wasnt what you would call a plebiscite, but it sure had the
looks of one as people chose sides as to what to call him now that
the man was a walking-talking spectacle. (A colorful spectacle is
what the local paper called him.)
A vote was taken, witnessed and counted. Pants said that if this
had taken place in Flora, instead of here, in Klail City, then there
would have been a beauty contest (the Flora people being more
organized than the Klail City mexicanos), but he let that pass.
The tally was overwhelmingly for Pants as the official name,
and it won by a comfortable margin, e.g., the Rincn del Diablo
neighborhood, for one, voted Pants unanimously, and you know
what that means. The losers took it graciously enough, the name
Tattoo was retired and Pants went back to being called just that; to
this day, as mentioned earlier.
The third cousin, Vicky, took her time in settling down; and, as
a consequence, almost didnt. Flighty may be the operative word
here, and theres no use her denying she was Aunt Chedes daugh-
ter. Its absolutely true one cant choose ones relatives, but theres
a proverb which hits closer to home: when choosing between a full
larder and an empty head, in the natural order of things, take the
food since it will keep your mind off worry and hunger. Vickys
hunger was something else.
Her leaving the household was no less dramatic: I came up the
porch, and she handed me two small bags. Wait here, she says.
There was Aunt Chedes ironing away when Vicky told her she
was leaving home to join a carny troupe. Well! Aunt Chedes faint-
ed, was revived, collapsed again, revived again, farted, yelled,
screamed and, wouldnt you know it, she caught the hiccups.
There she was breathing in and breathing out, when all of a sud-
den she said, Water! But Vicky just stood there and said, Sit
down, Ma; Ma, sit. Listen, Ma.
The Valley 11
Which she did. Now, everyone knows no pain or ache on this
earth is going to last a hundred years, and the same goes for hic-
cups, Aunt Chedes being no exception. When her eyes focused
again, she remembered something about the tent show, and look-
ing at Vicky right smack, she 1) requested free tickets for the entire
family, and that includes you, Jeh; 2) warned Vicky not to hang
out with bad types.
Vicky nodded, and, as time went on, she came through with the
carny passes. As to Aunt Chedes second pronunciamento, Vicky
followed the same footsteps of the long-gone New World
Viceroys: One must always listen to, but not necessarily heed, His
Majestys advice. Unschooled as she was, Vicky somehow intuit-
ed this and other sound machiavellian logic and reasoning.
When Juan Briones learned that he and Aunt Chedes would
now be living alone again, his reaction was one of exemplary sto-
icism which garnered additional credit to my uncle and to that fine,
old school: the man leaned back and ordered another beer as well
as another dozen oysters on the half-shell.
Its said that many are called and fewer chosen and Juan
Briones, clearly, belongs to the latter: the happy few; the chosen.
12 Rolando Hinojosa
13
ON THE ROAD: HARD LUCK, HARD TIMES
Careful, there, and watch how you hold that jack handle, now.
Hold it by the handle, Jeh. Thats it . . . Hold on, now. Good.
There! That ought to do it. Now, reach over carefully and take the
crowbar there (pain-in-the-ass rain) and jiggle it . . . like that, yeah
. . . go on; yeah, thats it. Aha! Up, down, good. Thats it. You got
it; keep it steady sos I can ree-mooo-ve this goddam tire! Will you
look at that? I knew it . . . Oh, I just knew it had to be the inside
tire. Lord, Lord.
Careful you dont slip on the mud there, Don Vctor.
Ill be all right, and it aint the mud, son, its that fool rain.
Watch it, Jeh; on your toes, now, dont lose them tire nuts, hear?
Look at this, Im what you call wet.
Som I.
Gods truth and no one elses, but what the hell . . . A flats a
flat. You just remember what the Emperor Cuauhtmoc said when
put to the torch: You think Im lying here in a bed of roses, do
you?
Thats the quote, all right, but it was Moctezuma.
Ah, well, one o the two. Come on, tire, cooperate, god-
damit!
It wont, you know, but cussing helps.
Ill saygotcha now, you son-of-a-bitch . . . Ha!
Don Vctor, I figure were six-seven miles out of Edgerton.
Is that a fact? Ummmmm, watch it, Jeh; grab-a-hold o that
jack, son. Careful, now; you wouldnt want it to slip on you. Damn
thingll kill you, Jeh.
Im all right . . . Really; youre the ones got to watch it,
though.
Ah, ah, ah, ahhhhhhh! Out, damned spotChrist and all his
nailsThere! Got that damned thingroll that spare on over, now.
Youre going to need some help on that.
14 Rolando Hinojosa
No, its okay, you just mind the jack, now. There! (Lord God,
is that a norther blowing in with the rain?) Watch it, Jeh; on your
toes, now. Lets see that crowbar again . . . Hammer? . . . Got it IN!
. . . Real careful, now. Slow; slowly, now . . . Slowly . . . Good. Jacks
coming down . . . we just needtogetourselvesanotherjack sall there
is to it. Eee-sy, does it, now. (Thank you for the help on the tire,
Lord, but, between you n me, I couldve done without that norther
blowin in.)
How we doing?
We got this thing licked now, Jeh. Careful, boy, dont take
your eyes off that jack; damn thing slips and itll snap your wrist
right off.
Yessir . . .
There, Jeh! We got it, all I gotta do now is tighten these
boogers, and thats it.
Im going to check some of the tarp hooks; I noticed one of
em was coming loose.
Watch that traffic, Jeha lotta damfools on the road
tonight.
Don Vctor Pelez was right, all right: the wind blowing in was
a cool one; too cool for the Valley this early in October.
On the opposite side of the semi Jeh Malacara was tying
down part of the tarp that had come off on that side of the rig. The
youngster held two corners of the tarp and brought them together
to where the metal holds were on top of each other; once this was
done, he stretched them until they were fastened to a hook which
both held and anchored the rest of the tarp as well.
The water-soaked high-top tennis shoes were mud-laden as
well, and the mud worked its way in and out of the canvas as Jeh
walked around the truck checking for other loose ropes. For no
reason at all, he remembered hed left his cap inside the cab; fat lot
of good that wouldve done, he thought. His hair, wet as it was,
was now down to his eyes. Eyes which at once were innocent and
wise, perhaps not an uncommon combination in the young.
Hows it going, Jeh? Pretty good back there?
Yessir.
Well, lets get in, then, its high time we were on our way to
Edgerton.
Don Vctor, whats the time?
No idea, son. How does ten oclock sound to you?
Sounds about right, I guess.
Jeh, what do you say to this: instead of going on this very
minute, why dont we stop at some roadside place and buy us some
Mexican sausage, chorizo and some eggs to keep em company?
With wheat flour tortillas?
With wheat flour tortillas.
And with a Big Red strawberry soda?
And with a Big Red strawberry soda.
Hot Damn! This is the life.
The old International semi-coughed, complained and hacked a
bit, but it fired up just the same. Don Vctor headed it on the way
to Edgerton where Don Vctors brother would be waitingand
thinking, most probablythat Don Vctor had stopped off some
place to have himself a drink or two.
Jeh Malacara rested his head on the window pane looking at
the glare which bounced off the glass. He closed his eyes for a
moment and dropped off to sleep before he knew it.
The Valley 15
16
ON-THE-JOB TRAINING
Hey, now, Jeh, you better take-a-close hold on that chain,
there; dont give it any slack, hear? Now, you be ready to jump in
case it comes loose or something cause you could wind up getting
your neck broken or lose an eye or somethin. Got that? Yeah, thats
it; thats the way . . . Right . . . Remember now, dont you let it go
slack none; get it to move out, but keep it tight . . . itll start mov-
ing on its own in a minute. The weight of it, see? Nudge it a bit.
There! Comes off real easy-like, doesnt it? See that post right
behind you? Okay, swing that old chain round it; thats the way.
Look, Ill do the same on this post here, and then well do the rest
o them together, and before you know it, the tentll be ready to go
up. Youll get the hang of it; it wont take someone like you very
long.
Don Vctor, when are Don Camilo and Doa Chucha coming
back?
Cant be too long . . . well get the permit for the parade and
the two-week run here like we always do: Camilo always calls on
Don Manuel, hes the local cop here, then Camilo tells him how
long we plan to be here, puts down a deposit for the permits, gives
him half a dozen passes for the show and thats it; nothing to it,
really. Hey, you through with that? Good, come on, now, lets go
on over to the ticket booth and see how youre coming along with
your talk and all; you got that piece memorized yet? Its fairly
long, you know.
You think I ought to use that megaphone there?
Let me see that thing . . . Nah, you dont need this. Go on.
Take off, Jeh.
You think so?
Well, you cant very well tell whats inside that melon till you
plug it.
Thats true, too, I guess . . . Wellp, here goes . . .
The Valley 17
Don Vctor Pelez boosted Jeh Malacara up the platform, and
the youngster mounted a footstool; once up there, he began to clap
with his hands over his head, the way Don Camilo did it at all the
daily performances.
What Jeh was going to say or whoever said whatever was
going to be said, mattered very little since 1) the carny consisted
of one, and only one, tent; and 2) the people were going to show
up anyway; but St. Thomas, I think it was, once said that the force
of habit is what forges tradition and that no right thinking person
will go against that without suffering some consequences.
Frankly, now, what Jeh was going to say was nothing new
either, but people dont appreciate your springing surprises on
them or youre going around breaking their old habits for them;
thats something they prefer to do on their own. Jeh Malacara
(with Don Vctors help) was to realize this as time went on, and
as will be seen in due time.
Okay, son, fire away . . .
Jeh nodded, and he began.
Ladies and gentlemen! Kind sirs and madams! Distinguished
members and lovers of the arts, esteemed ticket-holders and lastly,
children of all ages! Make way, friends! Line up, now, and watch
those elbowsno pushing, hear! And, please! Quiet everybody!
Im about to start: The Pelez Tent Show, the cleanest and most
moral of all tent shows; the one and the only real, genuine Pelez
Tent Showthe most prestigious, the one youve selected above
all others, is happy, proud, pleased to present an unforgettable per-
formance! A clean, sanitary, fast-moving show for the entire fam-
ily! Listen to this: A stellar three-and-one-complete half-hour per-
formance! What do you say to that, ladies and gentlemen?
Three-and-one-half-hours of fun, happiness, martial music, somer-
saults and a high-wire act, to boot! Yes! Thrill at the Divine Tere
Pelez sitting-a-top a trapeze at over forty feet above the ground
why, thats twenty meters or more, good people of Klail City! See-
ing is believing, yessir! And no pushing, please! Theres enough
seats for all. Thrills, yes! and chills; come one, come all, and just
dont lag behind, folks, come and see and enjoy and laugh at Don
Chema! Don Chon! and Don Ciriaco! Laugh with Doa Lolita and
Don Cuco, and, and, and Doa Cuca, yes, she, too, is here and she
brought her keen-eyed dog: Black Spot, brought all the way from
Mexicos Federal District, that great nations capital city. Yes!
Black Spot, the smartest, the cleverest and best-trained . . . and lis-
ten to this: the most educated dog in the world and in all of the vis-
ible planets of our present universe! What do you say to that! No
expense has been spared, NO SIR! Dont you dare miss this per-
formance you knowledgeable, discriminating and highly informed
public of Klail City, Texas, the most beautiful and certainly the
most important city in the Valley! Come this way, this very
moment, right through here, see for yourself, and honor us, the
Pelez Tent Show, with your honoring presence, friends! Remem-
ber, now, three-and-a-half hours of good, plain, clean, funget
your tickets here, RIGHT HERE! Tere will not only sell them,
shell also cut them in half for you! Yes, she will! Careful, now,
and do watch your step cause theres not many tickets left, but we
wont start without you . . . And now? What do you hear? Yes!
Music! Music from our own selected band, ladies and gentlemen,
lovers and sweethearts from Klail City, right this way where youll
be seated in comfortable chairs painted and numbered individual-
ly by me, Jeh Malacara. Yes, I, your humble servant with paint
and brush did em to a turn! Ho! Ho! and dont forget: we have
delicious milk candy with milk made from only the wildest and
bravest cows! American candy, too, and national delicacies as well
and popcorn with plenty of homemade butter in tri-colored bags of
all sizes plus our solid guarantee that our candy is made fresh
daily: taffy, licorice, candy canes with anise, caramel and now the
newest novelty from the American manufacturing houses: milk
shakes in individual cartons with straws attached for your own per-
sonal hygienic use! What do you say to that? Is there more? Yes!
Yes! Yes! and only because this is the Pelez Tent Show, your
18 Rolando Hinojosa
favorite of favorites, according to the latest polls! Now, ladies and
gentlemen, let me direct you . . .
Hold it, Jeh, thats enough. Now, this evening, you just get
on that little stool there, jump up and down on one leg, do a som-
ersault or two and watch Camilo go through the routine again. You
got talent, kid; lets not waste it.
You like it, eh?
Absolutely. Lets go check those posts and chains again; after
that, lets see if we can come up with some empty beer bottles for
Leocadios marimba.
The empty bottles would be rinsed, soaped, washed again and
then filled with water to some determined levels to give off musi-
cal sounds when struck with rubber mallets, like the ones the doc-
tors use. Leocadio Tovar (on the stage: Don Chon) huffed and
puffed in the brass section, but when it came to playing the marim-
ba (the mallets were his, and his alone) he had decided long ago
that talent would never get in the way of gusto. And, of course, his
never did.
The Valley 19
20
BUT SINCE HE DIED
I was going on my third year with the Pelez Show under the
patient and paternal guidance of Don Vctor when Death came
calling again.
Don Vctor, a tall man, and remarkably thin for a beer drinker
(class which, ordinarily, runs to fat) was an upright, honest man
who took his liquor, his friendships and his responsibilities
straight, which is to say, without benefit of water.
It was because of him that I learned to read and, later on, to
love the habit of reading; I started off by reading labels from
patent medicine bottles and medicinal herb cartons and, still later
on, he provided me with newspapers and magazines of all types
and sorts; in short, I read whatever came my way.
Now, if my comings and goings (as Satan almost says: up and
down and in the streets of Relmpago) had taught me something,
my formal training and education, and what social manners I had
come up with, were due, in no small part, to that man.
An early veteran of the Revolucin, Don Vctor and an old
compadre of his from the state of Coahuila (Don Aurelio Alemn)
bought and sold horses as a sideline; one of their ventures was with
Don Jess Carranza, a brother of Don Venustiano.
Back there, in the Spring of 1920, Don Vctor, a lieutenant
colonel at that time, was stationed in the Papantla, Veracruz, Mili-
tary District; his stay in the Veracruz and Potos Huasteca regions
was of short duration, and part of my readings came from notes
and attempts at a diary which he kept off and on during his stay
there. It was through these readings, then, that I learned of Don
Vctors marriage to La Samaniego, a daughter and descendant of
one of those old Mexican Jewish families. Later on, Don Camilo
himself told me that Don Vctors wife and their son, Saul, and
another one as yet unborn, died as a result of the Spanish influen-
za that (too literally) decimated families, towns and municipios
during the years 1919, 20, and 21. Something along the lines of
the virulent smallpox epidemics that spread among the armies and
general populace from 1916 to 17.
What follows is part of Don Vctors diary; I assume full
responsibility for its order (or lack of it) and for a touch-up here
and there (commas and the like) although no changes were made
in the content, which, after all, is as it should be.
The part here included, by the way, consists of notes taken and
set down in the Papantla Military District as well as in Mexico
City.
c c c
Papantla, Ver., 23 May 20
Bad news does travel faster, as they say; word just came in that
our fellow Coahuilan, Don Venustiano Carranza, has been shot and
killed. No news on whos responsible yet, but well know that
and soonsince it happened in this military district. My compadre
A., has come up with 27 fresh horses: Mirillas is prob. our best bet
as a buyer; my share in this ought to be a healthy one. Well see.
Gen. Rodolfo Herrero has been placed in house arrest under
heavy guard; orders came right from Gen. Lzaro Crdenas as
Commanding General; the word is that Herrero is the prime sus-
pect in Don Venus death.
General Manuel vila Camacho sent for me early this morn-
ing. Orders: as of this very instant, Im to be in charge, as he said,
of the prisoner Herrero. All I can say is that now with M.A.C. as
Chief of the General Staff, the Huasteca Mil. Dist. has two choic-
es: bend or break. It will either tighten up on its soldiering from
The Valley 21
within or old M.A.C. himself will do it for them; whichever,
theres going to be a lot of plain soldiering or theyll just have to
start taking their meals in the stockades.
Indian Vela took my civilian clothes out of mothballs; Im to
wear them during off-duty in Mexico City; M.A.C.s orders will be
posted in short order, and I am to be ready to go to M. City when
the time comes.
Nihil novum sub et supra sole, and Obregns finished his
northern swing for the upcoming elections.
Orders: First leg, Jalapa, where Im to pick up eight of the tried
and true: Special guard personnel and reliable, Im told. Earlier
this evening, Pepe Figueroa, a newly assigned civilian attorney on
the General Staff took me aside and said that Don Venus was
betrayed and thus stabbed in the back literally and figuratively.
Well, first off, President Carranza was shot, not stabbed, and of
course he was betrayed! Does Figueroa think that Herrero and his
group asked permission before they shot the old man? For the life
of me, I dont understand why anyone in the Gen. Staff could care
to listen to anything that Figueroa has to say . . . The horse-trading
arrangement is looking better every day; A. says to add another 27
horses to our last count, and that makes it 307. Not bad.
Jalapa, Ver., 2 June 20
Got five of the eight I came for; two are on 20-day leave and
one in the local military hospital but hardly for heroism: hemor-
rhoids due to an overindulgence of cactus pears. As my compadre
A. says: Those pearsll get you both ways.
Papantla, Ver., 4 June 20
The five I brought back from Jalapa: Evaristo Garrido H.,
Relmpago, Texas, E.U.A.; Santos Leal Cant, Cadereyta
22 Rolando Hinojosa
The Valley 23
Jimnez, N.L.; Armando Snchez Villagmez, Jalostotitln, Jal.;
Jess Balderas, Atenguillo, Jal.; and, Juan de Dios Regelta,
Soliseo, Tamps. Old-line regulars: good, tough and disciplined.
These five plus the eleven I picked from here are all I need to take
Herrero to Mexico City tomorrow. Early this morning, Indian Vela
told me that Herrero was also mixed up with Guajardo in the Za -
pata assassination a little over a year ago. Probably was.
Were off to M. City tomorrow morning, and Gen. Crdenas is
of the party; he may be in for a promotion. Note: special train, spe-
cial crew; set to leave at 3 a.m.
Mexico City, l0 June 20
Told Felix Cceres I wouldnt be going out tonight; I cant
recall a worse hangovernor a longer one. It mustve been that
bourbon whiskey from the U.S.sweetish and sticks to the palate
somehow. But talk about a hangover! From now on Im sticking to
brandy from Coah., or to tequila from Jal.
Putting in for a leave just as soon as this affair with Herrero is
over.
Mexico City, 18 June 20
Ten days in this place and nothing to report. Telegram from my
compadre A. Good news: money in the bank and waiting for us.
Part of my share is going toward that piece of land near Bella
Unin. Im 33 years of age, been in this war some eight years now,
and Ive gotten four things out of it: 3 bullet holes below the knee
and now this money which my compadre will be sending along.
Knock at the door: Indian Vela just came in with news: Told
him to pack. The judge of instruction closed shop today: NOTH-
ING! No resolution whatsoever. The judge had thrown up his
hands and said there was nothing he could verify or contradict
between what either Murgua said or what Herrero contested.
Herrero claims Don Venus committed suicide: four bullet
wounds they found. Some suicide.
Mexico City, 23 June 20
Telegram from Gen. M.A.C.
15 DAYS LEAVE STOP REPORT PAPANTLA 9 JULY STOP
ENJOY STOP CHIEF GENERAL STAFF MANUEL AVILA
CAMACHO PAPANTLA VERACRUZ
Papantla, Ver., 11 July 20
Letter from La: the priest is pestering her about baptizing Sal
at the local parish. Hes just going to have to wait until Im home to
stay. Id no idea that there was still a church standing in Arteaga. It
seems to me that the Dvila brothers blew it up or burned it down
around the time of that so-called barracks revolt in Saltillo back in
13. I remember seeing one of those bandits in Culiacn: tongue
sticking out right there where One-eyed Melguizo hanged him to a
lamp post. Old One-eyed Marco Antonio Melguizo . . . it was Lucio
Blanco himself who said that Melguizo was one of Gods little
unfinished products; a case of being underdone, as it were: hes got
that one eye, hes short three fingers on one hand and two on the
other; his left legs shorter than the right one, and, when excited, he
stammers, stutters, before he gets going. What Melguizo has, and
no mistake, is a fierce personal loyalty to Lucio Blanco plus a pair
of brass balls & nerves of steel. Will I ever again be or soldier ever
again with those good Northern compadres of mine?
Mexico City, 14 July 20
Here I am back in the capital city again. Had a ten-minute
briefing yesterday just prior to leaving the Huasteca region; Gen.
vila Camacho came by to wish me luck. Am being transferred to
Calles general staff; Gen. Crdenas is counting on me not to let
them down. He and M.A.C. wrote letters of recommendation.
Thats some Gen. Staff that old Arabs come up with. Well see.
No complaints about the accommodations here; its a family
hotel, clean and cheap.
24 Rolando Hinojosa
Ran into some Northerners; most are from Sonora (as one
would expect) the rest are from Nuevo Len and Tamaulipas; bor-
derers all. Wethe Coahuilansare more reticent; apart. But: we
do share the Northern states experience, and this helps.
One of them, Cosme Elizondo Carvajal is a first cousin to my
compadre A. Three civilian attorneys dined with us last night;
youngsters all in their early twenties. By the looks of them, they
mustve been around twelve or fourteen years old during the Daz
Madero era. And now? Why, theyre more revolutionary than the
Founders of the Revolution. Oh, well.
Saw the clothes worn by Madero and Pino Surez that night in
1913 when they were both shot to death; Grau showed them to me.
Grau said the clothes had been found in one of the cellars of the old
penitentiary . . . From the evidence, Pino Surez was shot four times
in the back, on the left side; a neat pattern from the holes I saw; point
blank, most prob. It started then, with Huerta and that sorry lot of his.
La is unable to join me here; the babys due sometime in the
Spring, and well have to wait till then. My father-in-law sent me
a Swiss watch with matching gold chain. Showing them off
tonight . . .
Indian Vela brought the Orders of the Day for my signature and
was surprised to find me up, writing and ready to drive over to the
Citadel. First meetings at 7: it certainly looks as if the Villa affair
is not to be resolved anytime soon. At least not peacefully. War? I
think soif its a shooting war again, I hope its localized. For the
life of me, I cant understand how the Mexican population can
stand it or put up with it.
Heres a coincidence for you: brushing my hair and from out of
the blue, I thought about the Zapata assassination, & then within half
The Valley 25
an hour, I received a copy of a telegram from a friend in Monterrey:
Guajardo was court-martialed and then shot by a firing squad.
Why a firing squad? They had all the time in the world: they
could have just as well hanged him instead.
c c c
As said, and corroborated by don Camilo as well, his brother
lost his family as a consequence of the Spanish influenza. First off,
Don Vctor took a three month medical leave and then retired soon
after; his military pension was a modest one, and he returned to
Arteaga, Coahuila; he remained in that mountain village for five
years and never once in all of that time did he go to Saltillo, a mere
15km. away.
When Don Vctor decided to end his self-imposed exile, he
emigrated to the United States. As many others before himand
afterward as well, he crossed the river not far from Klail City, in
the heart of the Ro Grande Valley. As his beneficiary, I received a
share of the pension until one month past my twenty-first birthday.
Irony: I received the pension checks during my thirty-six month
U.S. Army stint.
Age and the aging process never caught up with Don Vctor,
according to his brother; and the vitality of the man was there, pal-
pable, even. When I first met him, and when he took me in, as pre-
dicted by my Aunt Chedes, hed been kicking up and down the
Valley for some eight-nine years with his brothers troupe.
26 Rolando Hinojosa
27
THREE YEARS WRAPPED IN ONE
TWENTY-FOUR-HOUR DAY
Don Vctor died in the town of Flora; of which more later.
After so many peripeteia, it was rheumatism and the chronic liver
problems which finally brought the man down.
The Habanita Tent Show people and the Furriel Bros. Tent
(Vickys group) paid their respects as well: each company struck the
tents, cancelled the shows for that day, and witnessed the burial.
As for me, well, I broke down and cried about as much as when
Ma died, and just as heartfelt. The next day, the Pelez Tent Show
loaded up and pointed toward Ruffing, but I decided to stay there, in
Flora; Death again, orphaned again, and again lying to with sails set.
28
FLORA
(and why skirt the obvious?) is so called because Rufus T. Klail,
guiding light and founder of Klail City, had an only daughter by
that name. Some dear hearts say that the town of Flora reflects the
same barren aspect of its namesake (who never married): dry,
insipid, meaner than the word mean and with what Sheridan called
a damned disinheriting countenance.
In Flora, Belken County Texas, many years ago, a train struck
and killed some thirty people in a farm truck on their way to work
in the fields. One of the survivors, Beto Castaeda, a youngster at
the time, hailed from Klail City. Years later he married Marta
Cordero, only daughter of the late Albino Cordero. What follows
isnt about Beto at all; it concerns the town of Flora itself (one of
those wide angle mass portraits) and about what happened there on
the occasion of Bruno Canos funeral.
Make no mistake, the Flora mexicanos do love foofaraws: the
larger and the noisier, the better. They celebrate beauty contests for
just about every Saints Day in the calendar; theyve got themselves
a Mexican Chamber of Commerce, and theyre forever holding
open air public dances and then they forget to pay the band; also,
they organize those seventy-two-hour bingo marathons in the local
mission, and if something doesnt need fixing, theyll fix it, and then
stand in line to charge you for it.
You know the kind, so why go on?
29
BRUNO CANO: LOCK, STOCK AND BBL.
Hold your horses right there, Father. What do you mean
youre not about to bury him?
Yeah, what about that, Don Pedroeverybodys entitled to at
least one burial.
Not from me, theyre not.
But youre the mission priest, Don Pedro.
Well, Don Pedro?
Listen, you two: you want Cano buried? You bury him. The
Church sure wont.
The Church wont bury him?
Yeah, what do you mean that the Church wont bury him?
(Smiling.) Listen very carefully: Im not about to bury him,
and the Church certainly wont. Is that clearer now?
But youve got to.
Look! He swore at me, and Im a priest, but dont forget, Im
also a mana full-fledged manof the cloth, true, but a man, for
all that.
Who says any different?
Right, Don Pedroyoure a man, and a good oneand a
friend to Bruno Cano.
Just hold it right there, you two. Not only did he swear at me,
he then soiledhear?soiled my sainted mothers good name.
Yes, he did.
The man had been drinking, Don Pedro.
Thats right, he was overwrought.
Overwrought? Overwrought? See here, the man yelled,
shrieked, screamed bloody murder at me. And what did I do? I
prayed for him.
He was drunk, Don Pedro. Come on, what do you say?
A short service, Don Pedro. Shorter than short.
No . . . I . . .
Go on, Don Pedro.
Look, well all have a drink afterwards. Im buying.
Well . . .
Come on; weve got him over at Salinas place; well take him
to the church, and . . .
No! No church. Absolutely not. No, no, no!
All right, all right, no church, then. Tell you what, though:
from Salinas place right to the cemetery.
And what about the hole?
Dont worry about it, well get it done in time.
All right, but listen very carefully, you two: from German
Salinas place to the cemetery, and thats it. Now, wheres Jeh?
Im going to need him for the response. Remember, now, no
church.
No church.
Thank you, Don Pedro; Ill send someone to locate Jeh for
you.
No ones to know bout this. Got that? No one; fifteen min-
utes, and down he goes to . . .
Thank you, Don Pedro, youre most kind.
Yeah, dont you worry none and thanks, kay?
The two men left the rectory and headed for the center of town;
they neither spoke to nor looked at each other or their fellow
townsmen. When they came up to Germn Salinas cantina, they
found that Canos body was still in the beer locker.
Good, keep him there for a while longer. We bring good news,
as the brother says. We got ourselves a funeral, boys; now, some-
one call the Vega brothers and tell them we want their biggest
hearse, thats the maroon one with the gray curtains, got that?
Now, as for the rest of you, you know what to do: get at that
hole, and spread the word.
30 Rolando Hinojosa
Don Bruno Cano, a native of Cerralvo, Nuevo Leon, Mexico,
and a resident of Flora, Texas, U.S.A., a widower, childless and
with no visible or apparent progeny, died (according to the death
certificate issued at graveside) of a myocardial infarct that left him
like a possum in sull. Now, those who knew Cano au fond said he
died of other causes: greed, mostly, and an uncontrollable pen-
chant for skinning his fellowman.
The night Cano died, he and a sometime friend of his named
Melitn Burnias had agreed to dig up a plot of ground which
belonged to Doa Panchita Zurez, bone healer, midwife and gen-
eral gynecological factotum (G.G.F.) and a fare-the-well mender
of pre owned virgos belonging to some of the neighborhood girls
of all ages; virginity is a strict requirement in Flora and thus, we
have a simple case of supply and demand.
Now, Auntie Panchita did, in fact, own the plot used for dig-
ging, and the Flora typesto a mansaid there was gold buried
there or near there.
The relacin, a local usage for treasure, had been there,
according to some, since 1) the time of don Jos Escandn, first
explorer and later first colonizer of the Valley, who died with the
title given him by the Spanish Crown: el Conde de Cerro Gordo,
and whose honored name, etc. etc; 2) since the time of General
Santa Anna (Antonio Lpez de, 1795?-1876); Mex. Revolutionist
and general; president (1833-1835; 1841-1844; 1846-47; 1853-
55). Involved in the War for Texas Indep., the Mexican-American
War and under whose leadership Mexico lost the so-called Gadsen
Purchase, not to mention the etc. and etc. and the etc.; 3) since yes-
terday, a conventional term when speaking of the Mexican Revo-
lution (that grand and glorious Crusade for Justice, whose many
advantages present-day Mexico now enjoys, etc. etc.) when some
greedy-blood-sucking-merchant types who brought gold with
them escaping the armies of etc. and etc. And etc., too. Well, the
upshot of all this is that one day Bruno Cano and Burnias, a drink-
here-a-drink-there, agreed to form an ad hoc partnership as others
The Valley 31
32 Rolando Hinojosa
had in the past to look for the gold that was surely there, had to be
there, etc. etc.
The clincher this time was that Melitn Burnias claimed and
swore he had recently memorized some infallible prayers for mak-
ing the earth surrender its buried treasure.
Its difficult to picture more unlikely partners than these two:
Cano, plump and running to fat, pink in color, snug with a dollar,
and a successful merchant as well as the sole owner of a slaugh-
terhouse called The Golden Fleece. Summary: one of Floras
most illustrious citizens. Not so Burnias. Burnias was somewhat
deaf, on the short side, an indifferent careerist, and
thin and dry / dry / dry
as goat droppings in July.
To add to this, he was worse off than penniless: he was con-
stantly, endlessly, irreversibly poor. He had high hopes, but he also
had bad luck, as we say in Belken. For example, when Tila, his
eldest girl, ran off with Prxedes Cervera, they were back within the
week and, in tandem, the two carried Burnias out to the street and
left him there. The man, and this is gospel, shrugged his shoulders,
dusted himself off and went to find a place to sleep, which he did:
the watermelon patch. That same night, it rained like hail. Burnias,
however, was not avariciousdidnt even know the meaning of the
wordwhich may explain why Bruno Cano chose him as a partner
in the search for the relacin; the prayers came as a bonus.
And there they were, at Salinas place, the two of them drink-
ing awaywith Bruno buyingwhen they were both brought
back to earth by the cuckoo clock: eleven oclock! Hey! We gotta
get goin here! So, out the two partners went to hunt for their picks
and shovels and whatnot to try their luck at Doa Panchitas lot.
It mustve been around three a.m. with Bruno digging and
throwing dirt out and Burnias spreading it around the best he could
when there came a sound like t-o-n-k! Bruno looked up and then
continued to dig some more when t-o-n-k! and he dug some more
and that tonk was followed by another and yet another.
Melitn! Melitn! Didnt you just hear that? I think were get-
tin close!
What was that?
Close! I said were gettin close here.
A ghost? Near, did you say?
What? What did you say? A ghost? Where-a-ghost? Here?
There-a-ghost? Oh, dear! My God, my God, its clear!
A ghost is clear? Is that what you said, goddamit? Melitn?
What are you doing? Melitn! Answer me!
A ghost? Bruno, I gotta get outta here!
A ghost? Did that idiot . . . Jesus! Did he say a ghost! Jesus,
save me, Lord!
By this time, Burnias was headed straight for the melon patch
and making good time. Cano, for his part, began to scream for
help, but Burnias was out of earshot by then: he had cleared two
fences clean, had jumped across three fairly wide puddles without
trying and he was then chased by most of the neighborhood dogs.
One of them strayed off the chase and sniffed near the hole; Cano
looked up, saw something and he heard a growl. That did it: Cano
not only heard the ghost, he had seen it!
The dog finished his business, turned around and scratched the
ground around him, and some fell on Bruno.
Help! Heeeeeelp! Help me, goddamit! Sorry, Lord. Jesus
Christ, get me out of here! Help me, help me out there, some-
body!
It was close to five oclock now, and here came Don Pedro
Zamudio, Floras one and only mission priest, wending his way to
matins when he heard Brunos screams and cries and curses for
help. Don Pedro walked in that direction, peered down the hole
and said:
Who are you? Whats going on down there?
Is that really you, Don Pedro? This is me, Cano. Help me up,
will ya?
What are you up to in this part o town?
The Valley 33
Look, get me out o here, and then well talk, kay?
Are you all right? Did you injure yourself when you fell
down?
What? No, no, I didnt fall down here . . . Come on, help me
up.
All in good time, all in good time. Now, tell me, how was it
you wound up down there, and are you sure youre not hurt in
some way? I was sure I heard some screa . . .
(Interruption) That was me, but Im okay, really. Now, for
Gods sake, hurry up and get me the hell . . . sorry.
And what was it you were about to say, my son? (Knowingly)
Nothing, Reverend Father, sirjust get me out o this hole.
Please.
Well, its this way: Id like to, but I dont think I can, you
know. I mean, you are a little, ah, heavy, ah, a little fat, you know.
Fat? Faa-aaaaat? Your Mamas the fat one!
My whaaaaaaat?
Your mother! thats who! That cow! Now, get me the hell out
o here! Do it!
Speaking of mothers (sweetly), friend Cano, maybe yours can
get you out o that hole!
Why, you pug-nosed, pop-eyed, overripe, overbearing,
overeating, wine-swilling, son-of-a-bitch! You do your duty as a
priest!
I will, my son, I will, he purred. With this, Don Pedro knelt
at the edge of the hole: First, a rapid sign of the Cross, and skip-
ping the Our Father altogether, Don Pedro started out on the one
about . . . clasp, o Lord, this sinner to your breast and then
Bruno let go with another firm reminder of Don Pedros mother.
This time, the reminder was as plain as West Texas and the birds
stopped at mid trill. For his part, Don Pedro wearing a resigned
beatific smile, dug deep and came up with his rosary and, rather
unexpectedly, started on the Mass for the Dead; this was just
entirely too much for Cano and what started as a low growl
34 Rolando Hinojosa
exploded into a high-piercing scream directed, variously, at Don
Pedro, his innocent mother and any and all relatives dead, living
and to come. Cano then gathered another lungful of air at the time
that Don Pedro jumped up and extended his arms to form a cross,
and, not to be outdone, screamed out: . . . and do take this sinner
to your . . . but Cano did not rejoin; in fact, Cano was still catch-
ing his breath or trying to, and by the time Don Pedro finished his
latest prayer, he leaned over the hole and asked, Now, do you see?
Prayers do bring inner peace, dont they? Theyve stilled your
anger, my son, and tempered both our faiths. Rest easy, the sun
will soon be coming up, and so will you.
Bruno was past caring. Somewhere just after one of the mys-
teries or one of Brunos motherly recollections, Bruno stopped
breathing and thus delivered his uneasy soul to the Lord, the Devil
or to Don Pedros mother. Or to none of the above.
As may be supposed, no less than thirty of us witnessed, so to
speak, the sunrise tableau, but wed all kept a respectful distance
while the one chanted and the other ranted.
But, be that as it may, Bruno Cano was buried, and in sacred
ground, to boot. To Don Pedros keen disappointment, the funeral
was more than well-attended; and, the damn thing was over seven
hours long.
Four orators showed up unannounced but dressed to the teeth:
black flower, white hat, gold book, and serious as Hell. Then there
were the four choirs (a boys choir, a girls choir, one made up of
older women, members all of the Perpetual Candle and, the fourth
one, an all-male choir from the Sacred Heart Parish from Edger-
ton; all four choirs were in rigorous white for the occasion, and
one would have thought that this was Easter, but no such thing).
The Vega Bros. brought Brunos body in that wine-colored
hearse of theirs; the one with the gray curtains. Besides Don Pedro,
there were twelve of us who served as acolytes, and there we were,
The Valley 35
36 Rolando Hinojosa
in white-collared black chasubles heavily starched with backsides
to match.
People from all over the Valley got word that something was
up in Flora and there they came in trucks, bikes, hitchhiking, while
the more enterprising ones from Klail leased a Greyhound that
already had some people in it who had boarded the bus back in
Bascom, and they too joined the crowd.
Three candy men appeared and immediately opened up shop:
it was a hot one, and they started selling snow cones left and right.
The crowd was later estimated, quite conservatively, I thought, at
some four thousand. Some didnt know who was being buried.
Most didnt care, of course, had never heard of Cano, but you
know how things usually turn out: peoplell use anything for an
excuse to get out of the house.
As for Don Pedro, well, he had to take it, and he came through
with no less than three hundred Our Fathers, between Hail Marys,
Hail Holy Queens, etc. And, when he began to cry (anger, hyste-
ria, hunger) the crowd understood, or thought it did: they dedicat-
ed their prayers to Don Pedro and to Don Pedros dear, departed
friend, the respectable whats-his-name. At this juncture, up
jumped the orators again having gotten their respective second
winds, and each repeated their eulogies and then they began to
compete with one another until a time limit was set; this helped to
settle them down.
The candy men couldnt keep up with the demand, and each
one ordered another hundred pounds of ice; the ice company
charged more for delivery and thus the price increase was passed
on to the consumer who was not getting any more syrup, the candy
men having run out almost from the start. It mattered little since
the people didnt care, and one could hear the chant for blocks
around: ice, ice, ice, they cried.
Not to be outdone, the choirs, having run through all their
songs and hymns, sensed a God-given opportunity and crossed the
line to join forces with the others, and the first thing you know,
The Valley 37
they broke out with Tanturn Ergo which was out of place and
worse, Come, Good Shepherd, Celestial Redeemer . . . heard
only around Easter time. Finally, the four groups began taking
requests.
Now, despite the heat, the dust, the pushing and the shoving,
the crowd behaved itself, considering; there were some frayed
nerves here and there, and more shouting than necessary and then
there were those thirty-four who fainted, but, all in all, it was a first
class funeral.
As it turned out, about the only person missing from all this
was Melitn Burnias. As he said, days later: I was quite busy on
some personal business, and I was unable to get away to give
Bruno a proper farewell. I, ah, well . . . ah, you know, it . . .
Almost everyone pretended they had no idea what it was he
was mumbling about, and let it go at that.
Rafe Buenrostro
Delineations for a first portrait with sketches and
photographs (individually and severally)
The Valley 41
Chano Ortega, born and raised in Klail City, died of abdominal
wounds received in June 1944, during the invasion of France. A
quarter of a century later, his mother, Tina Ruiz de Ortega, walks
the streets of Klail with no idea what it was her son was doing, as
she says, in those Europes over there.
What follows is for them and for a select few.
Miss Moy, our first-grade teacher, a mass of red hair and freck-
les hated it at First Ward School; she was forever washing and
soaking her hands in alcohol and then drying them off with dis-
posable napkins. Somehow she managed to teach me to read.
The next year we were transferred to Miss Bunns room where
quiet and sullen inactivity were the order of the day, and with
everydays routine being the same. One day, she decided to ask
Lucy Ramrez what it was she had for breakfast that morning: and
Lucy, trying to please, lied:
Orange juice, Miss Bunn, with buttered toast and jelly, and
two scrambled eggs. I looked at the free book covers they gave us:
she was reading What Every Young Child Should Eat for Break-
fast. Poor thing.
Thank you, Lucy. And you, Leo? Did you have the same?
Leo Pumarejo looked at Lucy and then smiled at Miss Bunn:
No, Miss Bunn, what I ate for breakfast was one flour tortilla
WITH PLENTY OF PEANUT BUTTER!
42 Rolando Hinojosa
Hilario Borrego, he lived in another section of Klail City, either
bumped or pushed me, and when I got up: I bloodied his nose for
him. It happened during recess when Leo and I had taken over the
slide. If you came from our neighborhood, up you went; if you
werent, you were out of luck. It was a short, one-punch fight, but
someone told his mother; the next day, during recess again, she
walked across the yard and slapped me flush in the face.
I was seven then, and I remember that I cried for a long time.
But, it was a personal affair: I didnt say a word at home. The rest
of the year, though, I went after Hilario while Leo kept an eye out
for the old hag.
Times were hard and things were bad.
When a city employee came to the Ponce household to shut
their water lines, several families came to see what that was all
about. The city employee tried to smile his way through, and look-
ing at Doa Trini Ponce, he blurted out three or four words in some
very broken Spanish. Doa Trini wasnt having any, and looking
straight at him, she recommended he gargle with a glass full of
bird droppings.
Life is fairly cheap in Flora, and if youre a Texas mexicano, its
even cheaper than that: Van Meers shot young Ambrosio Mora on
a bright, cloudless afternoon, and in front of no less than fifteen wit-
nesses.
It took the People of the State of Texas some five years to pre-
pare the case against him, and when it did, the State witnesses
spoke on behalf of Van Meers and against the victim.
The Valley 43
In the Valley, the few Lebanese who live there are called
arabs for want of a better name. One of these Arabs had a fruit
stand, and every night hed pick a few of us to move some 200
bushels of fresh fruit away from the sidewalk and into his store.
And you know how he paid us? With rotten fruit, thats how.
The man was a son-of-a-bitch, of course, but what made it
worse was that damfools that we were, we never complained.
In Edgerton, a man armed with a knife lunged at my father and
me; we had no idea who he was, but my father then shot at the
man. On the way to Klail City long after statements and etc., my
father told me not to say anything about the incident right away;
the news would get known at home soon enough.
We arrived, and I didnt say a word; trouble was that it wasnt
long before I developed a stammer and, soon after, I came up with
a very high fever. Had it not been for Auntie Panchita and her
prayers, I might have never recovered.
Tacha was a very old woman who lived in the alley behind our
home; when she died, my cousin Jeh and I went to see her. There
was no one in attendance when we got there, and we could see and
smell the cotton swabs in her ears, mouth and nostrils.
Jeh said he was brave enough to touch her, and he did. Stand-
ing there, he reached into his back pocket, and pulled out an old
Indian head penny. He held it between his thumb and index finger
and made the sign of the cross across her body; its a good luck
penny now, he said.
44 Rolando Hinojosa
Pius V Reyes was buried in the mexicano Protestant cemetery
just east of Bascom. I cant recall why my father took me with him,
but he did; and it was cold, too cold for October in the Valley, I
thought. We drove back to Bascom, and he took me to a house
owned by some relatives Id never met; I was served flank steak,
flour tortillas and my very first cup of coffee. Ranch style, they
said: instead of sugar, they used Karo syrup and no cream.
As I sat there on a straight chair, the women present took turns
placing the palms of their hands on my face to ward off, they said,
el mal de ojo, the eye of evilness.
I didnt believe in the curse of the evil eye, but ever since Aunt
Panchita had cured me of fright and dread, I went along . . . I
didnt know what to believe.
Aside from a public library and a stopped-up swimming pool,
there were two cafs on Ruffings main street along with some beat
up buildings. One of the cafs didnt allow Texas mexicanos in
while the other one did; now, it could be that the first would allow
us entry but no service which comes to the very same thing. My
father and I were in the second one when I spotted a black family,
man and wife, and two boys just about or a little over my own age.
Dad turned to me and said that black folks would only be served
in the kitchen, if there. I didnt understand that part of it, and he
repeated once and then again.
On the way home, I wondered how the black man had first
explained it to his own kids when they entered the kitchen for service.
The Valley 45
One afternoon, after school, Jeh and I were so very busy talk-
ing and listening to one another that neither one of us noticed a
man walking the white line in the middle of the street; he was car-
rying a twenty-four-pound sack of wheat flour. As we came up, he
stopped, wheeled around, ran and then threw the sack at us. Later
on we learned that apart from being drunk, the man had been
smoking marihuana cigars and cigarettes all afternoon.
Along those lines, a neighborhood boy, older, but not much
older than either Jeh or I, became insane. The family owned a
printing shop and, during the day, kept him inside their home, in
the rear of the shop. He escaped by breaking a window, and I hap-
pened to run into him on my way back from a grocery errand; I
was carrying a milk bottle, and when I saw him, I dropped the bot-
tle and ran so hard and so fast, I ran past my own house. For a long
while after that, Id go out of my way to do all of the house chores,
and Id even invent some; anything. Anything, but run errands to
the grocery store.
In Monon, Indiana, on the left hand side of Route 421 going
north, theres a roadside place called Myrtles, about two and a half
blocks from a Shell station; we always stopped there to gas up on
the way to Benton Harbor during the cherry picking season. When
we stopped at the Shell station, Dad and I would then walk from
there to Myrtles for some doughnuts. Once, while the woman
waited on us, she told my Dad that I was getting to be a little man
now. Back in the truck once again, Dad turned to me and said,
This makes the sixth time youve made the trip to Michigan, son.
46 Rolando Hinojosa
About a year after my father was killed, we received a formal
esquela, a printed death notice; it was a woman who had died in
Ruffing. I was going on eleven at the time, and I had no idea who
she was. My two brothers and I went to the funeral, and although
Ma didnt attend, she said we had to; an obligation, she said. On
the way to Ruffing, my brother Israel, looking straight ahead, said
that the dead woman was a half-sister of ours; our fathers daugh-
ter by another woman.
I didnt know what to say; I looked at Aaron and then at Israel.
Nothing. Knowing Dad as well as I did or had, and knowing Ma,
too, I realized that, somehow or other, I had lived some ten years
among strangers. And, when we arrived at the wake, the people
there walked the length of the room, shook our hands individually
as we each said and repeated the formulaic phrase of condolence,
again individually; this done, we were given their chairs on the
front row for the remainder of the wake.
Get some ice, hurry! Quickly nowon the forehead; yes. There,
that should help stop the bleeding. No, no, youre going to have to
tilt his head back a bit more, but be careful he doesnt choke, now.
And you? What are you doing just standing there? Dont you see the
shape your little brother is in? I was right all along, I remember
telling your father that you were much too young for a drivers
license. You go straight home, young man, and wait for us there.
Up front, ladies! Front! Here come the first customers of the
day, two young American gentlemen to see us.
Gentlemen? Americans? Shoot, it was just Monche Rivera and
me, and we were going on sixteen at the time; the one I gotor
the other way roundwore a light cotton dress you could see
through; this was my first visit there, and I was game but scared.
The Valley 47
In Korea, out in the field anyway, powdered rations came in two
flavors; after twelve straight days out there, Cayo Daz, mess kit in
hand, walked over from his tank to ours, and said: We get pow-
dered eggs and potatoes for early chow; we get powdered potatoes
and eggs for mid-chow and, then, for late chow, we get a choice of
eggs or potatoes. But I got me a plan. Listen to this: Tomorrow, Im
not going to eat this shit. No, sir. This boy isnt going to clean his
plate. And you want to know whats going to happen if I dont clean
my plate? It means some Chinkll starve to death, at least thats what
they used to say at home all the time. Well, I figure that if I keep this
up long enough, why, I can win the goddam war all by myself.
Cayo Daz and a kid named Balderas and I went on our first
Rest and Recuperation to Japan; the Southern guys in the outfit
called them I and I for intercourse and intoxication . . . At that
time, our recon unit was attached to the Triple Nickle, 555 Field
Artillery Bn (Major Oscar Warren, Commanding), but we always
hung around together.
We started drinking in Tokyo and somehow wound up in Kobe
a couple of days later. At the Kobe Station we looked like hell, and
a man approached us and gave us a card with an address; we fol-
lowed him, and it turned out to be a geisha house. The man was a
World War II vet, and he wore the light khaki uniform with billed
cap; his prosthetic leg was made of aluminum or tin, and he played
an old Hoerner accordion.
Before we walked into the place, we passed him forty dollars
and told a woman there to tell him to come back the next day.
We had some Asahi beer, opened up the barracks bags and had
our stuff washed. We had some more beer, bathed and each got an
only for company.
We spent a week there, and before it was all over, I wound up
singing an old Mexican standard about strangers in an alien land.
In the Valley, there are families from around Klail, Flora and
Bascom who have known each other for some six-seven-eight gen-
erations, and many are blood related, as well. In spite of this, when
a young man from Klail, say, makes plans to marry a girl from
Flora, a commission is charged to ask for the girls hand. They
become serious and solemn; the about-to-be-engaged couple is
nervous: he sweats, and she fans herself.
Obdulio Yez, a relative of mine, lives in Relmpago; those
who know him for what he is, call him La caballonathe he-
mare. Theres no such thing, of course; still, he answers to that
when called for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The words shiftless
and lazy used to describe him merely reveal the poverty of the
English language in his case.
Sitting on a backless bench, cue in hand, looking out the win-
dow and waiting his turn, he asks for some chalk. Someone has
just reminded him that Paula, his latest fiance, has gone to bed
with almost every man in Relmpago.
He chalks up, and says: Relmpago isnt that big a town, you
know . . . He walks around the table. Two bits says I make the
nine ball in the middle pocket.
When Young Murillo told Don Vctor Sols he wanted to test
Estefanita prior to the marriage ceremony, Don Vctor replied that
he didnt raise his daughter to be no goddam watermelon.
This happened a long time ago, and Young Murillo still con-
siders himself quite a card, as they used to say; trouble with that is
that at this late date, he still has no idea how many times hes been
fitted for antlers.
48 Rolando Hinojosa
One fine October day, Pancho la burra gathered every penny,
nickel, dime and dollar bet on the seventh (and deciding) game of
the World Series and left for Jonesville-on-the-Ro. The people
from Bascom swore (up and down) that hed get his if he ever
showed that rat-chewed nose of his in this town. Again.
Three months later, there he was: mounted on a thin-tire, royal
blue Schwinn with hand brakes, horn, twin baskets, etc., and ready
to raffle off a radio or a chance on a bus trip to the shrine of Our
Lady of San Juan.
As the Argentine once said: Really, now, one can always rely
on people not to do anything.
In Bascom, people walk softly and carry no stick at all; they go
about saying things on the order of: I. Behave yourself; 2. Keep it
down; 3. Dont do anything thatll draw the Anglo Texans atten-
tion; 4. Etc.
The bald truth is that our fellow Texans across the tracks could
hardly care about what we think, say or do.
Heres something of what the A.T.s usually say: Oh, its noth-
ing, really; just one of your usual Mexican cantina fan-dan-goes, s
all. They drink a little beer, they play them rancheras on the jukebox,
dont you know; and then one o them lets out a big squeal, and the
first thing you know, why, theys having theirselves a fight.
See what I mean?
The Valley 49
When the man at the bank shot himself, just about everybody
from both sides of the tracks knew the reasons why. His family
was provided for by way of trusts and such.
Now, when Chale Villaln, in his junior year, stoleand thats
the wordstole a jersey and a football, everyone from both sides
of the tracks learned of it in short order.
Our splendid Board of Education instructed a constable to
arrest Chale, make him surrender the items and teach him a thing
or two about respecting other peoples property.
Rafe, if old Echevarra shows up, dont let him have any more
beer, kay? Ill be out in back.
Has he been drinking?
Most of the day, now, and you know how he gets after a
while.
What shall I tell him?
Try and see if . . . well, try and get him to stop, okay?
Echevarra opens one of the swinging doors, looks about and
makes for the bar.
Rafe, hows about a Buddy Watson?
Sorry, Don Esteban, but were out of Budweiser.
You got any Hamms left? Hamms is a good beer, too, you
know.
Yes, it is, but were fresh out.
And what about that there Lonestor beer, y got any o that?
Lone Star? No, were out of that, too.
Mmmmmmmmmmm . . . And Yax?
Nope.
Betcha got Flag! At least the one, right?
No, no Falstaff either.
Well, what do you have?
All we gots Pearl.
50 Rolando Hinojosa
Pearl, huh? Well. . . . Bring her on out.
Quart-sized Pearl, Echevarra.
Well, thats a break! They last longer, you know.
But they havent been iced, yet.
Its my lucky day, Rafe; why, a man can catch a cold with iced
down beer.
A voice from out back:
Jesus Christ! Let him have his goddamn beer!
No sooner did Tome Fonseca conk Robe Cantu with the red
and white No. three ball at Perez Pool Hall, than the guys baptized
him anew; this time, they named him Three, and in English, too.
So, in less than a month, he answered to Three. To tell the truth,
the conking was a boon to Robe; face it, its difficult as hell to rise
above the crowd when one answers to Shit-pants.
Sit on this!
Your sister loves it!
Yeah? Well up your nose with a limber hose!
Why dont you take a bite!
And on and on it went, and it was all talk; neither one really
wanted to fight. Now, if someone had laughed out loud or said
something like, Why dont you two just go to bed together, there
would have been blood, and lots of it, probably. But they were
lucky no one did, and they were let off easy.
At other times, though, some bystanders wise-ass remark has
cost a life or two; these two were just lucky, thats all.
The Valley 51
Mas burial day. Thats the third time Ive been able to cry. In my
life.
The man in charge of the Draft Board in Klail during Korea
moved on to become the V.A. adviser; he was given an office in the
County Courthouse basement. He advised me to sign up for a two-
year course in boat-building; after that, he said, I could then use
the remainder of my G. I. Bill in another form of carpentry: cabi-
net making.
Hed done right wellhis wordswithout college, and it was
his honest opinion Id waste my time there.
Some adviser; some advice.
52 Rolando Hinojosa
Leaving the Valley for a while; Ive registered at the Universi-
ty up in Austin. Itll be a new town for me. Will it be a new life?
Well see.
Sometimes It Just
Happens that Way,
Thats All
56
LIST OF CHARACTERS OF
Sometimes It Just Happens That Way; Thats All
(A Study of Black and White Newspaper Photographs)
The Cordero Family Baldemar
Marta, his sister
parents Don Albino (deceased) and
Doa Mercedes
Beto Castaeda Martas husband
The Tamez Family Ernesto
Emilio
}
brothers
Joaqun
Bertita, their sister
parents Don Servando and Doa Tula
(deceased)
Amelia Cortez Dance hall girl and prostitute
Romeo Hinojosa Court-appointed attorney
Robert A. Chapman Assistant District Attorney,
Belken County
Helen Chacn Acting Asst. Deputy Recorder,
Belken County
57
SOMETIMES IT JUST HAPPENS THAT
WAY; THATS ALL
EXCERPT FROM The Klail City Enterprise-News
(March 15, 1970)
Klail City. (Special) Baldemar Cordero, 30, of 169 South Hidalgo
Street, is in the city jail following a row in a bar in the citys South-
side. Cordero is alleged to have fatally stabbed Arnesto Tamez, also
30, over the affections of one of the hostesses who works there.
No bail had been set at press time.
58
ONE OF THOSE THINGS*
What can I tell you? The truths the truth, and theres no dodg-
ing it, is there? Its a natural fact: I killed Ernesto Tamez, and I did
it right there at the Aqu me quedo. And how can I deny it? But dont
come asking me for no details; not just yet, anyway, cause Im not
all that sure just how it did happenand thats Gods truth, and no
one elses, as we say. Thats right; Neto Tamez is gone and like the
Bible says: I can see, and I can hear.
But thats the way it goes, I guess. Hes laid out there some-
where, and just yesterday late afternoon it was that me and my
brother-in law, Beto Castaeda, he married my sister Marta, you
know . . . well, there we were, the two of us drinking, laughing,
cuttin up, and just having ourselves a time, when up pops Ernesto
Tamez just like Old Nick himself: swearing and cursing like
always, and I got the first blast, but I let it go like I usually . . . like
I always do . . . Oh, well . . . Anyway, he kept it up, but it didnt
bother me none; and thats the truth, too.
You knew Tamez, didnt you? What am I saying? Of course,
you did. Remember that time at Flix Champions place? Someone
came up and broke a bottle of beer, full, too; broke it right back-
side Ernestos head, someone did. Ol Ernestod broken a mirror,
remember? Hed taken this beer bottle and just let go at that mir-
ror, he did. Wellp, I sure havent forgotten, and I always kept my
eyes open; no telling what hed do next. I wouldnt step aside, of
course, but I wouldnt turn my attention away from him, see?
Well, it was like I said: there we were, Beto and me, wed hoist
a few until wed run out of cash, or wed get beer bent, but that was
*Editors note: This cassette recording of Balde Corderos statements has been repro-
duced faithfully using conventional spelling where necessary. What matters here is the
content, not the form. March 16, 1970, Klail City Workhouse.
it: none o that cadging free drinks for us; when we got the money,
we drink. When we dont, we dont, and thats it.
Now, Ive known Tamezthe whole family, in factsince pri-
mary school and when they lived out in Rebaje; there was
Joaqunhes the oldest, and he wound up marrying or had to any-
way, Jovita de Anda. You know her? Now, before she married
Joaqun, Jovita was about as hard to catch as a cold in the month
of February. She straightened out, though; and fast, too. Then
theres Emilio; hes the second in line; he got that permanent limp
ohis after he slipped and then fell off a refrigerator car that was
standing off the old Mo-Pac line over by that pre-cooler run by
Chico Fernndez. The last ones Bertita; shes the only girl in the
family, and she married one of those hard workin Leal boys. Took
her out of Klail City fastern anything you ever saw: he set himself
up out in West TexasMuleshoe, I think it wasand being the
worker he was, why, he turned many a shiny penny. Good for him
is what I say; he earned it. Bertitas no bargain, Ill say that, but she
wasnt a bad woman, either. Ernesto was something, though; from
the beginning. Ill tell you this much: I put up with a lotand took
a lot, too. For years. But sometimes something happens, you know.
And when it does, well . . .
Theres no room for lying, Hinojosa; youve known me, and
youve known my folks for a long time . . . Well, as I was saying,
Beto and I started drinking at the San Diego, from there we
showed up at the Diamondthe old Diamond over on Third
stayed there a while, and we were still on our feet, so we made for
the Blue Bar after that. We wouldve stayed there, too, cept for the
Reyna brothers who showed up. Theres usually trouble for some-
body when theyre around, and thats no secret, no, sir. What they
do is theyll drink a beer or two, at the most, but thats about it,
cause they only drink to cover up the grass theyve been popping
. . . But you know that already . . . Cops that dont know em come
up, smell the brew and they figure the Reynas are drunk, not high.
But everybody else knows; Don Manuel, for one, he knows. Any-
The Valley 59
60 Rolando Hinojosa
way, as soon as the Reynas showed up at the Blue Bar, Beto and I
moved on; thats the way to avoid trouble; get out of there, cause
troublell cross your way, and fast. As for Anselmo Reyna, well, I
guess he learned his when I looked him down at the Diamond that
one time; he learned his, all right. But there they were at the Blue
Bar, highern a eats back, so we got out o there, and then went on
over to the Aqu me quedo.
Thats really something, isnt it? I mean, if the Reynas hadnt-a
showed up at the Blue Bar, why, nothing wouldve happened later
on, right? But thats not right either, is it? cause when somethings
bound to happen, itll happen; and right on schedule, too. Shoot!
That was going to be Ernestos last night in the Valley, and I was
chosen to see to it: just like that. One. Two. Three. No two ways is
there? . . . Although . . . Well, I mean, it boils down to this: I killed
a human being. Whod-a thought it?
Its funny, Hinojosa . . . I kind of remember the why but not the
when of it all. I mean, Ive been sworn at, cussed at, but I always
let that kind of stuff go by, know what I mean? But then, too . . .
to actually have someone come-right-up-to-you like this here,
come right up to you, see, point-blank kind-a, and, and, ah, added
to which Id been drinking some and Ernesto there had been break-
ing em for me for a long time, and me, remembering a lot o past
crap hed dumped on me, and him being a coward and all, yeah, he
was, always counting on his brothers for everything, so . . . there it
waswe went after it. Finally. After all these years.
Later on it I think it was that Beto told me about the blood and
about how it just jumped out and got on my arms, and shirt, n face,
and all over . . . Beto also said I didnt blink an eye or anything; I
just stood there, he said. All I remember now is that I didnt hear a
word; nothing. Not the women, or the screaming . . . Nothing; not
even the guys who came a-running. Nothing. I could see em,
though, but thats all.
Sometime later, I dont know when or for how long, but some-
time later, I walked on out to the street and stood on the curb there,
and noticed a family in a house across the way just sitting down
and watching TV; they looked peaceful there, yknow what I
mean? Innocent-like. Why, they had no idea . . . of what had . . .
and here I was, why, Id been just as innocent a few minutes before
. . . You, ah, you understand what Im saying? . . . Ill say this,
though, that talk about life and death is something serious. I
mean, its . . . Its . . . Shoot, I dont even know what Im tryin to
say here . . .
Did I ever tell you that Ernestoand this was in front of a lot
o people, nowdid I ever tell you he cut in every chance he got?
Just like that. Hed cut in on a girl I was dancing with, or just take
her away from me. All the time. Over at El Farol and the other
places . . . Well, he did. One other time, he told a dance girl that I
had come down with a dose of the clap. Can you beat that? He was
always up to somethingand then something happened, and I
killed him. Just like that. Not because of that one thing, no. Jesus!
It just happens, thats all. One othose things, I guess . . . Maybe I
shouldntve waited so long; maybe I shouldve cut his water off
sooner, and then perhaps this wouldntve happened . . . Ahhhh,
whom I kidding? Whats dones done, and thats it.
Well, last night just tore it for me, though; he swore right at
meno mistake thereand he laughed at me, too. And then, like
talking into a microphone, he said I didnt have the balls to stand
up to him. Right there, in front of everybody again. Now, I had put
up with a lot of crap, and I have. From friends, too, cause I can
then swear or say some things myself, but its all part of the
gamebut not with him. Ever. I didnt say a word. Not one; I sure
didnt. I just looked at him, but I didnt move or do or say any-
thing; Im telling you I just stood there. Damfool probably thought
I was afraid of him. Well, that was his mistake, and now mine, too,
I guess. He kept it upwouldnt stop, not for a minute. Then, to
top it off, he brings one of the dance girls over and says to her, to
me, to everybody there, that hed looked me down a hundred times
or more; looked me down, and that I had taken itcause I was
The Valley 61
scared. Chicken, he said. The dance girl, she didnt know what to
say, what to do; she was half-scared, and embarrassed, too, Ill
warrant . . . But she just stood there as he held on to her . . . by the
wrist . . . I think the music stopped or something. I remember, or I
think I do, anyway, that there was a buzz or a buzzer going off
somewhere, like I was wearing a beehive instead of that hat of
mine. Does that make sense? I heard that buzzing, see, and the
hissing, raspy voice of that damfool, and then I saw that fixed, idi-
otic smile o that dance girl, and thensuddenly, yeahin a rush,
see; suddenly a scream, a yell, a, a shriek-like, and I saw Ernesto
sliding, slippin sort-a, in a heap . . . and falling away . . . falling,
eh?
Now, I do recall I took a deep breath, and the buzzing sort-a
stopped and I remember walking outside, to the sidewalk, and then
I spotted that family I told you about, the one watching TV. And
standing there, I looked at my left hand: I was carrying that pearl-
handled knife that Pa Albino had given me when I was up in
Michigan.
I went back inside the place, n then I went out again. I didnt
even think of running away. What for? And where? Everybody
knew me. Shoot. The second time I walked back in, I noticed that
the cement floor had been hosed down, scrubbed clean. Not a
trace-a blood either, not on the floor, or anywhere. Theyd taken
Ernesto out back, where they keep the warm beer and the snacks,
next to the toilet there. When Don Manuel came in, I gave him the
knife, and then I went to the sidewalk, to the side of the place . . .
I got sick, and then I couldnt stop coughing. I finally got in Don
Manuels car, n I waited for him. When he got through in there,
he brought me here . . . straight to jail . . . That old man probably
went home to see my Ma, right? Well . . .
Anyway, early this morning, one of his kids brought me some
coffee, and he waited until I finished the pot. You know . . . Ive
tried to fix, to set down in my mind, when it was that I buried my
knife in that damfool. But I just cant remember . . . I just cant,
62 Rolando Hinojosa
you know . . . And try as I may, too. It could be I just dont want
to remember, right?
Anyway, Beto was here just before you came in . . . Hes on his
way to the District Attorneys office to give a deposition, he says. Ill
tell you how I feel right now: I feel bad. I cant say how Ill feel later
on, but for now, I do, I feel really bad, you know. That stuff about no
use crying over spilled milk and all that, thats just talk, and nothing
more. I feel terrible. I killed a . . . and when I think about it, real slow,
I feel bad . . . Real bad . . .
I was wrongdead wrong, I know; but if Ernesto was to insult
me again, Id probably go after him again. The truth is . . . The
truth is one never learns.
Look, Im not trying to tire you out on thisI keep saying the
same thing over and over, but thats all I can talk about. But thanks
for coming over. And thanks for the cigarettes, okay? Look,
maybejust maybe, nowmaybe one of these days Ill know
why I killed himbut he was due and bound to get it someday,
wasnt he? All I did was to hurry it up a bit . . . You see? There I
go again . . .
Oh, and before I forget, will you tell Mr. Royce that I wont be
in tomorrow . . . and remind him I got one weeks pay coming to
me. Will you see to that?
Ill see you, Hinojosa . . . And thanks, okay?
The Valley 63
64
MARTA, AND WHAT SHE KNOWS*
. . . what happened was that when Pa Albino died up in Michigan as
a result of that accident at the pickle plant, Balde decided wed all
spend the winter there in Michigan till we heard about the settlement
one way or nother. Right off, then, that contractor who brought us
up from the Valley, he tried to skin us there and then and so Balde
had to threaten him so hed do right by us. So, with what little we
got out of him, Balde hired us a lawyer to sue Turner Pickle Com-
pany. He was a young one that lawyer, but a good one: he won the
case, and that pickle company, well, they had to pay up for damages,
as they call them. Now, when that was settled, we paid what we
owed there in Saginaw, and with what we had left from that, well,
we used it to see us through the winter months there while we
looked around for another contractor to bring us back or to live up
in Michigan while some work or other turned up. By this time, Beto
was calling on me but not in a formal way. You see, we, Ma and I,
we were still in mourning on account o Pa, and . . . Well, you know
how that is . . .
Youve known Balde since he was a kid, and, as Pa used to say:
What can I tell you? Mas been laid up with paralysis for years, but
with all that, shes never missed a trip up North. Well, there we
were with other mexicano families from Texas, stuck up in Sagi-
naw, Michigan, and waiting for winter to set in and looking for
work. Any type of work; whatever it was, it didnt matter. Balde
was the first one to land a job: he got himself hired on as a night
man at the bay port there. Not too much after that, he put in a good
word for Beto, and that way they worked together. Later on, but
you know this, Beto and I got married. At that time, Balde mustve
been twenty-seven years old, and he could have had his pick of any
Valley girl there or anywhere else, but because of Mas condition,
*Cassette dated March 17, 1970.
and the lack-a money, n first one thing and then nother, well, you
know how that goes sometimes. So, weve been back in the Valley
for some two years now, and I guess Balde stopped looking. But
you know him; hes a good man; he was raised solid, and no one
begrudges the beer or two or whatever many he has on Saturdays:
he wont fight, and thats it. He wont say why he wont fight, but
I, Ma n me, we know why: wed be hurting, thats why. Ill tell
you this, too: hes put up with a lot. A lot . . . But thats because
hes always thinking o Ma and me, see?
Once, and just the once, and by chance, too, I did hear that Balde
laid it to one of the Reyna brothers, and no holds barred from what I
heard . . . but this wasnt ever brought up here at the house.
You know, its really hard to say what I felt or even how I felt
when I first heard about what had happened to Neto Tamez. At first
I couldnt . . . I couldnt bring myself to believe it, to picture it . . . I
. . . I just couldnt imagine that my brother Balde . . . that he would
kill someone. Im not saying this cause hes a saint or something
like that, no, not a-tall. But I will say this: it mustve been something
terrible; horrible, even. Something he just couldnt swallow; put up
with. It cost him; I mean, Balde had to hold back for a long time, and
he held back, for a long time . . . Holding it in all that time just got
to him. It must have.
And, too, it could be that Ernesto went too far that time; too far.
Beto had told me, or tried to, in his way, he tried to tell me about
some of the stuff Neto Tamez was doing, or saying, and all of it
against Balde; trouble is that Betos not much of a talker, and he
keeps everything inside, too, just like Balde does . . . As far as me
getting any news out o Balde, well . . . all he ever brought home
was a smile on his face. Ill say this, though, once in a while hed
be as serious and as quiet as anything youd ever want to see; I
wasnt about to ask him anything, no sir, I wasnt about to do that.
At any rate, what with tending to Ma here, caring for both of the
men of the house, and you add the wash and the cooking, and the
The Valley 65
sewing, and what not, hooh! Ive got enough to do here without
worrying about gossip.
Im not pretending to be an angel here either, but what I do
know is all second-hand. What I picked up from Beto or from
some of my women friends whod call, or from what I could pick
up here and there from Balde. Im telling you what I could piece
out or what I would come up with by adding two and two togeth-
er, but I dont really know; like I told you, I dont have that much
to go on.
Now, the whole world and its first cousin know that Neto Tamez
was always picking and backbiting and just making life miserable
for him . . . Well, everybody else knows how Balde put up with it,
too. Ill say again that if Balde didnt put a muzzle on him right
away, it was because Balde was thinking-a Ma n me. And thats the
truth. What people dont know is why Neto did what he did against
my brother.
Listen to this: back when we were in junior high, Neto Tamez
would send me love notes; yes, back then. And hed follow me
home, too. To top this, hed bully some kids to act as his messen-
ger boys. Yes, he would. Now, Id never paid attention to him,
mind you, and I never gave him any ground to do so, either. The
girlsd tell me that Neto wouldnt even let other boys come near
me n he acted as if he owned me or something like that. This hap-
pened a long time ago, a-course, and Id never breathe a word of it
to Balde; but! the very first time I learned that Neto Tamez was
giving my brother a hard time, I knew or thought I knew why he
was doing it. I dont really know if Balde knew or not, though, but
like Beto says: anythings possible.
Some girlfriends of mine once told me that at La Golondrina
and El Farolito, you know, those kind-a places . . . Anyway, the
girls said that Neto insulted Balde right in front of everybody; a
lotta times, too. You know, hed cut in or just up and walk away
with whatever girl Balde had at the time . . . or Netod say some-
thing nasty, anything, anything to make Baldes life a complete
66 Rolando Hinojosa
misery. On and on, see? Now, Im not saying Neto Tamez would
actually follow him from place to place, no, Im not saying that at
all; but what I am saying is that Netod never lose the opportunity
. . . I mean the opportunity to push n shove, embarrass him until
Balde would just have to get up and leave the place, see? Youve
got to keep in mind that living in the same town, in the same neigh-
borhood, almost, and then to have to put up with all sorts of
garbage, why, thats enough to tempt and drive a saint to madness.
I swear it would, and Baldes no saint. So manys the time Balded
come home, not say a word, and drinking or not, hed come in, kiss
Ma as he always did, and hed sit and talk a while and then go out
to the porch and have himself a smoke. Why, compared to Balde,
my Betos a walking-talking chatterbox . . .
The Tamezes are a peculiar bunch of people, you know. When
they used to live out in Rebaje, it looked as if they were forever into
something with someone, the neighbors, anybody. I remember the
time Joaqun had to get married to Jovita de Anda; Don Servando
Tamez barred all the doors to the house, and then he wouldnt let
the de Andas in; they couldnt even attend the wedding, and that
was it. They say that old Mister de Anda . . . Don Marcial . . . the
little candy man? Well, they say he cried and just like a baby cause
he wouldnt get to see his only daughter get married. I remember,
too, that Emilio, one leg shortern the other by that time, was
marching up and down in front of their house like he was a soldier
or something . . .
It was a good thing that poor Doa Tula Tamez had passed
away and was buried up in Bascom by that time, cause shed-a
been mortified with the goings on in that house . . . I swear. About
the only thing to come out-a that house was Bertita, and oh! did
she have a case on Balde. For years, too. She finally married
Ramiro Leal; you know him, do you? His folks own the tortilla
machine . . .
Well, anyway, yesterday, just about the time you went to see
Balde at the jailhouse, Don Manuel Guzmn showed up here. He
The Valley 67
68 Rolando Hinojosa
said hed come just to say hello to Ma, but that was just an excuse:
what he really said was for us not to worry about the law and the
house. Isnt that something? Why, Ive seen that man dole out
kicks, head buttings and a haymaker or two to every troublemaker
here in Klail, and then, bright n early, one of his kidsll bring cof-
fee to whoever it is that winds up in jail that weekend. Ill say this,
too, though: the streets in Klail have never been safer, and I know
that for a fact. Anyway, just as he was about to leave, Don Manuel
told me that Ma n me that we could draw our groceries from the
Torres grocery store down the way. Don Manuel and Pa Albino go
back a long time, you know; from the Revolution, I think.
Things are going to get tight around here without Balde, but
Ma n me we still have Beto here, and . . . My only hope is that the
Tamezes dont come looking for Beto cause thatll really put us
under without a man in the house. Betos at the Court House just
now; he had to go and make a statement, they said.
Oh, Mr. Hinojosa, I just dont know where all of this is going
to take us . . . But Godll provide . . . Hes got to.
69
ROMEO HINOJOSA
Attorney at Law
420 South Cerralvo Tel. 843-1640
The following is a deposition, in English, made by Beto Cas-
taeda, today, March 17, 1970, in the office of Mr. Robert A.
Chapman, Assistant District Attorney for Belken County.
The aforementioned officer of the court gave me a copy of the
statement as part of the testimony in the trial of The State of Texas
v. Cordero set for August 23 of this year in the court of Judge
Harrison Phelps who presides in the 139th District Court.
Romeo Hinojosa
March 17, 1970
70
A DEPOSITION FREELY GIVEN
on this seventeenth day of March 1970, by Mr. Gilberto Castae-
da in room 218 of the Belken County Court House was duly taken,
witnessed and signed by Miss Helen Chacn, a legal interpreter
and acting assistant deputy recorder for said County, as part of a
criminal investigation assigned to Robert A. Chapman, assistant
district attorney for the same County.
It is understood that Mr. Castaeda is acting solely as a depo-
nent and is not a party to any civil or criminal investigation, pro-
ceeding or violation which may be alluded to in this deposition.
Well, my name is Gilberto Castaeda, and I live
at 169 South Hidalgo Street here in Klail. It is
not my house; it belong to my mother-in-law, but I
have live there since I marry Marta (Marta Cordero
Castaeda, 169 South Hidalgo Street, Klail City)
about three years ago.
I am working at the Royce-Fedders tomato pack-
ing shed as a grader. My brother-in-law, Balde
Cordero, work there too. He pack tomatoes and dont
get pay for the hour, he get pay for what he pack
and since I am a grader I make sure he get the same
class tomato and that way he pack faster; he just
get a tomato with the right hand, and he wrap it
with the left. He pack a lug of tomatoes so fast
you dont see it, and he does it fast because I am
a good grader.
Balde is a good man. His father, Don Albino, my
father-in-law who die up in Saginaw, Michigan, when
Marta and I, you know, go together . . . well, Balde
is like Don Albino, you understand? A good man. A
right man. Me, I stay an orphan and when the Mejas
take me when my father and my mother die in that
train wrecknear Flora? Don Albino tell the Mejas
I must go to the school. I go to First Ward Ele-
mentary where Mr. Gold is principal. In First Ward
I am a friend of Balde and there I meet Marta too.
Later, when I grow up I dont visit the house too
much because of Marta, you know what I mean? Any-
way, Balde is my friend and I have known him very
well . . . maybe more than nobody else. Hes a good
man.
Well, last night Balde and I took a few beers
in some of the places near where we live. We drink
a couple here and a couple there, you know, and we
save the Aqu me quedo on South Missouri for last.
It is there that I tell Balde a joke about the drunk
guy who is going to his house and he hear the clock
in the corner make two sounds. You know that one?
Well, this drunk guy he hear the clock go bong-bong
and he say that the clock is wrong for it give one
oclock two time. Well, Balde think that is funny
. . . Anyway, when I tell the joke in Spanish its
better. Well, there we were drinking a beer when
Ernesto Tamez comes. Ernesto Tamez is like a woman,
you know? Every time he get in trouble he call his
family to help him . . . that is the way it is with
him. Well, that night he bother Balde again. More
than one time Balde has stop me when Tamez begin to
insult. That Balde is a man of patience. This time
Ernesto bring a vieja (woman) and Balde dont say
nothing, nothing, nothing. What happens is that
things get spooky, you know. Ernesto talking and
burlndose de l (ridiculing him) and at the same
time he have the poor woman by the arm. And then
something happen. I dont know what happen, but
something and fast.
I dont know. I really dont know. It all hap-
pen so fast; the knife, the blood squirt all over
my face and arms, the woman try to get away, a loud
really loud scream, not a grito (local Mexican
yell) but more a woman screaming, you know what I
mean? and then Ernesto fall on the cement.
Right there I look at Balde and his face is like
a mask in asleep, you understand? No angry, no sur-
prise, nothing. In his left hand he have the knife
and he shake his head before he walk to the door.
Look, it happen so fast no one move for a while.
Then Balde come in and go out of the place and when
Don Manuel (Manuel Guzmn, constable for precinct
21) come in, Balde just hand over the knife. Lucas
Barrn, you know, El Chorreao (a nickname) well, he
The Valley 71
wash the blood and sweep the floor before Don
Manuel get there. Don Manuel just shake his head
and tell Balde to go to the car and wait. Don Manuel
he walk to the back to see Ernesto and on the way
out one of the women, I think it is la gera Baln
(Amelia Cortez, 23, no known address, this city),
try to make a joke, but Don Manuel he say no ests
chingando (shut the hell up, or words to that
effect) and after that Don Manuel go about his own
business. Me, I go to the door but all I see is
Balde looking at a house across the street and he
dont even know I come to say goodbye. Anyway, this
morning a little boy of Don Manuel say for me to
come here and here I am.
Further deponent sayeth not.
Sworn to before me, this
17th day of March 1970
/s/___________________ /s/____________________
Helen Chacn Gilberto Castaeda
Acting Asst. Dpty. Recorder
Belken County
72 Rolando Hinojosa
73
EXCERPT FROM The Klail City Enterprise-News
(Aug. 24, 1970)
K1ail City. (Special). Baldemar Cordero, 30, of 169 South Hidalgo
Street, drew a 15-year sentence in Judge Harrison Phelps l39th
District Court for the murder of Ernesto Tamez last Spring to be
served in the State Huntsville Prison. ETAOINNNNNNNNN
Cordero is alleged to have fatally stabbed Ernesto Tanez, also 30,
over the affections of one of the hostesses who works there.
ETAOIN SHRUDLU PICK UP
No appeal had been made at press time.
Lives and Miracles
Final entry in the photographic variorum
77
TRUE DEDICATION
After alls been said and done with, the worlds a drugstore:
youll find a little bit of just about everything, and its usually on
sale, too.
Belken County Texas is part of the world, and so, its no dif-
ferent; its people are packaged in cellophane and they, too, come
in all sizes, shapes and in a choice of colors. Now, since theyre
human, some are brave, craven, loyal, treacherous, while others
are sharp and still others are so dull that it just makes you want to
throw rocks at them from time to time.
A close look reveals that some are in the picture of health while
others go around coughing, spitting up blood and forever stepping in
and out of bullshit and what not. The writerthis writerwithout as
much as a by your leave steps out into that world full of streets and
potholes and usually winds up taking a picture of the Belken County
fauna here and there. If hes lucky, a bookll come out of that. The
trouble is that theres not enough interesting people to go around;
never has been, not for everybody and not forever, either. Theres
always been a scarcity. Look at this: just how many Napoleons have
we come up with so far? Or Hitlers? Or Jesus Christs?
Still, there are some people in this world who live in fear and
tremble at the thought of committing some egregious social error:
the wrong fork, the wrong wine or of discovering a spot or two of
fresh urine running down the leg of a pair of freshly starched khaki
pants. (Remember Min?)
What happens is that these people wish to live perfect lives,
and thats when I go to work, and, because of that ill-fated desire
of theirs, they will never know the pleasure of passing out at a
friends wedding or divorce. No; there they are: clean, spotless, a
box of handy-wipes at the ready and then, just like that, Death
comes calling, and there they go forming a straight line down the
chute where push sure as hell doesnt come to shove. As said,
whenever I see these people, I go to work. I only wish there were
more of them.
Up to now, then, weve only seen one Napoleon of note (one
Romeo, one Raskolnikov); but the three share coinciding views:
they each wanted something for themselves, and you have to ask
yourself where the fiction of any of them begins or ends. I believe
its a fraudulent piece of business to try and dress them up with
other names or with a change of clothing in the name of originali-
ty. You start dressing a monkey in silk and other finery, and youre
going to wind up with one sad-looking monkey and little else.
Look, theres only one nickel in the whole world, and its
plugged, and everybodys had or will have his hands on it at least
once. Trying to come up with something original is about as bad
as making love to your wife when youre thinking about something
else at the time. You have got to keep your mind on the business at
hand; the cult of originality be damned. So, all weve got to work
with is people, but God love em and keep em.
From what Ive seen, originalitys about as plentiful and as easy
to see through as a dumb joke, and mans got more of both than he
quite knows what to do with. What happens is that were forgetful,
thats all; and too, were mortal. The truth is that were all equal, and
the truth also is that were not all equal. Its galling is what it is.
Short detour. The curious folk who spend much of their allot-
ted time on this earth giving advice, tooling around with scientific
data, offering criticism and then going around explaining every-
thing, have every right to do so since we live in a democracy by
God. I wish, though, that theyd learn to leave us alone to enjoy or
not to enjoy life as we see fit. After all, we live in a democracy, by
God! Its a big place, and theres room for all so dont push or
youll just wind up getting shoved. Boils down to that.
What follows in this chronicle of Belken County is dedicated to
everyone of that countys splendid population. Its also dedicated to
their mirrors who look back at them, day and night, in shame and
pride, in sickness and in health, until Death do them part, amen.
78 Rolando Hinojosa
79
WHEN IT COMES TO CLASS: VIOLA BARRAGN
Pius V Reyes was buried in the mexicano cemetery, a mile or
two down the road from Bascom, one unseasonably cold October
day. It was a simple affair, and the rain that day certainly didnt help
attendance. The mourners bunched up here and there trying to
defend themselves against the elements, and the steady drizzle never
did let up. As soon as the last shovelful hit the casket, the crowd
wandered off in search of their cars rather hurriedly. In the Valley,
and its no different in the rest of the world either, death and cold
weather usually gang up to ruin someone elses good time; since it
happens so often, its just too much to be coincidental.
The recently buried Pius V, despite his name, was a convert to
Presbyterianism. A serious sort even as a youngster and growing
up in Flora as he did, he was more serious as time went on, and by
the time he was forty, he was as solemn as a goose. Some people
are just born that way, thats all; theyre singled out, you might say:
You, there, youre going to turn out this way. You, over there,
youre going to be this other way. And you, yeah, youand on it
goes. As always, man proposes, but the earth encloses.
And how about, man develops, but the earth envelops?
Thats good, too, but no more interruptions, please. As I was
saying: Pius V died at the Holiday Inn over on Route One, right by
where there used to be a small colony of black folks; but that was
a long time ago.
Pius V was not at the Holiday Inn cause he worked there, no; he
was there as a guest. Pius V worked as a bookkeeper for Avila Bros.
(wholesale & retail, we deliver). Pius V, when he heard Gabriels
blast calling him to join that great number, just happened to be rest-
ing a bit on top of Viola Barragn, a woman who some twenty years
ago was firmer than tungsten, and who now, right now, is just about
as solid as she ever was; one of lifes minor miracles, you might say.
Pius V bought the farm in medias res, thus joining the silent major-
ity as naked as the day he was born.
Rafe Buenrostro says that he, and he was just a kid then, that
he went to the mans funeral; from there, he said, his father took
him to meet some Buenrostros who farmed near Bascom. Rafe and
his father, by the way, were the last to leave the cemetery that day.
(The Buenrostros came to the Valley with the first Quertaro
colonists in 1749 with Escandn leading the first group there.
According to the late Don Vctor Pelez, some Buenrostros are
poor, some have a little salted away and others just fall through the
cracks.) Well, sir, as the people were heading for their cars, a
woman was getting out of hers and walked to the fresh mound of
flowers there. She was dressed in a fine, form-fitting, full-length
suede leather coat; the hat too was suede, but it was fur covered
and had a veil attached. She opened a good-sized patent leather
purse, took out a small handkerchief which she then begin to untie,
and when she did, she came up with a gold wedding band. She
looked at it briefly then she buried it in the mound; her gloves were
muddied up, but she didnt seem to mind that or the rain and what
it was doing to her clothes. And, she didnt break down in tears or
anything. A trouper.
Anyway, according to Rafe Buenrostro, Viola had become a
widow at age eighteen, just a year or two away from the second of
two World Wars weve had so far this century. She played the
piano fast, loud and poorly; it was also said that she wrote and sang
her own songs.
Her first husband was from Agualeguas in our neighboring
southern state of Nuevo Len; hed crossed the Ro Grande as an
exile and opened up shop as a medical surgeon in Klail, and thats
where he died about a year into the marriage with Viola. It was his
own fault for taking that prescription made by an apprentice phar-
macist.
Before the year was out, Viola hooked up with Don Javier
Leguizamn; he owns those lands over to Edgerton there; those
80 Rolando Hinojosa
were old mexicano lands taken over by Anglo Texans first and by
the Leguizamns after that. Viola was with Don Javier up to her
twentieth maybe her twenty-first birthday; it happened that she was
replaced by Gela Maldonado, but thats another story. Viola was
jettisoned all right, but she was a good student: her eyes opened up,
and she learned to see through people; obviously a valuable talent.
And what about the time that you and . . .
Please! After the Don Javier liaison, Viola married again; this
time to a German national stationed at the Consulate in the Mexi-
can Gulf City of Tampico, Tamaulipas. The man had crossed the
Ro on a two three-week vacation, and when he returned to Tampi-
co, there was Viola hanging on to his right arm and to his every
word, you might say.
From Tampico, the newlyweds sailed for India; Violas hus-
band had been promoted and his new post was that of first secre-
tary to the German Minister there. World War II came along ruin-
ing a lot of plans and a lot of futures for a lot of people, as all of
us know. But there was Viola, a mexicana from Ruffing, Texas,
only daughter of Don Telsforo Barragn and Doa Felcitas Surs
de Barragn, in India and married to a German national. The cou-
ple was interned at an English concentration camp just outside of
Calcutta for a while. She was there alongside her husband until
they were sent to the birth place of concentration camps: South
Africa. And there they were until Oberst-General Jodl signed some
peace agreements in a primary school in some obscure French
town thus stopping that part of WWII.
Several years after the war, she finally made it back to the Val-
ley to discover that Telsforo and Felcitas had moved to Edgerton.
Not one to lose time, Viola pointed her nose and her car toward
Edgerton and found them none the worse for wear: she bought her-
self a two-story house, moved her parents in, and then took very
good care of the surviving relatives; these had helped the old folks
during hard times, and Viola was just paying back. After this, she
settled down or so it seemed.
The Valley 81
82 Rolando Hinojosa
The Valley mexicanos couldnt quite get a handle on what was
going on inside Violas head, and about the only thing they could
agree on was that Viola had been gone close to ten years, and that
she hadnt forgotten her Spanish during all that time. Chances are
that Viola didnt even bother to learn German at all; to tell the rigid
truth, some actions do speak louder than words.
Time marched on as it always does, and the Devil, that insom-
niac, delivered yet one more surprise to Viola: Pius V Reyes.
Pius V, seriousness and discretion, sporting a well-starched,
long-sleeved striped shirt, had married Blanca Rivera; with no
children to raise, Blanca took to religion, and so she and Brother
Limn ganged up on Pius V to convert him to Presbyterianism.
Pius V said it didnt matter much to him one way or another, and
this way the Ruffing, Texas mexicano Presbyterian Church gained
another adherent.
So, there was Viola settled in Edgerton, and Pius V had never
even heard of her. What happend was that one bright Valley day,
Viola with plenty of money and time on her hands, was making her
usual run up and down the Valley from Edgerton to Jonesville-on
the-Ro when a red traffic light in Bascom brought them together:
Viola was staring dead ahead waiting for the light to change when
Pius V crossed her line of fire. She saw that curious face floating
by and said, Im claiming that one as my property, and Im doing
it cause I want to; I dont need the money for food, this time.
And so, the Devil saw to it that Violas car developed a flat
right there in the middle of Bascoms main street; Pius V volun-
teered to help, and thats how the two met.
But the Devils unions dont last long as a rule; the affair last-
ed about a year until that fateful day at the motel.
When Pius V keeled over at the Holiday Inn, ViolaFearless
Violapushed herself out of the way, sat at the foot of the bed,
dressed as carefully as she always did, fixed her hair, touched up
her face, glanced around the room and made for the door and then
for Edgerton. Pius V was found later on by a maid whod come to
turn down the bed; she ran to the front desk, and etc. etc.
So he was buried in the mexicano cemetery near Bascom; his
loving wife and other relatives prayed to the Lord to save Pius Vs
soul, and they recommended that He take good care of Pius V, sec-
ulae seculorum, amen. The mexicano Presbyterians from The
Good Shepherd Church over on Ninth were commended for all
arrangements (floral and waiters) from start to finish.
And Viola?
Violas doing just fine, thank you. Shes fifty if shes a day, and
shes got plenty of money and looks it, too. The burying of the
wedding band was a touch of class; as Viola says, No merit in
having class, really; but its Hell, if you dont.
The Valley 83
84
THE OLD REVOLUTIONARIES
Theyre dying out. Theres just a few of them left in Belken
County Texas; some are out on the street, and these are the lucky
ones. Others are less fortunate, however; theyre prisoners in those
glorious institutions, the nursing homes. Theres only one way to
leave those places . . .
Properly speaking, those old men closeted in the nursing
homes arent revolutionaries anymore; theyre spent cartridges;
water-logged ammunition that wont fire. Its like trying to fit
Mauser ammo in 1903 Springfields: you can try, but it wont work.
Its sad, but thats the truth of it.
Those who roam about and sit out in the park are free, but their
numbers will never increase. There is one consolation, though,
they know exactly who they are and what they fought for; identi-
ty, that overused word, is not a problem. So, they get together early
in the evening and talk out the night, polishing, rounding the edges
and corners of their stories; telling each other about la bola as
they call the Mexican Revolution; age and memory dont neces-
sarily go hand in hand, but they do remember, and every night they
charge out as they did when they served as cavalrymen in Villas
army or under Lucio Blanco or in that rump group formed by the
Arrieta Brothers. And the places are always the same: San Pedro
de las Colonias, Culiacn, Celaya . . .
Those old men, and Ill mention but three, Don Braulio Tapia,
Evaristo Garrido and Don Manuel Guzmn, were all born here,
in the United States, but they too fought in the 1910 Revolution as
did the Mexican mexicanos. The parents of these men were also
born in this country, as were their grandparents; this goes back to
1765 and earlier, 1749. It may be curious for some, but its all
perfectly understandable and natural for lower Ro Grande Valley
borderers, as is the lay of the land on both sides of the border; and,
if one discounts the Anglo Texans, well, the Texas Mexicansor
The Valley 85
mexicanosand the Mexico Mexicansthe nacionalesnot only
think alike more often than not, but they are also blood-related as
they have and had been for one hundred years before the
Americans had that war between themselves in the 1860s; the
rivers a jurisdictional barrier, but thats about it. At times, even
that doesnt always work out. As Don Amrico Paredes says:
The Mexico Texan is one funny man
Who lives in the region just north of the Gran
Of Mexican father he born in this part,
And sometimes he rues it, deep down in his heart.
Other relatives stayed here, in their native Texas, during
the Revolution, and some formed part of the Liberating Texas-
Mexican Armythe seditious ones, as they were called. They, too,
were revolutionaries, but they fought here, in their own country, in
what since 1848 has been called the United States of America.
The apostle Matthew says that few are chosen, and hes right;
its the same with revolutionaries: and theyre somewhat akin to
mavericks, too; they wander about unmarked, unroped and unfet-
tered. But time, the constant eroder, takes its toll on everyone, and
that includes revolutionaries.
I
Braulio Tapia was born in the month of August in 1883; his
place of birth was once called El Esquilmo, but when the Anglo
Texans came down, they renamed it Skidmore; Braulio was raised
and educated by Juan Nepomuceno Celaya, and later on, by a
maternal aunt named Barbarita Faras de Celaya, from Goliad,
Texas; the same Goliad where the officer who replaced Gen. Urrea
executed Col. Fannin and some others during the Texas Rebellion,
1835-1836.
Braulio first showed up in what is now called Belken County
around 1908; two years later, he married Sstenes Calvillo, an
only child of Don Prxedes Calvillo and his wife, Albinita Buen-
rostro. Braulio and Sstenes had a daughter, Matilde, and she mar-
ried Don Jeh Vilches, and they had one daughter, Mara Teresa de
Jess, who married Roque Malacara. Working down to this last
generation, the land once owned by mexicanos now belonged, in
great part, to the Anglo Texans. Some mexicanos did wind up with
land, though, and these can be divided into two groups: in the first,
the old settlers who fought the Anglo Texans in both gun and legal
battles; and the second group, the sellouts who accepted the lands
given them by the Anglo Texans as a dog takes whats given it for
a job well done.
When Braulio Tapia talks with his old friends, he usually talks
about the man who raised him: Don Juan Ene; Braulio was in
seven skirmishes and in two major battles during the Revolution:
Celaya, Guanajuato, where Obregn defeated Villa soundly thus
forcing the Centaur into retirement earlier than expected; and, on
Villas side, at an earlier time, during the siege of San Pedro de las
Colonias, where he picked up two or three bullet wounds; he cant
remember the exact number; he goes on to say that it isnt impor-
tant at this date anyway.
Through him I learned part of that old song that starts off:
San Pedro de las Colonias
Whose bells off in the distance
Distance!
Remind me of her and of home
Home!
Evaristo Garrido is related to Don Braulio somehow; I dont
have all the facts as yet.
86 Rolando Hinojosa
II
Evaristo claims bachelor status although he did have two sons
by Andreta Cano (shes from the Ruffing Canos): Pascual, who
died in the typhoid epidemic of 16, and Andrs who was born
retarded. Evaristo had a third child, a girl, by Petrita San Miguel:
Natalia, who later married Sotero Garza Pars, a native of
Cadereyta Jimnez, Nuevo Len.
The Vilches, Garrido and Malacara families formed an
unshakeable alliance in the defense of their lands (all original
grants from the Crown). The first run-in against the Rangerslos
rincheswas at the old Toluca Ranch, a Vilches family holding,
hard by Relmpago, but closer to the old burned church. The sec-
ond engagement took place at the Carmen Ranch held by Don
Jess Buenrostro, who was also called El quieto. The fighting
started on a Palm Sunday and ended the following Easter Sunday.
Los rinches stopped their harassment at that end of the Valley
when the mexicano ranch hands started firing back at them.
At other times, and other places, however, the mexicano prop-
erty owners lost both lands and friends, legally at times, and as a
result of backstabbing at others. Those who died in these affrays
died facing North and with their backs to the Ro Grande; as they
said, We were born here, we may as well die and be buried here,
too. Come on, you rinche bastards!
During the Toluca Ranch shoot-out, some Mexican nationals
related to the Texas mexicanos, crossed the Ro to help out their
blood relatives; they didnt fight, but their presence helped: they
had crossed upon learning that some self-styled volunteers from the
U.S. Cavalry had camped out close to Vilches and Malacara ranch
land; the nacionales were kin, of course, and they stayed around
watching the Toluca people shoot it out with the Rangers; it was a
stand-off, and when the host packed up and headed for Fort Jones
in Jonesville on-the-Ro, the nacionales recrossed the Ro and kept
an eye on the cavalrys rear guard all the way to Fort Jones.
The Valley 87
Evaristo, too, was in the sieges of both Culiacn and Mata-
moros with Lucio Blanco. During the shelling of Matamoros,
Evaristo paid a visit to some kin in the Yescas settlementthe
casero Yescas, which is across and just east of Relmpago, Texas.
It was there that he met up with Petrita San Miguel. In Culiacn
some time backhe didnt fare as well: an old Italian hand
grenade went off in his hand, and Evaristo lost the hand and every
finger that went with it, right there in the state of Sinaloa.
III
Don Manuel Guzmn met and worked personally with
Obregn and Villa. He started off by selling horses to Obregn and
wound up as a volunteer mine sapper for Villa. He left Villa, as did
many who lived through it, after the disaster at Celaya; back in the
Valley, he tried to settle in Flora but gave that up when he got to
know some of the people. So, it was back to Klail City, and happy
to do so. He spent a few months contacting other revolutionaries;
he also married there, paid some back taxes on some old land, and,
leaving his recent bride, he crossed the Ro riding south toward the
east coast where he joined up with the Constitutional Army in the
Papantla, Veracruz, Military District. This, in great part, explains
his long friendship with Don Vctor Pelez.
Don Manuel married Doa Josefa Carrin, an orphan. Her par-
ents, Julin Carrin and Mara del Pilar Sifuentes, were both tor-
tured and killed by some renegade Apaches during a raid at Seago
Point, Texas. Doa Josefa was a strong woman, and she loved her
husband and understood his ways. Its said of her that she never
listened or contributed to gossip. She raised five children: two of
theirs and three that showed up on the front stoop of their house on
a Holy Saturday afternoon, many years ago. She took them in, and
no one has ever learned why the three chose that house over any of
the others; the five were raised equally, and under the same name.
88 Rolando Hinojosa
The Valley 89
The man knew Obregn well and well enough to be named
First Jailer in the Lecumberri Prison. He joined the Mexican civil
service, life was going well, and he had made certain arrangements
to bring the family to Mexico. This came to a halt when Toral de
Len shot and killed Obregn that peaceful Sunday morning at La
Bombilla Restaurant. Don Manuel resigned soon after and
returned to Klail City where he learned that Doa Josefa, strong
will and all, had been no match for the attorneys and the land
developers; a curious word.
But Don Manuel didnt quit; he went back to breaking horses
and mules for the Tuero family. (There, at the Tuero Ranch, he had
a run in with Javier Leguizamn. Don Manuel knocked him down
and then kicked him out of the corral for good measure; at that
time, Javier Leguizamn acted as hanger-on and messenger-boy
for the Cooke, Blanchard and Klail family interests.)
Later on, Don Manuel operated a dairy farm, and ran three dry
cleaning shops, two of which were in Flora and the third in Ruff-
ing. He made himself some money, and he used much of it to help
other revolutionaries whom he considered less fortunate. As time
went on, Don Domingo Villalobos saw to it that Don Manuel was
hired on as a constable in Klail City in the mexicano neighbor-
hood. The Anglo Texans thought they had come up with a sop for
the mexicanos, but the mexicanos themselves regarded Don
Manuel, as they should have, as one of their own.
Born, as was Braulio Tapia, in 1883, the man, before his eyes
failed him, could read and write Spanish easily enough; English
was something else, and he understood enough to know that it
wasnt for him. His lives, then, were all lived in Spanish.
His eyes arent what they used to be, but he has something else
going for him: friends and their loyalty to see him through.
90
A SUMMERY SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN KLAIL CITY
Look alive! Heads up, Klail! Let him hit, Skin! Watch for that
bunt!
Arturo Leyva, bookkeeper, chimes in with: Go, Big Klail,
nobody hurt!
Arturo isnt sure why he says nobody hurt; he thinks he heard
it somewhere, and hes been saying it for years. This does not
mean that Arturo doesnt speak English, au contraire. But the
nobody hurt remains a mystery to him and to all who know him,
and we should leave it at that; it doesnt always pay to go round
lifting rocks since theres no telling what onell find there.
The games tied, and Arturo, up in the stands, takes notice that
the third baseman moves closer to the line. This Sunday, the Klail
City .30-.30 (The Thirty Caliber Klails) are hosting the Flora White
Sox at Lions Park. The man up, a pinch hitter, is a fine bunter;
Arturo, a keen student of the game, shifts his eyes from the batter to
the third baseman. Its a tough game, too. Lzaro Skinny Pea is
pitching a no-hitter in the first of a scheduled twin bill, as they say.
(Skinny wouldnt give an inch to his own mother if Doa Estela hap-
pened to be in the lineup.) The Sox are up; its the top of the seventh.
On Arturos left sits Manzur Chajn, Lebanese by birth and
candymaker and seller by profession; Lebanese or not, though, the
Valley mexicanos call him el rabe, the Arab. People know better,
of course; they just dont care. Chajn lives in the mexicano
neighborhood and is married to a mexicana named Catarina de
Len (Thats Catarina with an r and not Catalina with an l.) By
the time theyd been married two months or so, Catarina was
already a whiz at making peanut and pecan brittle; he also mixed
peanuts and a fraction of crushed pumpkin seeds and sold them as
almond brittle. For a while, anyway. (Theres no trick to making
peanut brittle; there cant be, not if those two are so good at it.)
Chajn speaks whatever it is that Lebanese speak; but he also
speaks Spanish and, as a loyal Middle-Easterner, he pronounces
The Valley 91
his ps as if they were bs, and says that Don Manuel Guzmn
is a good boliceman and so good he doesnt need a bistol. Chajn
has learned his baseball from Arturo, and in order to enjoy the ball
games to the fullest, he hires kids to hawk the packaged candy
boxes; as he says, Im the berson in charge.
Arturo went to the mens room during the seventh inning
stretch; patting his tummy, he says he feels better, much better.
Baseball is one of the few indulgences owned up to by Arturo
Leyva:
Bookkeepings his profession
and baseballs his obsession.
Yolanda Salazar is Arturos wife, but thats no secret; even the
trees know that. Yolanda is the one and only daughter of Don Epig-
menio Salazar, the proud owner of a king-sized hernia discovered
and left intactjust prior to WWII. The hernia is a bother, to be sure,
but Don Epigmenio has other problems, other troubles and other
social ailments that modesty and time forbid further mention here.
Arturo and his father-in-law have entered into a workable
entente cordiale and are solid allies in a war of nerves (but never
words) against Doa Candelaria Murgua de Salazar. (Thats Mur-
gua with an r and not Mungua with an n.) The chances are
very good (5 to 3) that Arturo has never read or heard of Dr. Nic-
colo di Bernardo Machiavelli (1469-1527), but Arturo is intuitive
(a rare gift among bookkeepers) and he intuits that strength is
forged by strong alliances.
The alliance is a rigorous one; and it has to be, because Doa
Candelaria believes in despotism as a way of preserving peace and
democracy. Arturo, for his part, keeps his eyes open and his mouth
firmly shut. In re Yolanda, theres no trouble on that front: Arturo
takes very good care of business, thank you.
On the field its now the top of the eighth, and Skinnys hang-
ing in there with that little screwball of his that he keeps moving
around the plate: Not one hit (not even if Doa Estela, etc. etc.).
Go .30-.30! Eagle eye, ump!
Arturo . . .
Well?
Nothing, dear, I . . .
Here comes Don Manuel; the man claims no knowledge of this
countrys national pastime; he understands that its a serious game,
though. Don Manuel, as always, is wearing a long-sleeved white
shirt with black tie; its August, and its hot, but youd never know
it to look at him. He stops, and the sun lights up the gold chain that
runs left to right and back again from one shirt pocket to the other.
A Swiss pocket watch attached to one end; both chain and watch are
gifts and parts of Don Manuels share and inheritance left to him by
Don Vctor Pelez in his last will and t.
ARTURO!
Yes, sir, sir.
Yolanda just left, and she says for you to pick her up at your
in laws when this is over.
Yes, sir, thank you.
Arturo Leyva stretches his legs a bit. There . . . He loves Yolan-
da, but shes old enough, he says: she can find her own way home.
And now, Skinnys got his no-hitter in the books; the games at
the top of the tenth, and weve gone into extra innings. But theres
a catch: the Flora Sox carry two Blacks on their team: the Moore
brothers, Clyde and Mann, and theres not a better pitcher-catcher
combination in the Valley. Unfortunately for the home crowd,
Klails .30-.30 is a team referred to in the game as good field, no hit.
Arturo works indoors; hes a bookkeeper, after all. But hes in
good shape, and hes good for the long haul; tonight, for example,
after the double header, hell take Yolanda to the street dance on
Hidalgo St., and from there hell take her straight to bed. As said,
hes good for the long haul.
I think I already mentioned that besides keeping Yolanda in
line, he also keeps her happy; probably amounts to the same thing.
92 Rolando Hinojosa
93
A LEGUIZAMN FAMILY PORTRAIT
The first Leguizamn arrived in Belken County after 1865;
after all had been said and done with, as they say. Some wound up
in what is now called the town of Bascom, and others settled near
Flora; later on, some went to the north end of the Valley, toward
Ruffing, while others branched eastward toward Jonesville-on-the-
Ro. At one time, they were about to join the Calvillos, the Suris
and the Celaya families, but no marriage contracts were ever
agreed to.
The proposed marriages dissolved and were forgotten. It was
just one of those things. The second generation of Leguizamns
came and went, and theyre the ones who grabbed the land they
first nestered in. The original mexicano families said it was all
right with them since there was enough land for everybody. A third
generation came along, and lost part of the land, but the fourth
generation got it back in spades and is still hanging on to it.
The first Leguizamns were tough enough to hold on against
the Southern Anglos many of whom came to the Valley holding a
Bible in one hand and a gun in the other when they brought the
Good News.
Clemente Leguizamn, the same one who was killed in Freitas
as he helped the rinches in one of the first shootouts against the
Vilches and Malacara families, sired five, and well talk about
these here.
His first wife was the barren Carmelita Hennington who,
according to the old mexicanos, was a quadroon; anythings possi-
ble, of course. His second wife was a not too distant relative of his:
Diamantina Lerdo. The five Leguizamns were looking at, from
left to right, then, are Leguizamn-Lerdo.
Diamantina died as mad as she could possibly be after being
bitten several times by a rabid dog as Diamantina alighted from
94 Rolando Hinojosa
her carriage after High Mass. This happened in 1904, the driest
year in Belken County history. No rain fell in the Valley that year,
and that included the extra day in February. (That same year, as a
consequence of the long drought and millions of votary promises
made to the Church at Klail, seven wains (wanes, as the Valley
people still say) from Edgerton and Klail City jammed with peo-
ple, rosaries and a priest or two, headed for a shrine in San Juan de
los Lagos, Jalisco, to pray to the Virgin there so that it would rain
over here, in Belken County.
(Julin Buenrostro, a younger brother of Don Jess, El quieto,
was born aboard the lead wagon on its way from Klail to Edger-
ton.)
The Henningtons left the Valley without a trace; they were
there, and then: poof!, just like that, they disappeared. Talk persists
that they went south, to Veracruz. The Lerdos came to the Valley
in the same wagon train as the Buenrostros, back there when
Escandn led the first settlers on both sides of the Ro Grande Val-
ley in 1749. They, too, were from Quertaro, but the Lerdos were
a weak-blooded, watered-down lot: most of them died before they
were fifty years old. (Reaching the age of fifty was the exception,
really; the Lerdo union with the Leguizamns helped the Lerdo
blood somewhat, and then only as it concerns longevity.)
The Leguizamn-Lerdo family dropped the Lerdo end of it just
prior to the Great War; the following identifies each member
chronologically: l) Csar died at age 45 in 1927; the irony here is
that he was shot by those same Rangers he had sided with against
the mexicanos during the early troubles of 1901-1903; the subse-
quent ones in 1915; and, the last serious one in 1923. 2) Alejandro,
the tallest, a gambler and womanizer but no coward, also sided
with the Anglo Texans; his reward was not an insignificant one:
some eight thousand black dirt acres in Ruffing. Alejandro was
found dead by the early crowd on its way to mass at the Our Lady
of Mercy Church. Alejandros head had been bashed in and his
brains scrambled somewhat with a tire iron found lying across his
chest. 3) Antonia. She married one of the rich Blanchards, and her
sons and daughters, one by one, made Anglo Texans of themselves
thus also dropping the Leguizamn tag to their name. 4 & 5) Javier
and Martn, male twins, inherited the lands out in Edgerton. Martn
was done in by good Napoleon brandy and a bad liver before he hit
thirty; Javier, then, is the only surviving male, not as young as he
would like to believe; his hair has the same color and consistency
as that of General of the Army Douglas MacArthur, who now rests
in p.
Javier and Don Manuel, when both were in their late twenties,
got into a brief but furious scuffle. Javier bit off more than he could
possibly chew, and, as a result, Don Manuel flattened his nose for
him. This took place at the Tuero Family Ranch during the
horsebreaking roundup. At that time, as now, Javier Leguizamn
belonged to a small group of mexicanos who sided with the Anglo
Texans. His early profits amounted to a fair sized chunk of western
county land, as said.
Javier was married, and still is, to Angelita Villalobos, daugh-
ter to Don Domingo Villalobos; the same Don Domingo who per-
sonally brought relative peace to the Valley by meeting, talking,
and convincing everyone that peace had to come, and that the time
was now. It sounds simple enough, but Don Domingo commanded
both honor and respect from both sides.
Don Domingo was not without a sense of humor, though: after
a first, brief, meeting with his future son-in-law, Don Domingo
insisted on calling him hijo; son. And, he always smiled when he
called him that; it was the smile, you see, because what was left
out was de la chingada or of a bitch.
As time went on, Javier added to his capital by branching out
into the wholesale grocery business and, later on, added a chain of
department stores. Jeh Malacara worked in one of the former as
a stacker, price marker and messenger boy.
Javier continued his land trading, and he went after women in
the same fashion. One of these was Viola Barragn, at that time a
The Valley 95
recent widow, and, among the Valley women, the most desirable.
Another one was Gela Maldonado who milked him fairly often,
and who also opened up a department store on her own. As the
evil-tongued said, Why not? She had experience along those
lines.
Its possible that the history of the earliest Leguizamn may be
of more decided interest than that of the above, but thats another
story for another time. Of the five in this family portrait, only two
remain as we have seen: Antonia and Javier, although neither has
seen nor spoken to the other in years, as often happens in the very
best of families.
Another point of fact: Antonia does not care (may resent, even)
to be reminded of her mexicano blood, but let he who is without
sin cast the first etcetera.
Javier isnt a mexicano at all, of course; the man is a Leguiza-
mn, and the Leguizamns, as is well known, are motherless; they
were all given birth by a so and so.
96 Rolando Hinojosa
97
BETO CASTAEDA
Dead at thirty years of age at his home on 169 South Hidalgo
Street in Klail City, Belken County Texas, Beto Castaeda, mar-
ried to Marta Castaeda ne Cordero.
A hard and willing worker, he had five years of formal educa-
tion, but he knew the earth, its products and the seasons as well as
any academic who takes pain and pride to master his own specialty.
His parents diedwere killedin that often talked about
train/ truck accident in Flora years ago; a Mo-Pac freight bowled
over the truck and its cab, killing thirty-three of the thirty-six field
hands who were on their way to the Schunior lettuce fields.
(Before the week was out, the Ayala Brothers wrote words and
music to a corrido relating the incident; the Acosta Printing Shop
came out with over two thousand copies of sheet music for piano
and guitar; this was then followed by a record cut by guila
Records in Corpus Christi.) Betos parents were among those
killed, as said, when the trucks engine stalled coming up the
grade; it stopped in the middle of the tracks.
Beto was injured slightly, and he was taken in by the Meja
family; Beto enrolled at First Ward school (the mexicano school in
Klail) the following year at age eight after Don Albino Cordero
told the Mejas to educate the boy. As is well known, many years
later Beto married Don Albinos only daughter, Marta.
By the time he was fifteen years old, Beto had made six round
trips up North: one with Vctor Jara, El pirul, Sugarman. El pirul,
on that trip, kept most of the money that the Skinner Produce Co.
had provided for the migrant workers food on the trip from the
Valley to the fields of southwestern Michigan. The produce com-
pany sent the money to a bank in San Antonio; the truck driver, in
this case El pirul, received a check from the bank, and he was sup-
posed to distribute the advance to the workers at so much and so
much a head. He doled out some, but not all, then or ever; and
dont think he returned the rest of the money to Skinner Produce.
Beto also made two trips north with Sabas Balderas: one on a
cherry-picking contract to Benton Harbor and St. Joseph, Mich.,
the second one to northern MichiganTraverse Cityon another
cherry-picking contract. The other three he made with the Cant
brothers trucking firm; on the last and sixth trip, in his teens, he
went up as an assistant driver: he spoke English better than most on
the Tex.-Michigan route (Klail City-Texarkana-Poplar Bluff-
Kankakee-New Buffalo).
Serious, somewhat reserved though not aloof nor pretentious
in manner, he died of cancer at age thirty. His death does away
with the last witness who, more than anyone else, knew the true,
unvarnished reasons for that fatal stabbing at the Aqu me quedo a
couple of years back.
The Tamez brothers, despite the death of their brother Ernesto,
did not bother him in any way; now that Beto is dead and his broth-
er-in-law, Balde Cordero, in the Doree Unit up in Huntsville
Prison, Marta and Doa Mercedes Cordero are now at the mercy
of the State of Texas.
To date, no one comes to mind as being Betos equal in packing
the type of vegetable labeled as thick and weighty: beets, broccoli,
spinach, cabbage, cucumber and lettuce. Once, around age nineteen
or so, he and Chale Villaln met in a mano-a-mano in a lettuce cut-
ting and packing contest; Beto spotted him a case and a half advan-
tage at the start, and they were to work four hours straight without a
break. Beto caught up and then beat Chale by three-fourths of a case
to spare. As far as Beto was concerned, though, the best tomato
packer of them all was his brother-in-law, Balde Cordero. No argu-
ment there, he said . . . (Old Man Zeplveda was the best all-around
packer, and the old timers kept bringing this up, but Old Z. was a
heavy user of grass and can be discounted.)
When it came to arm wrestling, there were only two men in the
entire Valley who bested him; the first was Ismael Contreras, the
98 Rolando Hinojosa
The Valley 99
all-time champ, and the other was Chago Lerma who was as tough
right-handed as he was left-handed.
Beto was buried next to his parents at the mexicano Catholic
cemetery in Klail; the Vega brothers were in charge, and Don
Rosendo Estapa, who works for the Klail City Water District, gave
the first eulogy.
Beto Castaeda, 1941-1971, one of a kind. R.I.P.
100
COYOTES
is one of the kinder names given to the fauna that is often seen but
seldom heard in and around the halls of the Belken County Court
House. Theyre not county employees, but they do nothing to dis-
courage that impression: a white shirt, tie or, if women, high-
heeled shoes and pantyhose. They occupy no office space; instead,
they work both the halls and the innocents who come to that most
inhibiting of Anglo Texan institutions, the aforementioned Papal
See of Belken County.
Theyre not attorneys-at-law, either, but they speak, read and
write English, are familiar with the simplest of forms, and thus
enjoy a clear advantage over any mexicano who walks in with that
well-known, long, white, window-addressed envelope.
The coyotes are also up on the latest gossip, and they enjoy
another decided advantage: theyre sinvergenzas, absolutely bald
faced types incapable of knowing or of being shamed by anything
or by anyone at any time. So, when one of Gods lambs wanders
in, theyre on him like stripes on a tiger. As said, the humble, who
know nothing about anything, usually walk in with an unopened
envelope: most likely the postman brought it that very morning,
and off they go straight to the Court House; as the coyotes say, It
beats working.
Adrin Peralta, coyote, hails from Edgerton, drives daily to
Klail (Sats. & Suns. excluded), is wearing an up-to-date, dressy,
narrow brimmed hat, white shirted and an orange-white-purple tie
(a tarpon fish miniature serves as a tie clip), his face smiling but
his eyes not, a pencil line mustache, and, back to his eyes again, a
yellowish-brown pair that have seen just about everything there is
to be seen. In appearance, then, what the cognoscenti call natty
but in what he is pleased to call: good taste. His voice, mellow,
without a trace of a nasality, which is proof enough that up to now
no ones broken his nose for him. He is quite democratic, he says,
and there he is, tipping his hat, nodding his head and smiling to
one and all: the short and the tall; males and females; judges and
cons; whores and pimps; etc. . . .
Can I be of any service to you today, sir?
Well . . . I . . . ah . . . Its this here paper, dont you see. It came
in today, in this mornings mail, in fact . . . and . . . well, I was . . . ah,
it says Court House on it, see it? And, well, I just . . .
My name is Adrin Peralta, sir. Im at your service and all I
need is your name.
My name? Oh. My names Marcial de Anda, sir. Don Mar-
cial who just sirred the coyote is over seventy-five years old, hes
a candy maker, and he has three churchgoing bachelor sons: Juan,
Emerardo and Marcial Junior, and one daughter, Jovita, who had
to marry Joaqun Tamez. Mention of this last has been made else-
where.)
May I?
Please? Oh, yessir; here you are.
At what the Germans refer to as the psychological impulse,
Peralta gives out a long, almost private, mmmmmmmmmmmmm-
mmmmmmm, steeped in mystery. (Artillery bombardment to soft-
en the troops.) From there, he stares at Don Marcial and, before the
fidgeting starts, another look at the envelope. (Reconnaissance
patrols, radio and machine gun jeeps in working order.) And now
Peralta opens the envelope and reads the letter. (The gathering of
prisoners for intelligence purposes.) He takes Don Marcial by the
elbow. (Mission completed, its now a matter of filling and filing
the reports.)
The pair go from office to office; people walking around,
drinking coffee, some are typing, others stare blankly at a stack of
papers on their desksand on to another office and still another.
Peralta looks at his watch and asks for so and so and then for some
other so and so; no, hes not here. I dont know where he is.
Thanks. Another office, and Peralta smiles down to the candy
The Valley 101
maker. (Good report, boys, well just send this on down to battal-
ion.)
This is it, friend de Anda. Im going to get to the bottom of
this, and Ill do it before you can count to three; and, speaking of
three, you think you can rustle up three ones for me? Its delicate,
I know, but one must grease this heavy bureaucratic machinery, if
you know what I mean?
Don Marcial nods but has no idea what the man is talking
about; with the mention of money, though, he comes up with two
one-dollar bills and a third one in change.
Peralta takes the money, keeps it in his hand and as he begins
to walk away, he points to a small glassed-in stall:
Right there, he says. Now, be sure to ask for Miss Espinoza;
you cant miss her: shes the one with the permanent and the glass-
es.
Miss Espinoza is a mexicana, of course. She is also something
special: As she says, I speak Spanish to the taxpayers, and the
supervisors can go to hell and stay there. She smiles at Don Mar-
cial and says, Qu tal, seor? Cmo est, usted?
Its the tax assessors office, and Don Marcials name has come
up on the jury wheel for the first time in his seventy-five-year exis-
tence in B. County.
No, you dont have to serve right now; this is only a notice,
Mr. de Anda . . . A notice; and it says that you may be called up
during this session, but that may not come up until the end of the
year, though. Here, keep this envelope; you come and see me on
November 7got that? The seventh . . . Thats right . . . What?
No, no, no; no money, were here to help.
Miss Espinoza takes time to warn him not to go around giving
his money to the County Court House Coyote Pack. Don Marcial
nods.
Free! Home! He barely hears the admonition, and since he
doesnt have to shell out his remaining dollar and seventy-five
cents (its four seventy-five for a candy makers permit) hes
102 Rolando Hinojosa
already forgotten about the three he gave to the coyote. Hell also
forget Miss Espinozas advice: hes going home and in peace; until
the next envelope.
Peraltas having his first cup of coffee at the lounge; its a mat-
ter of principle: he wont drink coffee until hes had his first cus-
tomer, he says. Hes also on his feet in case, just in case, another
one of Gods lambs should show up. And they will. They always
do, he says. And hes right . . . wide-eyed and lost, looking up and
down, north to south, and left to right, east to west and then:
Good morning, seora. My name is Adrin Peraltamay I
help you in anyway?
Oh . . . Well, its this envelope. It came in this mornings mail,
and . . .
The Valley 103
104
BURNIAS
People. A fair-sized majority, Id say, dont believe that it is so,
but luck (and time and memory) comes and goes like the tides out
in the Gulf. When it comes to luck, some have more good luck
than others; some have less, and some have luck that is mostly bad;
then there are those whose luck appears to be everlastingly bad
and, like Menckens ten-minute egg, beyond redemption.
Heres Melitn Burnias whose luck has been bad as long as
anyone can remember. The trouble is, though, that he doesnt cut
a tragic figure (Oedipus, Lear, Millard Fillmore) and so, those who
know him dont sympathize at all; they merely laugh. Its a ner-
vous laugh, but a laugh, nevertheless.
Burnias lives from day to day and tries to do so unobtrusively
by keeping a low profile, as it were. To add to his bad luck, he lives
in Flora, and the people there wont ever let you keep your own
bad breath, as they say. Because of this, and his own bad luck, Bur-
nias is up against it most of the time, and things then go from bad
to worse and back again. Example (one and only one ought to do
it): His oldest daughter, Tila, could have married in the local
church, but no, she eloped with Prxedes Cervera, and heres what
happened when they were back in Flora: they threw Burnias out in
the street. Just like that. (This is the same Burnias who, on anoth-
er occasion, and during a typical streak of bad luck, hooked up
with Bruno Cano on an ill-fated treasure hunt.)
Martn Lalanda, Flora born and raised, is not an unlucky per-
son; far from it, really. The mans a successful merchant, he owns
some land, he farms on shares, and he is a former (but not too
silent) partner of The Gold Curl barbershop. Lalanda also owns
a truck; its one of those flat-nosed Internationals which the Belken
mexicanos call chatos. The truck is now mostly used to bring or,
depending, to take gravel from place to place on a contract basis.
What follows, then, happened about eight years ago: Lalanda
hired Burniasas a favorto drive that old gravel truck for him,
but when the local underwriter got wind of this piece of business,
he rushed over to see Lalanda, and said, Its not a conflict at all,
Mr. Lalanda. If you decide to keep him on, we drop the coverage;
its as simple as all that. (The truth, first, foremost, and always,
was that Burnias had a running account with the Department of
Public Safety; and the underwriter knew this, somehow.) Lalanda
shook his head and waited for Burnias to drive up.
When it comes to money, Lalanda is, in a word, snug; but he is
not a bad sort. (The oldest man with the best memory in all of
Belken County is named Esteban Echevarra; and he swears that
Lalanda has never bought as much as a bottle of beer for anyone,
anytime, anywhere. Snug, then, but not a bad person.)
So, Burnias lost his job, and here comes the sky ready to fall on
him again. But, to repeat, Lalanda isnt a bad person, and he knew
full well that Burnias had no place to light that night, or the fol-
lowing, etc. Lalanda told Burnias he could sleep in the cab or under
the truck bed. Wherever. And so, the truck went up and down in
Belken County by day, and by night it served as lodgings for Bur-
nias who washed it, cleaned and polished it, thus earning his keep.
It happened that one day Old Man Chandlerhes got some
good river-bank land out by Relmpagoneeded a temporary
hand out there, and Burnias learned of it. He went to see him and
was told that it was brief (3 days) and steady (16 hours a day). Bur-
nias took it, started to work early on a Friday morning and finished
the clearing late that Sunday night. After putting everything away,
oiling the hoes and rakes and shovels and clippers, he cleaned out
the barn for good measure; Burnias then went to the porch where
Old Man Chandler, as luck would have it, was fresh out of ice-cold
lemonade. Burnias understood, nodded and said he was ready for
his pay. With that, Old Man Chandler nodded as well and paid
Burnias but not in money. Burnias was paid in kind: a pig.
Its a Duroc, Melitn; the best there is. I aint got the money.
All I gots the pig, Burnias; you take him.
Diddled again, Burnias thought. And so, he and his pig set out
for Lalandas International. The pig trailed behind him, and it was
The Valley 105
a sweet little thing, docile, which is usually not the case with
Durocs, Poland Chinas or any kind of pig; pigs are usually bright
and unusually mean. A tough combination.
Burnias was dead tired and dropped off under the truck bed; the
pig did the same. At daybreak, Lalanda and his driver found the pair
fast asleep, and Lalanda decided to wake up the one who could talk.
Explanations were offered, taken and then Burnias came up
with a plan: I need two dollars, Mr. Lalanda. I aim to buy me some
corn for him there, and then give him as much water as hell hold.
Itll take a few days, maybe a week, but hell fill out; you wait and
see. When thats done, well sell him and make us some money.
Lalandas ear pearted up on the us and on the money. He
reached for his coin purse, and said, Heres two-fifty. It went as
Burnias said it would; that Duroc ate the corn and Burnias kept the
water coming. Lalanda rearranged some of his thoughts in re Bur-
nias; caught short, Lalanda thought he had come up with an up-to-
now undiscovered talent in Melitn. Thursday came, and the two
partners heaved and pushed Burnias property onto the gravel truck
and then drove off to the weekly stock sales in Klail City.
Lalanda went to park the truck, and Burnias led his pig to the
disinfecting station. Burnias waited for Lalanda and once the
Duroc had had his bath, the partners presented their pig to a young
Federal veterinarian: thin, sallow, face full of brown freckles and
matching sunglasses, he wore a white coat which came to his
knees. He was a young one. The vet looked at the three figures fac-
ing him, and without a word of greeting pried the pigs mouth open
and scraped its tongue. The Duroc snorted a bit, and moved closer
to Burnias. The vet then walked around and bent over: he flicked
at the pigs penis and the Duroc urinated into a flask containing
some light green liquid; he kept his eye on the pig and said, Hes
a mild one, aint he? Lalanda nodded and Burnias looked at
Lalanda; the vet shook the flask and in a couple of minutes, the liq-
uid had turned a deep forest green. Looking at Burnias this time,
he said: Im sorry, sir, but this pigs sick. You cant sell him.
No? Bu. . . .
Wha?
Pigs got worms in his kidney; its a disease called Stepha-
narus dentatus. Know what I mean? Best thing to do is to kill him
and bury him. Cant sell him.
Burnias and Lalanda looked at each other, and then both
looked at the pig. Nodding, they went back to the truck and loaded
him up again.
Im telling you, Melitn, your luck is so bad, that dogsll line
up to pee on you, you know that?
Burnias nodded again, and said, Yeh, I guess so; but why stop
at dogs? Pigsll do it, if you let em.
Lalanda, with no touch of malice whatever, laughed aloud and
Burnias shook his head and laughed a while later.
Lets go home, Melitn, the day aint over yet. Lalanda start-
ed the truck, and they drove away from the KC Stock Yards. They
drove without looking back and without a further word for the next
half hour. Each rolled a cigarette, smoked it, rolled another and
smoked that one, too. Finally, Lalanda coughed a bit, spit and said,
Tell you what, Melitn; lets you n me drive on over to Relm-
pago, and well sell this fatted pig to Old Man Chandler.
Burnias turned to Lalanda and shook his head. But Mr. Lalan-
da, I got the pig from him in the first place.
I know that, well just pop over and sell em the damn thing.
Ha! He wont want to buy itIll say he wontso you know
what well do next? Well give it to him; yeah; unload it right there,
next to the other pigs, thats what well do.
You, ah, you want to run that one by again?
Listen. The man wont want to buy it, but he cant refuse a
gift, right? Its an insult. Well just back up to the pig sty, is what
well do. And since he cant refuse the giftbut if he trieswe
can always ask him why? and if we do, what can he say? That the
damn things got worms? Well unload it, thats all.
You think thatll work?
Leave it to me, Burnias. Ill do the talking.
The Valley 107
c c c
It worked; Old Man Chandler had his back braced against the
fence there, but he paid the twenty-seven dollars Burnias had com-
ing to him. Burnias took it, and Lalanda said, Well take em off
your hands, Mr. Chandler, but itll cost you five more.
Old Man Chandler pursed his lips, but Lalanda deflected that
one; he reached into his shirt pocket and said, Want to roll one
while you think it over?
Otis Chandler shook his head and forked over the five ones. On
the way to the truck, Lalanda took the two-fifty he had given Bur-
nias, and then an extra dollar: Thats for gas, Melitn.
That evening, Burnias walked into German Salinas place and
drank himself silly: he couldnt stop laughing, and he wouldnt stop
drinking, and he stayed there until closing time not bothering any-
one. The usual crowd was there at closing time; Burnias motioned
to Germn and said, rather quietly, Set em up for the boys there;
and give em quarts if thats what they want. With that he made his
way to the truck, but he stopped. He may have been thinking about
his former sleeping companion for he hesitated and then decided to
sleep it off in the watermelon patch, snakes or no snakes. Tomor-
row morning hed wake up with a hangover about the size of the
gravel truck, but hed have something at hand to see him through: a
dewy cool, sweet, black diamond Arkansas jewel watermelon.
c c c
I guess people just dont understand about luck, and thats why
people are usually fighting, kicking, scratching and gouging; they
should learn to hold back. When luck comes calling, people want
it to be good, and for them alone; well, it doesnt work that way at
all. It never has. Luck should be looked upon as a woman: some-
times women feel like it, and sometimes they dont. When they do,
they choose the one they want, and the chosen wont be the wiser.
He wont even know what brought that on. Lucks like that, too;
man should not always heed the advice about seek and ye shall
find. Advice is made up of words, not action.
109
DON JAVIER
Ive kept Gela in high style for the last thirteen years, and now
she up and tells me that she and that dried-up sister of hers are
leaving Klail; that theyre thinking of going off to sell work clothes
out in the ranches somewhere.
And whats taking Jeh so long, anyway? Well, as soon as he
comes in, out he goes again with another letter to her.
Damn! Of all the dumb luck, and today, too . . . Angelita
wants to celebrate our silver wedding anniversary. Why? Do peo-
ple still do things like that?
But its my fault: I gave in to Angelita. Im going soft in
the head, thats all . . . A party celebrating our twenty-fifth wed-
ding anniversary. Jesus! It just shows what a soft-heart will do. I
shouldntve given in.
(Gela is tougher than dollar steak; shes a terror in bed, on the
floor, in a tub, day or night. Theyre not many of them left in that
league.)
No two ways about it: I know whos to blame for this change;
its that sack full o bones sister of hers. And I know what she
needs.
And where in hell is Jeh, anyway?
110
EMILIO TAMEZ
Thats Emilio Tamez over there; damn good thing he doesnt
need glasses, cause you need two ears to hold em up.
The man wasnt born that way, you know; he raised hell at
Don Florentinos cantina one night, and Young Murillo just walked
up to him and sliced an ear off.
You mean, like a slice o bread or something?
Yeh, just like that. And hes a gimp, too, and he wasnt born
that way either. It happened like this: damfool mustve been about
eleven years old at the time, and there he was on the railroad
tracks, jumping from car to car, when he slipped on a piece of
broccoli, and landed on his knee. Damfool. They took him to a
bone-healer, but it wasnt any use: that leg was meant to be short-
er than the other, and it stayed that way.
There he goes.
Yeah . . . its the law of compensation all over again: he limps
on the left side and is deaf on the right. You wouldnt know it to
look at him, but he reads and writes English and Spanish. A tee-
total bilingual, he is; but, with all that going for him, hes still a
damfool.
111
AUNTIE PANCHITA
Whos sick, and where is he?
This way, Auntie, right through there.
Goodness, its Rafe . . . What is it, child?
Well, we dont know exactly. He started to stammer all of a
sudden, and then he caught some sort of chill, and now, look at
him: hes running that fever.
I see; close the curtains and turn off those lights, will you? All
right now, everybody out. Scoot!, and close that door.
Auntie Panchita took a brownish-looking egg from an ordinary
grocery bag and made a sign of the cross around Rafe Buenrostros
face; after this, she made another sign covering the length of his
body, and she began to pray:
Prayer, incantation and psalm for the cure of the calamities
brought on by fright and dread which afflict the body, mind, heart
and soul, amen.
Gods own creature, I shall cure you and anoint you in the
Holy Name of the Lord and His Holy Ghost: three distinct persons,
but only one True God.
Offering: Name the saints! St. Roque, yea, St. Sebastian, yea!
Eleven thousand virgins, and all of whom and through whom, Your
own passion and ascension will then deign to cure this creature so
afflicted by the eye of the damned evilness, of fright and dread,
yea!, and burning fever, which is reminiscent of Sheol to cure, I
say, to cure any other disease, illness or affliction which You and
no other, Lord, and your sacrosanct mysteries will cure, heal and
thus alleviate. Amen. Amen. (Say Amen, Rafe! Rafe! Dont just
shake your head, boy . . . Oh, well.)
Auntie Panchita bent and made three more signs of the cross,
and then repeated the psalm and the offering two more times after
that; this over, she took and broke the brownish egg in a green-
colored plate which she then placed under Rafes bed. As for Rafe
Buenrostro, he took knowingly or not, a deep, deep breath and
dropped off to a sleep which lasted a day and a half.
Auntie Panchita left rather hurriedly, as she usually did, any-
way; saying shed be back on Wednesday. Always the busiest of
women: she made her hurried goodbyes to all, reminded everyone
she wouldnt be available that afternoon, going, as she was, to assist
at the baptism of Lino Carrizaless youngest, just recently born.
113
EPIGMENIO SALAZAR
This one owns a good-sized house with four rooms to let plus
a further bit of personal property, to wit: a hiatal hernia thats
allowed him not to turn a lick of work dating back to before WWII.
Epigmenio sees many things and reads a lot more into them; to
add to this, those matters which he actually does not see, or wit-
ness, are then left to his ample imagination. In this way, he says,
he doesnt have to go on inactive servicehe keeps his hand in, so
to speak.
For example, he knows what went on between the fry cook
over at the El Fnix Caf, and that youngish girl at the pharmacy,
directly across the street; and, he also knows from three disinter-
ested witnesses (best evidence) what it is that truly ails Young
Murillos newest wife.
Now, what he would like to know is how the hell he happened
to come up with that fat-sized hiatal hernia of his.
114
FIRA, A BLONDE NOT HAVING TOO MUCH FUN
Straight on and from the shoulder, now: Fira is a whore, and she
has been called that and more. In antiquity, Fira would have had
other names: Alicaria. Caserita. Copa. Diabola. Foraria. Nocti vigi-
lia. Peregrina. Proseda. Quadrantaria. Scrantia. Scrota. Vaga. A
whore, then. But, a whore with a difference: she does not act like one
(as housemaids sometimes do), she doesnt whore around (as the
servant girls mistresses sometimes do) and no flirting, no, not at all.
She has blue eyes, she wears her hair short and she neither dyes
nor tints it. Her body would soon put a halt, for once and for all, to
Father Zamudios hiccups, or whatever he chooses to call them.
Shes not from here either; shes a native of Jonesville-on-the-
Ro: the daughter of a mexicana from Jonesville and an Anglo ser-
viceman from Fort Jones; shes neither the first nor the last of that
kind, but, and the truth as always, she is a beauty. Simply put, then,
the most beautiful woman in the Valley.
Ill tell you who knows everything there is to know about
Jonesville-on-the-Ro: thats Don Amrico Paredes.
Our blond Fira is a serious woman who carries her whoredom
as school girls carry their tote bags: naturally and with no affecta-
tion. And, after her daily bath, she smells of soap and water, and
when out on the street, on her way to work, her hair, damp still,
curls on the side of her face close to her ears.
My uncle Andrs has several illegitimate sons, and one of
them, Flix Champin, runs one of my uncles cantinas, and thats
where she works; Fira doesnt dance and neither does she go from
table to table; and shes not a drink-cadger nor a flirt. In short, she
doesnt carry on and such. (Cervantes, through Don Quixote, once
said that the go-betweens had, perforce, to be serious people of
some repute for the good of the Republic; no argument there, but
the whoring occupation in a run-down cantina of a still poorer
town is no laughing matter either.)
The Klail City women know who she is, what she is, but they
leave it at that; which is as it should be. Women, in the longer run,
are a far sight more understanding in those matters; murmuring,
then, is kept to a minimum.
Trouble is that Fira always faces facts head on; Klail is a town
with a short supply of cash, and shes got to be moving on to
Jonesville. Shame.
The Valley 115
116
ARTURO LEYVA
When Arturo married Yolanda Salazar, only daughter of Don
Epigmenio (he-who-does-no-work), he already had a job with To -
rres Bros., the owners of that two-story red brick grocery store.
Arturo is a bookkeeper for them; he stays out of his fathers dog
house by tending to the mans accounts for free: nobodys fool,
Arturo also milks a bit here and there from various businesses run
by his mother-in-law and thus Don Epigmenio manages to have
spending money once in a while. This, of course, is done behind the
generous backside of Doa Candelaria Murgua de Salazar, wife
and particular cross of the Knight of the Woeful Hernia.
As is well known in the Free World, chicken pox lasts a little
over two weeks, which is about as long as Doa Candelaria gets to
keep help around the house.
For instance, she once hired Tere Malacara, R.I.P., and Tere
lasted but two days: one with Epigmenio chasing her and the sec-
ond with Arturo doing the same. Tere was poor, a bit underweight,
but she was also honest; these are matters which too infrequently
are found in one and the same person.
Needless to say, Tere told each and every one of the Salazars,
again individually and severally, as it were, what it was they could
do with their job.
117
DON MANUEL GUZMN
Erstwhile dairyman, a former owner of three dry cleaning shops,
a one-time partner of a bakery shop and the ex-policeman of the Klail
City mexicano neighborhoods (vecindades). That was one of Don
Manuels lives.
Heres another: Pen, horse breaker, ex-revolutionary, he fol-
lowed that well-known trail: Villa, Obregn and, finally, Decep-
tion.
Born in the Campacus Rancheras (Hidalgo County), State of
Texas, he was a Grand Master at three-card monte. He knew how
to (and often did) mark cards, and he did it with a pin, at times a
needle, dipped in the faintest red tint (it fades faster).
How it was that he came to be a lawman in the mexicano part
of Klail is not known to this writer.
In another set of lives, he worked in the rice fields; as a gandy
dancer; and, for a season or two, he herded sheep in Wyoming.
Restless, but not to be taken as a sign of nerves, he was also fortu-
nate in marriage: his wife, Doa Josefa, was at both strong and
understanding, and who, from Don Manuels own lips, Kept those
two partners in evil, the Church and the general populace in check
and away from their personal lives.
The man neither smoked nor drank, but could outcurse anyone
in Belken County; also, try as he could, he never got the hang of
suffering fools gladly or otherwise. An expert narrator (but not,
alas, of jokes), his one weakness, if that, was spent on his five sons
and daughters. The youngest son aside, he was fortunate to have
seen the first of many grandchildren named after him.
His death, as some would perhaps neither suppose nor imag-
ine, was a peaceful one; for a man who lived several lives, and
some of these in peril, cold and hunger, a cerebral stroke laid him
low and rather unexpectedly while sitting on the edge of the bed
waiting for his wife to remove his high top shoes.
118
DON GENARO CASTAEDA, MASTER HOUSEPAINTER
Lucas Barrn, the owner of the cantina Aqu me quedo, is
called Dirty Luke.
Prefers beer to water, does he?
Its like he says, If its so
good for you, why do they go
around blessing the dam
thing for, anyway?
Among Dirtys regulars, one of my favorites is Don Genaro
Castaeda, a Master Housepainter. Once, many years ago, this
government called him to arms: We need your service in the
defense of the nation against its enemies, foreign and domestic;
furthermore, your services are also needed to preserve our way of
life, liberty and etc.
It was the first of this centurys World Wars, and the Master
entrained for San Antonio for his physical (where a man in white
sticks his middle finger up yours as a probe for hemorrhoids, or is
it the prostate?). From there, to some military camp, the location
of which has remained a mystery to this day. It wasnt long before
he boarded a ship (under New York Port Authority auspices, one
would think) and headed ever eastward until it reached France,
where the fighting was going on at the time; of this, he is most cer-
tain.
From what Master Castaeda says, it wasnt so bad: He under-
stood some English by then, he was paid just about every month,
but with no idea where to spend it. Also, he says there was at least
one hot meal every day, and sometimes two, or three, even.
He recalls that during a stand-to, he felt something tap him
lightly on the forehead; he reached up, got it and looked at it: bout
the size of a bee-bee, he said. He looked at it some more, and there
being no blood anywhere, he just flipped it in a standing puddle of
water in front of his trench.
At another time, he did come up with a nasty scratch from
some barbed wire, and this is how he spilled some blood on French
soil. When the cannon finally stopped their firing once and for all
during that first go round, he was put aboard another ship, west-
ward this time, and then by train all the way to San Antonio. They
gave me some more money, he says. And then, they gave me a
ticket, by bus this time, and it brought me here to Klail again.
Hes never left either Klail or Belken County since.
A peaceful man, the Master, as many other housepainters here,
is a good beer drinker, or was; he says he never turned down
whiskey, wine or whatever was available. It may be endemic to the
profession. If thats the way it is, one should let it go at that.
He must be some seventy-five years old by now, but he still
paints once in a while, and hell have a drink or two, although this
also depends on how his livers acting up. Klail City probably isnt
much different from the rest of the world out there, and so, he and
his two best friends, Leal and Echevarra (theyre all about the
same age), talk about whatever it is that old men always talk about.
As for me, it was by pure chance I discovered that he was a vet-
eran of the Great War. I was in Korea myself, and although we
share something, somehow, I cant bring myself to ask, bother,
perhaps importune him, most likely, about how it was Over There.
It could be, too, that what happened to him happened to me. It
doesnt matter how much one tries to explain, one gives up trying to
describe the experience. Finally, the realization hits that it doesnt
really matter to anyone else.
The Klail City American Legion Post is a World War II prod-
uct, and the name on the door belongs to Pfc. Joseph T. Hargan
who fell, their very words, in the Salerno battle action. Chances are
that these Legionnaires and their now weight-conscious wives,
whose houses have been painted by Maistro Castaeda, have no
The Valley 119
idea that he was in France a generation before. It probably isnt
important to them . . .
As he says, The way I understand it, Rafe, for them to name
it after me, I should have died over there. The way I see it, though,
no honors that big.
Here he comes now.
Don Genaro, you doing all right?
Oh, hello, Rafe; yes, doing well, thank you.
What can I get for you this time?
Oh, Ill take a Pearl n another for Echevarra, and make it a
Jax for Leal.
Ill take em on over to the booth, Maistro. It wont take a
minute.
Thanks, son.
Don Genaro Castaeda, Master Housepainter, makes his way
to the booth; the pool players stop, nod to him in greeting, and I
pick and choose the coldest beers in the house for him, Leal and
Echevarra.
121
NIGHT PEOPLE
At sundown, our fellow Texans across the tracks close their
shops and head for home; at sundown, on this side of the tracks,
suppers have been downed, lights go on and voices are heard and
names and words distinguished and spoken by the old, the middle-
aged and the young.
Well, I heard the other day that the Sooner Contracting Com-
pany from Ardmore was out looking for some hands . . .
Im not sure, but I hear that Sugarman, you know, Vctor Jara
. . . well, I heard that he was one of the subcontractors.
Jara? El pirul? Why, I wouldnt go across the street with that
guy, let alone the whole damn state . . .
Tag! Lets play . . .
Kids, we cant hear ourselves talk; why dont you all go play
across the way.
Tag, you guys. Come on! That hydrant there is Home Base,
Sonny, and youre it; remember, a hundred by twos, and slow it
down!
Now its Lollys and Thelmas turn to guess first the color and
then the number.
Hey, Joey, show us that shiner, come on, Joey. Be a sport.
Lets see . . . four, five and thats it, theres no more. Theres
three jacks missing, but its okay, we can use pebbles.
Boy, Delia, youre always changing the rules, thats not fair.
Ill fair you; jump in or out, now . . .
Where were you last night?
Mom wouldnt let me go out of the house last night, you
know how she is sometimes. Did you really wait for me?
I was here. Till one.
Were you, really? One? In the morning? And just for me?
Dont laugh.
Im not laughing, Jeh . . . come on, lets go to the park.
And what about your little brother?
Hes with that gang of kids over there.
Okay, here give me . . .
Jeh, theyll see us holding hands.
It doesnt matter; theyd say we were, anyway.
Did you really hang around till one?
And what exactly did that school nurse say, Doa Faustina?
Listen to this: she wants us to have the boys tonsils taken
out.
Oh? And why would she want you to do that?
Well, she says if we do this, then Andy wont catch as many
colds as he does.
Hmph! You know what it is? Its just more of that Anglo talk;
theyre forever saying things like that.
My turn, now! Im round, but Im thin, and cause I dont rot,
I cost a lot. What am I?
Thats the oldest one in the book; come on!
Next! Me! Me! At my fattest, I dont weigh much, and I dont
fatten on food and such.
Im the one that told you that in the first place, for crying out
loud . . .
Okay, okay . . . heres another; its a new one . . .
Well, I tell you this much, if you dont know the contractors,
and theyre talking Michigan and such, well . . .
Hes right, you know. You got to play it cagey with those
guys. Shoot, theres no tellin where or when theyre going to leave
you high and dry.
You said it.
Gods truth.
And no one elses.
Listen, dummy, you cant divide five by ten.
And why is that, Smarty-pants?
Cause ones bigger than the other . . . and thats why, Pos-
sumeyes.
Kids! Keep it down!
The time, Doa Faustina, its gotten away from us . . . Now,
where did Adela run off to? Andy! Whered your sis go, son?
Shes in the park, Ma.
Well, go get her now. Scoot! Doa Faustina, well see you
tomorrow.
God willing, Doa Barbarita.
And now, the people on this side of the tracks are going
indoors. Theres more to talk about, and therell be another tomor-
row, as usual.
The Valley 123
124
THE SQUIRES AT THE ROUND TABLE
Genaro, that boy looks familiar; who is he?
His names Rafe Buenrostro.
Buenrostro? Which Buenrostro family is that?
Is he Julins boy?
No, his father was Jess Buenrostro; the one called Don Jess.
Oh, I remember him; died young, didnt he?
Was he the one that worked Old Man Burns land?
No, youre confusing him with Julin again. Don Jess had
some lands over by El Carmen.
Over by where the Texas Rangers killed those ranch hands
back in 15?
Thats the place. Course the Rangers got theirs, too, later on.
Yeah, but that night, they were armed, and the Carmen hands
werent.
Gods truth . . . I remember now: Don Jess was called El
quieto.
El quieto . . . Are you sure about that?
Sure Im sure; boy, Leal, your minds going, you know that?
And the other kid?
The one that just left?
No, the other one; the one talking to young Buenrostro there.
Oh, I know him . . . thats Jeh Malacara.
He wouldnt be one of those Relmpago Malacaras now,
would he?
He sure would. That boy was orphaned early; lets see . . . his
dad was Roque Malacara, and he married Tere.
Tere? From the tent show? Really?
No, no, no. The tent show Tere was named Pelez, Don Cami-
los daughter, remember? This boys mother was old Jeh Vilches
daughter.
Of course . . . Don Braulio Tapias son-in-law.
Aha! Got it now.
Echevarra, did you know Don Braulio?
I sure did, and I knew old Don Juan Nepomuceno himself, the
one who raised him . . . I was a boy then, of course.
The Malacara boy worked with the Pelez family and that tent
show of theirs. Thats part of the confusion. Don Vctor Pelez
taught that boy everything he knows.
I bet Don Vctor didnt teach him all that Don Vctor knew.
Ill say; Don Vctor was a good friend, wasnt he?
Amen to that. Hey, were just about dry here. One more?
How many have we had?
Two, is it?
Dunno; you sure its not three?
Well! Look at who just came in. Don Manuel! Over here!
Don Manuel spots the older men, brings a chair with him and
waits for Rafe Buenrostro to bring him his nightly cup of coffee.
What are you all talking about?
The usual, you know. Not speaking for you, Don Manuel, but
were getting old.
Ha! Don Genaro, the four of us here can still go out in the
woods and live off the land.
You really think so?
I know so, Master Castaeda; I dont know of too many things
the four of us cant handle.
God hear you.
Amen.
Boy! Turn that music down a bityoure going to have the
neighbors complaining.
Yessir, Don Manuel.
Coffee over, Don Manuel turns to the group: Gotta go; Ill be
over at the corner of Third and Goliadyou all need a ride, just
come on over.
The viejitosthe old men, thank him, as always; and Don
Manuel Guzmn, native born Texas mexicano, looks out into the
night and cuts across Third, a side street in Klail City, a town much
like any other in Belken County down in the Valley.
The Valley 125
129
NOTA PRELIMINAR
Estas estampas son y estn como las greas de Mencho Salda-
a: unas cortas, otras largas y todas embadurnadas con esa grasa
humana que las junta y las separa sin permiso de nadie.
NOTA QUE SIRVA PARA DESPABILAR
La gente que aparece y desaparece en estas estampas, as como
los sucesos que en ellas surgen, bien pudieron ocurrir o no. El
escritor escribe y trata de hacer lo que puede; eso de explicar es
oficio de otra gente.
Uno cumple con escribir sin mostrar la oreja.
130
BRAULIO TAPIA
Chaparro, fornido y pisando fuerte a pesar de venir con el som-
brero en la mano, Roque Malacara me pone cara de vaqueta y dice
que no es por falta de respeto pero qu le vamos a hacer? no tiene
padrinos y por eso viene a pedirme a Tere l solo.
Me recuerda que ya hace ao y medio que tiene entrada en la
casa y que ahora viene a pedir mi consentimiento para casarse. Le
digo que s, chocamos la mano, y le hago pasar. En el umbral de la
puerta diviso a mi difunto suegro, don Braulio Tapia, con su bigo-
te lacio y patilla larga, saludndome a m como cuando yo vine a
esta casa a pedirle a Matilde. Para ese tiempo ya estaba viudo de
doa Sstenes como yo ahora lo estoy de Matilde. don Braulio me
dice que s, me choca la mano y me hace pasar a su casa.
A quin vera don Braulio en el umbral cuando el pidi a su
esposa?
131
TERE NORIEGA
Se me pegaron las almohadas; qu quiere? Estoy con media
hora de retraso . . . No es que me desvele tanto, no crea, pero una
se cansa de trabajar y, si de veras le busca, pues, una se cansa de
la misma vida.
No crea, habr otras que estn en peor situacin que una; pon-
gamos por caso a esas pobres mujeres que trabajan en las cantinas
donde todo mundo las manosea. Peor: las que se van de criadas. Si
es verdad que el peligro y el diablo no descansan, pues las que se
van de criadas tienen que vigilar al seor de la casa, al hijo del
seor y, a poco no! a la patrona misma si se descuida. S, las de
las cantinas y las criadas estn peor que una pero una tambin se
cansa. Si tuviera educacin y fuera letrada le explicaba de otra
manera pero una, ya ve, es como es y lo que sale, sale de corazn.
Una se cansa y ya, sabe?
132
ROQUE MALACARA
Mi Tere se cansa y con razn. Tenemos un hijo; amen del sue-
gro, hemos perdido tres mujercitas. Mi suegro era un hombre
cabal. Le gustaba la pesca y siempre procuraba que lo acompaa-
ra su tocayito Jeh. Si la gente vuelve a renacer, dira yo que mi
hijo y su abuelo son la misma persona.
133
HURFANO Y AL PAIRO
Conoc la muerte y su finalidad cuando no haba llegado yo a
los siete aos de edad. Ocurri una tarde de tantas cuando volva
de la escuela: las vecinas no me dejaron entrar en casa y me des-
pacharon a una banca que se encontraba cerca de la barbera de
Gelasio Chapa. All llor hasta que vinieron por m para que me
fuera a dormir. Por pap no pregunt hasta el da siguiente; me avi-
saron que llevaba dos das en la cantina de Cano y que sera mejor
si no fuera a verlo. As fue.
A mi mam la enterramos no muy lejos de San Pedro y la visi-
taba cada mes con pap hasta que l, tambin, se muri as, de
repente, sin aviso, mientras me contaba un chiste; un chiste que
ahora, veinticinco aos ms tarde, todava no me he podido acor-
dar de qu se trataba. Cuando l muri yo tena unos nueve aos y
toc la casualidad que el da del entierro lleg lo que nosotros lla-
mbamos las maromas.
Las maromas consistan de una carpa grande de donde se col-
gaba un trapecio, o donde estiraban alambres para que una mucha-
cha en traje de bao o algn seor que la haca de japons o de
borracho se fuera balanceando de una punta de la carpa a la otra.
Por lo comn haba cuatro o cinco msicos que tocaban detrs de
una cortinita que serva de mampara para las tablas donde un paya-
so o dos, o a veces, los mismos msicos, se presentaban para com-
placer al pblico. Cuando los msicos la hacan de payasos tambin
vendan cacahuates y dulces en cajitas de cartn, no muy llenas, de
caramelos verdes, blancos y colorados como el tri-color mexicano.
En otras ocasiones, otros seores, o quiz los mismos, porque
eso dependa del tamao de la carpa y del nmero de tripulantes,
hacan chistes de la gente que viva en el Relmpago o en el pueblo
que estuvieran y todo el pblico se cagaba de risa (con perdn).
La cosa es que as que sepultamos a pap, a m me dejaron solo
esa tarde y no teniendo ms que hacer fui a casa de la ta Chedes
para ver a mis primos. Cuando la intil de mi ta me vio, empez
a llorar y a hacer sus papeles. Por poco le doy la espalda y me
pongo a correr porque, la verdad, aunque sent mucho la muerte de
pap, siempre le consider como el hermano mayor que nunca
tuve. Su memoria, pues, me era muy otra a la que se imaginara mi
ta Chedes y se me haca que sus patatuses estaban dems.
Al rato se le quit el llorido y se qued con el hipo sempiterno;
como la pobre era tan bruta, luego me pregunt qu andaba hacien-
do por la vecindad. Por poco me echo a rer pero me detuve y le dije
que vena a jugar con los primos. En esto estbamos cuando de
repente, la ta Chedes se llev el dedo ndice a la boca, y coloc la
plancha en el hierro y se fue a la caja de hielo de donde me trajo un
vaso de agua fra. Meti el dedo cordial en el vaso, me hizo la seal
de la cruz en la frente y dijo: Bbetela de un jaln mientras rezo
un Padrenuestro al revs y hoy conocers a tu nuevo padre.
Me le qued viendo con tamaa boca abierta pero por s o por
no me empin el vaso mientras ella canturreaba: amn, mal todo
de lbranos y deudores . . .
135
MIS PRIMOS
Mi ta Chedes tuvo tres retoos de su seor esposo, Juan Brio-
nes. El primero que naci fue mi primo Blas.
A Blas lo bautizaron Blas Briones pero a los tres aos de edad
ya le llamaban Ronco y hoy da pocos de los que lo conocen
sabrn su nombre de pila. De lo de Briones ni rastro porque es
conocido que los sobrenombres, a veces, suelen barrer con todo:
nombre de pila, apellido y hasta con el carcter del agraciado.
Tambin hay veces que los sobrenombres no encajan del todo bien
y creo que esto se deba a que hay un poco de todo en el huerto del
Seor. Como ejemplo de esto ltimo les pongo a Antero de Len
a quien llamaban El Vivo. El cerrado de Antero era ms bruto que
hecho a encargo y lo poco que tena de vivo era el color que se
acercaba, de una manera alarmante, a un verde subido.
Ronco se hizo troquero y as que pudo puso al mundo en aviso:
El otro pedo que tire me lo van a or en Ohio.
Los otros dos eran Eduviges a la que llambamos Edu, que se
explica fcilmente, y Santos, al que llambamos Pepe, cosa ms
difcil de explicar. Despus, a Eduviges, en la escuela, la llamaron
Vicky; a Pepe, en la escuela tambin, le llamaron El Min, algo que
se explicaba al golpe. All en este ltimo caso, el sobrenombre y la
persona hallaron su perfecto aunque, a veces, penoso corolario.
A Min, despus de tantas faenas, el gobierno estatal le patro-
cin un viaje de ida a la pinta en Sugarland donde, con aplicacin
y esmero, se adiestr a fabricar placas de carro. Es esta una profe-
sin muy especializada pero poco rendidora, a lo menos para
Min, porque nunca logr ejercerla despus que termin su ense-
anza en Sugarland. Cuando Min volvi de la pinta, vino llenito
de tats y se convirti en un verdadero espectculo. En un colori-
do y entretenido espectculo.
Con eso de llamarse Min y ahora luciendo tanto tatuaje, la
gente se despist y no supo qu llamarle: si Min o Tat. Parece
que a la gente no le gusta que la despisten. Por fin, mi primo fue
el que puso pare a la discusin diciendo que prefera que le llama-
ran Min. La gente, generosamente, accedi al gusto de mi primo
y as Min volvi a ser Min.
La tercera, mi prima Vicky, tard en asentar cabeza con lo que
dio debida razn al dicho de que de tal palo tal astilla. Supongo
que en Vicky el proverbio ira de doble bolazo porque mi ta Che-
des era una perfecta gila galetera. Cuando Vicky le avis a mi ta
Chedes que dejaba la escuela para irse con una carpa de marome-
ros (que vena a Relmpago dos veces al ao), mi ta Chedes llor
que fue un encanto: se desmay, luego chill, patale, se pey,
grit y le dio el hipo; vamos, lo de siempre cuando se pona ner-
viosa. Al fin se conform; poniendo una cara seria, sent a Vicky
en frente de s, y cogindole de las manos, le pidi que se cuidara
de las malas compaas. En el segundo respiro, la ta tambin le
pidi pases gratis para la familia. Pasando el tiempo, Vicky cum-
pli este segundo petitorio fielmente, con lo que, en parte, demos-
tr lo obediente que era.
Del primer petitorio, Vicky misma, en tonos que mostraban su
doblez jesuita, explicaba que haba sido formulado en sentidos
demasiado generales para que ella acatara con rigor y al pie de la
letra. (A veces la Vicky haca respingar al ms listo con tanta 1gica
maquiavlica extrada de insospechadas venas de sabidura . . . )
Cuando a Juan Briones le avisaron que l y la ta Chedes se
quedaban solos, l tom la noticia con notable ejemplaridad estoi-
ca: orden otra cerveza y otra docena de ostiones.
Hay gente que no le tiene miedo a nada.
CONTRATIEMPOS DEL OFICIO
A ver, sostn el yaque as, de la manguera; pero con fuerza,
Jeh, ndale, as. Ya est. Ahora, agarra la palanca (ah, como est
chingando esta agita) y jlale pa arriba y pa abajo para que pueda
sacar esa llanta jija de su tuerta madre. S, no tiene ni qu, tena
que ser la llanta de adentro la del pinche flat.
Cuidado que no se resbale, don Vctor.
Gracias, hijo. No, no me resbalo pero de lo que no me pier-
do va a ser de un catarro bien padre. Mira, ponte guila y que no
se pierdan las tuercas. Estoy lo que se llama empapado.
Estamos como dijo el otro.
Cierto, Jeh, estamos. Y como dijo Cuauhtmoc, eh?
crees que yo estoy en un lecho de rosas?
Fue Moctezuma.
Bueno; yo ya me entiendo. ndale llanta puta! Sal!
Qu sal!
No, que le digo que salga.
S, lo s, pero qu sal la nuestra de encontrarnos a siete
millas de Edgerton.
Tambin es sal; tienes razn. Dale un poco ms al yaque,
hijo. Ten cuidado, Jeh, que no se te resbale y te medio mate la
mugre.
No tenga cuidado, don Vctor. Usted es el que debe estar al
alba.
Ah, ah, ah ahhhhhhhaa sal! . . . con una chingada . . . Ya est
. . . alcnzame la extra.
Le ayudo a acomodarla?
No, hijo. Mira, tente al yaque. Eso . . . (Y por qu no llue-
ve ms recio, Diosito?). Avisao, Jeh; ponte aguzao; psame la
esptula. Ya . . . El martillo. Ya . . . Ahora s, afljale al yaque poco
a poco. (Qu bendicin de agua y con norte para acabarla de
arruinar!).
137
Le sigo?
S, poco a poco y cudate que no se zafe y te quiebre la cani-
lla. Eso. Eso. Ya est.
Voy a ver aquel pedazo de lona que se desat.
Cuidado con el trfico que esta gente es ms bruta que man-
dada a hacer.
Don Vctor Pelez tena razn: el viento estaba ponindose
fresco, quiz demasiado fresco para octubre. Al otro lado del
camin marca Internacional estaba Jeh Malacara atando una
parte de la carpa de lona que se haba desatado. El chico cogi dos
puntas de lona y las apret hasta que los anillos de metal estaban
juntos, al instante los estir hasta unos ganchos que servan, a la
vez, como atadura y ancla de la carpa.
Los tenis, llenos de lodo, producan un cuaf-cuaf mientras Jeh
andaba alrededor del camin para asegurar que todo estaba listo.
No llevaba la cachucha porque de nada le servira; el pelo rizado
le daba un aire de angelito flaco con ojos inocentes y sagaces, leva-
dura propia de la niez.
Qu tal? Ya?
S, don Vctor.
Pues, trpate que ya es hora de que alcancemos a los dems.
Qu horas son?
No s; Sern las diez, t?
A lo mejor.
Qu te parece si en vez de colarnos ahorita nos paramos en
cualquier restorn y nos echamos un chorizo con huevos?
Con tortillas de harina?
Con tortillas de harina.
Con una soda colorada?
Con una soda colorada.
Chingao . . . esto s que es vivir.
El camin International carraspe dos o tres veces al arrancar-
se rumbo a Edgerton donde el hermano de don Vctor les estara
esperando y creyendo, tal vez, que Vctor se haba detenido para
echarse un trago.
Jeh Malacara, acomodndose lo mejor que pudo, descans la
cabeza sobre la ventana que reciba la lluvia y los reflejos de la luz
que los carros despedan al pasar. Se durmi sin darse cuenta.
140
APRENDIENDO EL OFICIO
Mira, Jeh, vale ms que agarres la cadena de por abajo, no
sea que se suelte y te saque un ojo con el chicotazo. . . Aj, ya ves
que fcil? Bueno, ahora me le jalas un tantito ms . . . ndale . . .
ves cmo se afloja por ella sola? Ahora, estrale de la punta as y
trata de encajarla en el poste muerto. Ya; ahora lo nico que tienes
que hacer es repetir la misma operacin con estos tres postes
medianos y cuando se llegue la hora, vers cmo se levanta una
carpa de maromas.
Don Vctor, cundo vuelven don Camilo y doa Chucha?
No han de tardar . . . eso de conseguir los permisos para el
convite y las funciones es cosa hecha, sabes. Camilo va con don
Manuel, el empleado, y le dice cunto tiempo vamos a estar, le
paga el permiso, le da unos pases para el show y ya. No tiene
magia la cosa. Qu? Ya acabaste? Bueno, ahora vmonos a la
casita de los tquetes para ver cmo va lo que te has memorizado.
Me llevo la bocina?
Dmela . . . este . . . por qu no das los anuncios sin boci-
na; as, de pulmn abierto?
Ust cree?
Hijo, si no se cala la sanda no se sabe cmo sabe.
Lo que usted diga . . . ah va, pues . . .
Con la ayuda de don Vctor Pelez, Jeh Malacara se mont en
un banquito azul celeste y empez a tortillear tal y como lo haca
don Camilo cuando ste empezaba los anuncios.
Tanto la perorata como la persona eran innecesarias ya que la
maroma consista de una sola carpa y la gente vendra con el nico
propsito de comprar boletos para la funcin y sanseacab . . .
pero, segn Santo Toms, la fuerza del hbito la convierte en cdi-
go riguroso y as es que sera impensable que no hubiese animador
estacionado en frente de la carpa.
Lo que se deca, francamente, tampoco era nada nuevo y su
mayor atraccin poda estribar en el gusto de la gente que, ya es
sabido, no sufre cambios sin previo aviso. Jeh Malacara se dio
cuenta de esto por s solo; con la ayuda de don Vctor se dio harta
cuenta de mucho ms, como se ver en su debido tiempo.
A ver, hijo, empieza ya . . .
Damas y caballeros! Seores y seoras! Estimada
concurrencia! Respetable pblico! Nios de todas edades! abran
paso! formen lnea! hagan cola! cuidado con los codos! djenme
hablar por favor que voy a empezar! La carpa Pelez! la carpa de
toda la familia! La carpa Pelez, la nica, la de ms prestigio, la de
su predileccin, se complace en presentarles una funcin
inolvidable! Una funcin de sana y divertida comedia! no se
permiten chistes groseros, hgame el favor! una funcin de tres
horas y media de diversin! oiga usted! tres horas y media! qu
me dicen damas y caballeros! tres horas y media de regocijo, de
cumplida alegra, de msica, de maromas y de balanceo de
alambre! Vea las gracias de la divina Tere Pelez en el trapecio de
cuarenta pies! veinte metros o ms querido pblico! ver es creer!
no empujen que hay asientos para toda la familia! Asmbrese
usted! Vengan, vengan y vean y gocen y muranse de risa con don
Chema! don Chon! y don Ciriaco! con doa Lolita! don Cuco! y
doa Cuca y Black Espot! su perrito amaestrado, importado desde
la capital! El perrito ms educado en todo el mundo y en los
visibles planetas del universo! oiga usted! No se pierdan la
funcin de esta noche, imponente pblico de Klail City! Pblico
conocedor y discriminador de esta bella ciudad del Valle! Entren,
pasen, vean, gocen, divirtanse aqu con la honesta carpa Pelez!
su carpa predilecta, seores y seoras! Un servidor les garantiza
tres horas y media de risa y diversin para toda la sagrada familia!
Compren sus boletos en la taquilla donde la divina Tere les
complacer atentamente! Pase, gentil pblico, pase y vaya pasando
que se acaban los boletos! . . . Oigan la msica, damas y
caballeros, novios y novias del lugar! disfruten de ella en sus
asientos recin pintados y enumerados por un servidor en su propia
mano! No se les olvide, djenme repetir, no se les olvide! tenemos
dulces americanos y nacionales! Caramelos! Cacahuates!
tenemos esquite con mantequilla de tres colores en bolsas grandes
y en cajas gigantes! no se pierda la aventura! Hay golosinas para
todos los gustos! Tenemos charamuscas! tenemos calabazates con
almendra! dulces de leche quemada! sodas y leche malteada en
cajita de cartn con su propio popote particular para su higiene
personal, caro pblico! dulces de biznaga, piruls con premios
dentro! aqu se vende todo! No se esperen! no malgaste su
tiempo! psele, por aqu, distinguida concurrencia!
Ya, prale con eso. Esta noche te trepas aqu en la platafor-
ma y das dos o tres saltos mortales mientras Camilo hace la pero-
rata. Tienes talento, chico, y no hay que desperdiciarlo.
Ust cree?
No lo dudes. Ahora vamos con lo de la carpa otra vez y
luego a buscarnos unas botellas vacas para la marimba de Leoca-
dio.
Las botellas vacas se lavaban y luego se les llenaba de agua a
un determinado nivel para conseguir de ellas la nota musical ade-
cuada. Leocadio Tovar (en las tablas don Chon) soplaba la trom-
peta y el trombn, y tocaba la marimba de botellas con ms ganas
que talento. A veces donde falta una cosa hay que suplirle con otra.
Ni modo.
143
OTRA VEZ LA MUERTE
Haba pasado tres aos como un da con la Carpa Pelez bajo
el ojo paternal de don Vctor. Hombre derecho y recto en su trato
y comportamiento, don Vctor, en su aspecto, era alto y flaco aun-
que gran bebedor de cerveza y, por no despreciar, de lo que la suer-
te le departiera. Por l me ensen a leer empezando con anuncios
de medicinas de patente y de hierbas medicinales; ms tarde con
peridicos y revistas, hasta llegar a libros de toda especie; en fin,
de lo que fuera y como saliera.
Si mis trotes por las calles de Relmpago me haban despabi-
lado, la enseanza formal, en muy gran parte, pues, se la deba a
ese seor. Veterano de la Revolucin, don Victor, en un tiempo,
tambin vendi y compr caballos en compaa con su compadre,
don Aurelio Alemn, otro coahuilense. Uno de los tratos fue con
las fuerzas de don Jess Carranza, hermano de don Venustiano.
All en 1920 estuvo don Vctor como teniente coronel en la
zona militar de Papantla, Veracruz. La estancia en las Huastecas
potosinas y veracruzanas duro poco ms de ao; parte de mi lectu-
ra provino de unos apuntes que l haba hecho durante ese tiempo.
All aprend que don Vctor se haba casado con La Samaniego,
hija ella de una de esas viejas familias judas mexicanas. Ms
tarde, por don Camilo, supe que ella y su hijito, Sal, y otro, por
nacer, murieron a causa de la influenza espaola que arrambl con
familias, pueblos y municipios enteros por los aos 19, 20 y 21.
Algo parecido a lo que haba hecho la viruela unos aos antes.
Lo que sigue, pues, forma parte de los escritos de don Vctor.
Dir que tengo que aceptar la responsabilidad en el ordenamiento
as como en las enmendaciones ortogrficas ya que no del conte-
nido, como debe ser.
La parte que aqu incluyo consiste en apuntes hechos en la
zona militar de Papantla, Veracruz, y en el Distrito Federal.
c c c
Papantla, Ver., 23 mayo 20
Han asesinado a nuestro paisano, don Venustiano Carranza.
Por ahora no se sabe quin lo mand matar pero como la cosa
sucedi en esta zona militar pronto se sabr. Mi compadre A. ha
logrado conseguir 270 caballos; piensa vendrselos a Mirillas. A
m me toca buena parte de ese asunto. Veremos.
Por rdenes del jefe de esta zona militar, el gral. Lzaro Crde-
nas, han prendido al gral. Rodolfo Herrero como el presunto asesi-
no de don Venus. Hace rato que me mand llamar mi gral. Manuel
vila Camacho dndome as las rdenes para la disposicin del reo
Herrero. Ahora que M.A.C. ha ascendido a jefe del estado mayor,
la zona militar de las Huastecas puede elegir: o se endereza o a ver
dnde se mete. Hoy mand al Indio Vela a que recogiera mis cosas
y as estar listo para cuando tenga que salir para la capital.
. . . nada o poco, que es lo mismo cuando uno est de esperas.
Maana salgo rumbo a Jalapa para recoger a ocho mochos que
me acompaaran como escolta particular a Mxico. Con que sepan
su trabajo me conformo. Esta noche me dijo Pepe Figueroa que a don
Venus lo mataron a traicin. Francamente yo no entiendo por qu se
le considera listo a ese abogadillo. Pues, claro, que fue a traicin; no
me digan que los de Herrero pidieron permiso a la escolta y a Carran-
za antes de despacharlo. Hay gente en este mundo que . . . Lo de los
caballos se est arreglando; ayer mismo se consiguieron treinta y
siete ms y con eso hace 307, segn cuentas.
Jalapa, Ver., 2 junio 20
Vine por ocho y encuentro cinco: dos con licencia de 20 das y
el tercero est en el hospital militar. Resulta poco heroica la enfer-
medad: unas almorranas a causa de comer tunas de nopal.
Papantla, Ver., 4 junio 20
Los cinco que me traje de Jalapa: Evaristo Garrido H., de
Tepoztln, Mor.; Santos Leal Cant, Cadereyta Jimnez, N.L.;
Armando Snchez Villagmez, Jalostotitln, Jal.; Jess Balderas,
Atenguillo, Jal.; y Juan de Dios Regelta, Soliseo, Tamps. Gente
decidida.
Con los once de aqu y estos cinco tendr lo suficiente para tras-
ladar a Herrero a Mxico. Esta maana el Indio Vela me dijo que
Herrero estuvo inmiscuido con Guajardo en el asesinato de Zapata
el ao pasado. Puede ser. El gral. Crdenas tambin va a Mxico;
comisin delicada. Hay que madrugar; el tren sale a las tres.
Mxico, D.F., 10 junio 20
Esta noche no acompao a Flix Cceres. Otra parranda como
la del lunes y por poco me quedo tieso. Esta cruda no me la quita
ni el Papa. A m que me den aguardiente de Coahuila o, no habien-
do ms, el tequila de Jalisco. Lo que es el whiskey americano,
nones. Es algo dulzn y luego le cae a uno una cruda como una
casa.
As que acabe con el asunto de Herrero ir a ver a mi mujer y
a mi Sal en Arteaga y si no, pues, para qu sirve ser uno
teniente coronel si no puede largarse de vez en cuando? Veremos.
Diez das llevamos aqu; mal negocio. Telegrama de mi com-
padre A., dicindome que el asunto caballerizo en rieles, sin com-
plicaciones. Menos mal. Creo que con mi parte voy a comprar
aquel terreno cerca de Bella Unin. Tengo 33 aos, llevo casi ocho
aos en la joda y amn de las tres balas que llevo en las piernas,
este ser el primer jugo que le exprimo a la Bola.
El proceso judicial de Herrero se dio por terminado. Nada. El
juez no pudo verificar nada entre lo que dijeron Herrero y Mur-
gua. Me parece raro que don Venus se haya suicidado como dice
Herrero; cuatro balazos. Es mucho ese suicidio.
Telegrama de mi gral. M.A.C. 15 DIAS LICENCIA STOP
VOLVER PAPANTLA 9 JULIO STOP SALUDOS STOP JEFE
DEL ESTADO MAYOR, MANUEL AVILA CAMACHO,
PAPANTLA, VERACRUZ.
Papantla, Ver., 11 julio 20
Cay carta de La donde me cuenta que el sacerdote insiste en
bautizar a Saulito en la iglesia del pueblo. Tendr que esperarse
hasta que llegue yo definitivamente. Yo ni saba que todava queda-
ba iglesia en Arteaga; si mal no recuerdo, los Dvila la quemaron
el 13 cuando el supuesto cuartelazo en Saltillo. A uno de esos ban-
didos lo vi en Culiacn con tamaa lengua de fuera all donde lo
colg el tuerto Melguizo. El Tuerto Marco Antonio Melguizo . . .
Una noche dijo Lucio Blanco que Melguizo vino al mundo a des-
tiempo, antes de que Dios acabara de completarlo: le falta un ojo,
tres dedos de una mano y dos de la otra, es cojo de la pierna izquier-
da y, cuando se precipita, tartamudea. Lo que tiene Melguizo es un
par de huevos como martillos de campana y una lealtad a Lucio
Blanco que no deja duda de su hombra. Desde cundo que no veo
a esa gente de mi Norte querido?
Mxico, D.F., 14 julio 20
En la capital de nuevo. Antes de salir de la Huasteca me dijo
mi gral. vila Camacho que me mandaban al estado mayor de
Obregn y que de m dependa lo que hiciera de all en adelante.
Las cartas de recomendacin del gral. Crdenas fueron escritas en
su propia mano. Yo no creo que tenga aptitud para el estado mayor
pero uno va a donde lo mandan.
El hotelito es modesto y limpio.
Me junt con gente del Norte; los ms de ellos son de Sonora y
Nuevo Len y los menos de Tamaulipas. Nosotros, los coahuilen-
ses, parecemos gente extraa, ms bien, aparte. Todos congeniamos
y uno de Monterrey, Elizondo Carvajal, result ser primo hermano
de mi compadre Aurelio. Los tres abogados que comieron con
nosotros son norteos tambin; por lo visto tendran unos doce o
catorce aos cuando empez lo de Daz y Madero. Ahora esa gente
es ms revolucionaria que la palabra.
Grau me mostr la ropa que llevaban don Pancho Madero y
Pino Surez la noche que los mataron. Qu ocurrencias . . . Segn
Grau encontraron la ropa en los stanos de la penitenciaria. A Pino
Surez le dieron cinco balazos por la espalda, todos en el lado
izquierdo. El grupo de los cinco tiros es bastante reducido; se
conoce que los mataron a quemarropa.
Los Huertistas, en su vida, supieron hacer algo bien hecho.
La no puede venirse a la capital. Dar luz al entrar el ao y
luego Dios dir. Mi suegro me mand un reloj suizo con su leon-
tina de oro. Esta noche los voy a estrenar . . . hace rato vino el
Indio Vela para levantarme y se sorprendi al verme escribiendo y
listo para salir. Debo estar en la Ciudadela antes de las ocho; lo de
Villa quiz no se resuelva ya. Habr guerra y tiroteo de nuevo.
Todava no puedo entender cmo aguanta tanto el mexicano.
Coincidencia: de repente me acord de Zapata y en menos de
media hora recib noticias que en Monterrey acababan de fusilar a
Guajardo. Pendejearon. Lo deban haber colgado.
c c c
Segn don Camilo, como ya se dijo, su hermano perdi su
familia a consecuencias de la influenza espaola. Pasando unos
pocos meses, renunci la carrera militar recibiendo una pensin
ms bien modesta y se regres a Arteaga de donde no sali por
cinco aos. Cuando decidi dejar el exilio impuesto por s mismo
se vino a los Estados Unidos. Lleg, como lo haban hecho tantos
antes y, luego, muchos ms despus, al Valle del Ro Bravo.
Don Camilo deca que los aos no haban pasado por don
Vctor. Cuando me recogi en Relmpago ya llevaba ocho o nueve
aos rodando por los pueblitos del Valle en la carpa de su hermano.
Tres aos como un da.
A don Vctor Pelez le toc morir en Flora. Despus de tantas
peripecias, las reumas y unas complicaciones renales lograron
matarlo.
Los de la Carpa Habanita y los de la Furriel Hnos. (la de
Vicky), asistieron todos. Esta vez s llor, como cuando muri
mam. El da siguiente la Carpa Pelez hizo los preparativos para
irse rumbo a Ruffing y yo decid quedarme en Flora; otra vez la
muerte, otra vez hurfano y nuevamente al pairo.
149
FLORA
(y no le busque tres pies al micho) se llama as porque Rufus T.
Klail egregio fundador de Klail City, tena una hija con ese nom-
bre. La gente bien pensada dice que la ciudad tiene el aspecto de
la seorita (que no logr casarse): seca, desabrida, llena de malas
intenciones y con cara de pocos amigos. Flora est en el condado
de Belken y all, hace muchos aos, un tren mat a unas veinte per-
sonas que iban en un troque a la yerba. Uno de los sobrevivientes
fue Beto Castaeda, muchacho de Klail City que, mucho ms
tarde, fue yerno del difunto Albino Cordero.
Este relato no es de Beto sino del pueblo de Flora y de lo que
all ocurri cuando el entierro de Bruno Cano.
Esta gente de Flora es muy alborotadora: tienen concursos de
belleza, una cmara de comercio mexicana, organizan bailes al
aire libre, juegan al bingo en la iglesia y andan siempre con esto y
aquello. No vaya ms all; es gente mitotera.
150
AI POZO CON BRUNO CANO
Cmo que no lo sepulta?
Ya me oyeron.
S, le omos, pero usted tiene que sepultarlo. Si no hay ms.
All l; yo no lo sepulto. Que lo sepulte otro. . . Ustedes. La
iglesia no lo sepultar.
La iglesia o usted, don Pedro?
Yo; la iglesia; lo mismo da.
Qu lo mismo ni qu nada: Es usted, qu no?
S, yo; pero no me vengan a decir que no tengo razn . . . Miren
que echarme de la madre.
S, don Pedro, pero si alguien puede perdonar debera ser
usted. El cura.
S, s, el cura. Pero tambin soy hombre.
Y quin lo duda? ndele, sepltelo y luego nos echamos un
trago.
No s.
ndele. Anmese, don Pedro. Si usted y don Bruno fueron bue-
nos amigos. Adems, la cosa fue de borrachera . . .
No s.
Qu le cuesta? Aqu, Lisandro y yo lo llevamos al cemente-
rio, verdad? Qu tal? Hace? Diga que s, don Pedro.
Mire, don Pedro, ni a la iglesia lo traemos. De que Salinas lo
llevamos derechito al camposanto y all usted nos lo entierra con
sus rezos y todo.
Pero de seguro que no lo traen a la iglesia?
Descuide.
Palabra.
Bueno, se lo llevan de que Salinas y dentro de cuarto de hora voy
al cementerio. Han visto a Jeh? Lo necesito para el responso.
Ese debe andar por ah tirando piedras a los pjaros o hacien-
do un mandado. Djelo, don Pedro, yo lo hallo.
Ya saben, ni una palabra. Dentro de un cuarto de hora y al pozo
. . . mira, que echarle de la madre a todo un sacerdote de la santa
madre iglesia.
Agradecidos, don Pedro. No se preocupe y gracias, eh? Los
dos hombres se volvieron al centro del pueblo sin cruzar una pala-
bra entre s ni con la gente que les saludaba. Llegaron a la cantina
de Germn Salinas y anunciaron: Ya se hizo. Hay entierro. Llamen
a los Vega; que traigan la carroza ms grande. Culenle; avsenle a
todo mundo.
Don Bruno Cano, nativo de Cerralvo, Nuevo Len, y vecino de
Flora, Texas, de estado civil viudo y sin progenie ni sucesin,
muri, segn el mdico, de un ataque al corazn. De un infarto que
lo rindi tan lacio como ttere de cuerda. Los que verdaderamente
lo conocan decan que muri de envidia y por andar choteando al
prjimo.
La noche que muri Cano, l y otro compaero, Melitn Bur-
nias, haban acordado a escarbar un lotecito que le perteneca a
doa Panchita Zurez, sobandera, partera al pasito y remendona
fina de jovencitas no muy usadas y todava en servible estado de
merecer. La ta Panchita, segn la gente de Flora, tena un tesoro
escondido en su patio. Esta relacin, el nombre dado a los tesoros,
estaba escondida desde los tiempos de Escandn, segn unos;
desde los tiempos del general Santa Ana, segn otros; y todava
otros, ms cercanos, desde el tiempo de la Revolucin . . . tesoro
que fue ocultado por unos ansiosos comerciantes recin emigra-
dos, etc. La cosa es que Bruno Cano y Burnias, entre copa y copa,
acordaron en cavar la tierra, como tantos otros, en busca del teso-
ro mentado. Melitn Burnias juraba que tena unos rezos infalibles
para esos asuntos.
Es difcil imaginar dos hombres tan dispares: Cano, gordito,
color de rosa, tacao certificado, comerciante y dueo del matade-
ro de reces, La Barca de Oro; en fin, una de las primeras luces
del pueblo. Burnias, no; Burnias era algo sordo, flaco, chaparrito,
de oficio desconocido y ms seco que cagarruta de cabra en agos-
to. Tambin era pobre y de mala suerte. Cuando Tila, la mayor, se
larg con Prxedis Cervera, ste volvi con Tila y, juntos, pusieron
a Burnias de patitas en la calle. El hombre, dicen, encogi los
hombros y se fue a dormir al campo de sandas. Esa misma noche,
claro, hubo granizo. Melitn Burnias, sin embargo, no era codi-
cioso y sera por eso, tal vez, que Bruno Cano lo escogi como
socio en la bsqueda de la relacin.
Estaban los dos tomando en que Salinas cuando les sorprendi
las once de la noche. Al sonar el reloj cuco los dos se fueron a reco-
ger los talaches, palas y otra herramienta para cavar el lotecito de
doa Panchita.
Seran, acaso, como las tres de la maana y estaban Bruno
Cano, dentro del pozo echando tierra arriba, y el sordo de Burnias
afuera, desparramndola lo mejor que poda, cuando se oy un
tonc! Bruno escarb ms y otra vez tonc! luego otro, y otro ms.
Melitn, Melitn, no oste? Creo que vamos cerca.
Qu si no o? Qu si no o qu?
Te digo que vamos cerca.
Ah, s, pues entonces, qu rezo yo?
Qu?
Que qu rezo yo?
Cmo que qu resoll?
Qu resoll algo?
Qu resoll algo dices?
Qu resoll? Ay, Diosito mo!
Diciendo esto, Burnias vol; abandon la pala y a su socio;
empez a gritar, convencido, tal vez, que un fantasma que resolla-
ba vena por l. Corri por patios llevndose cercas, resbalando en
charcos, atravesando callejones, despertando perros y dando saltos
como coneja clueca hasta llegar rendido al campo de sanda donde
se ech a rezar en voz alta.
Bruno Cano, entretanto, se haba quedado con el aire en la
boca. (Qu resoll?) (Un fantasma?) As que pudo se puso a gri-
tar y a llorar: Squenme! Squenme de aqu! Que me matan!
Squenmeeeeeeeeee! Con una chingada! Ay, yay yay, Diosito
santo! Que me saquen! Aydenme! Con una chingada! Ay yay
yay, Diosito mo! Squenme!
En esto, y ya iban para las cinco, don Pedro Zamudio, cura de
Flora, iba cruzando el solar de doa Panchita rumbo a la iglesia
cuando oy los alaridos de Bruno. Levantando la sotana para que
no se le estropeara tanto, se dirigi al pozo y as, en la oscuridad,
le pregunt al que estaba en el pozo:
Qu pasa? Qu hace usted all?
Es usted don Pedro? Soy yo, Cano. Squeme.
Pues qu anda haciendo Ud. por esta vecindad?
Squeme primero. Ms al luego le cuento.
Se golpe cuando se cay?
No me ca . . . aydeme.
S, hijo, s; pero entonces cmo vino a dar all? Seguro que
no est lastimado?
Segursimo, seor cura, pero squeme ya con una . . . perdn.
Qu ibas a decir, hijo?
Nada, padrecito, nada; squeme.
No creo que pueda yo slo; ests algo gordo.
Gordo? Gorda su madre!
Mi qu?
Squeme ya con una chingada. ndele!
Pues que lo saque su madre!
Chingue la suya!
Don Pedro se persign, se hinc cerca del pozo y se puso a orar
aquello de . . . recoge a este pecador en tu seno cuando Bruno
Cano le ment de la madre otra vez. Tan clarita fue la mentada que
hasta los pjaros dejaron de trinar. Don Pedro, a su vez, sac el
rosario y empez con la misa de los muertos; esto puso a Cano
color de hormiga y estall con otro chingue a su madre tan redon-
do y tan sentido como el primero. Estaba para soltar otro cuando
don Pedro se levant extendiendo los brazos en cruz e intonando
lo de tomad a este pecador en tu regazo. Entonces Bruno Cano
dej de hablar y slo se oan unos soplidos como fuelles. Se acab
el rezo y don Pedro asom la cabeza al pozo y pregunt: No
ve? Con los rezos se allega a la paz. Ya va amaneciendo. Dentro de
poco vendrn por usted.
Bruno no le puso cuidado. Ni lo oy siquiera. Bruno Cano
haba echado el bofe entre uno de los misterios del rosario y una
de las madres. Entregando, as, su alma al Seor, al Diablo o a su
madre; a escoger.
Como es de suponer, no menos de treinta personas haban
observado la escena. Habanse quedado a una respetable distancia
mientras uno rezaba y el otro maldeca.
Pero, como quiera que sea, lo sepultaron y en campo sagrado.
Para el pesar de don Pedro Zamudio, el entierro estuvo muy con-
currido. La cosa dur cerca de siete horas. Hubo doce oradores,
cuatro coros, (uno de varoncitos y uno de chicas, otro de mujeres
de la Vela Perpetua y el cuarto de hombres del Sagrado Corazn de
Jess; todos de blanco). Los Vega trajeron el cuerpo de Bruno en
la carroza morada con la cortinita gris a fleco. Adems de don
Pedro, fuimos los doce monaguillos cada uno vestido en casulla
negra y blanca bien almidonada. La gente de los otros pueblos del
Valle pronto se dio cuenta que algo haba en Flora y se dej venir
en troque, en rides, en bicicleta y unos de Klail hasta alquilaron un
Greyhound que ya vena repleto de gente procedente de Bascom.
Aparecieron tres dulceros y empezaron a vender raspas para
combatir aquel sol que derreta las calles de chapapote. La concu-
rrencia, y yndose por lo bajo, no era menos de cuatro mil almas.
Unos, de seguro, ni saban a quin enterraban; los ms ni conocie-
ron a Cano; lo que pasa es que a la gente le gusta la bulla y no pier-
de ripio para salir de casa.
Don Pedro tuvo que aguantarse y rez no menos de trescientos
Padrenuestros entre Aves y Salves. Cuando se puso a llorar (de
coraje, de histeria, de hambre, vaya usted a saber) la gente, com-
padecida, rez por don Pedro. Los oradores repitieron las elegas
varias veces y los de la raspa, cada uno, tuvieron que comprar otras
tres barras de hielo de cien libras para dar abasto a toda la gente.
En casos ni sirope echaban ya. La gente se coma el hielo con o sin
agua. De su parte, los coros pronto disiparon su repertorio; para no
desperdiciar la oportunidad, se echaron el Tantum Ergo que no
vena al caso y, menos, el Ven, Buen Pastor, Redentor Celestial
que se oa slo en Pascuas. Por fin los cuatro coros se juntaron y
entonces la cosa se puso ms fina.
A pesar del calorn, el polvo, el empujar y la multitud agolpa-
da y remolinndose, no hubo mayor desorden: un pleito que otro,
s, pero sin navajas. Lo que s se cont fueron los que cayeron:
hubo no menos de treinta y cuatro desmayados y fue, en fin, un
entierro como Dios manda.
El que no asisti fue Melitn Burnias. Como deca despus,
Ese da yo andaba ocupadsimo.
La gente casi ni le pona atencin.
156
DON JAVIER
Trece aos de tener a Gela de querida y ahora me sale que ella
y su hermana se van, que piensan abrir una tienda y vender ropa a
la gente de los ranchos. As que vuelva Jeh con la contestacin le
doy otra carta y a ver qu pasa.
Pinche suerte; no poder ir a verla porque hoy se le ocurre a
Angelita celebrar nuestras bodas de plata. Qu ocurrencias! Esto
le pasa a uno por ser blando de corazn.
(La Gela es un fierro; una res de calidad; una fiera en la cama;
un cuero como pocos; una de las pocas que quedan.)
No tiene ni qu; la culpa de todo la tiene la hermana, vieja
flaca, tsica y espantapjaros.
Dnde chingaos se habr metido ese cabrn de Jeh?
157
EMILIO TAMEZ
A Emilio Tamez le falta la oreja derecha. No naci as, se la
cort el menor de los Murillo en la cantina de don Florentino.
Como una rebanada de pan?
As; igualito.
Emilio Tamez cojea, resultado de un accidente cuando tendra
unos once aos. El Emilio andaba saltando de vagn en vagn
cuando se resbal en un pedazo de brculi y zas! al suelo, cabrn.
A pesar de las sobadas y el aceite volcnico, la pierna izquierda le
qued ms corta que la otra.
Ahora, para compensar, cojea de la pierna izquierda y no oye
por el odo derecho. Emilio sabe leer y escribir en ingls y espa-
ol; con todo eso, no se le quita lo pendejo.
Hazte un lado, chueco, jijo-de-la-chingada!
158
LA TA PANCHITA
Dnde est el enfermo?
Aqu, ta Panchita; psele.
Oh, pos si es Rafa . . . qu te pasa, criatura?
No sabemos; ayer empez a tartamudear y ahora ah esta tite-
reteando con calentura.
Bueno; corran las Cortinas, slganse todos y cierren la puerta
que voy a empezar.
La ta Panchita extrajo un huevo pardo de la bolsa de provisin
y lo cruz por la cara de Rafa Buenrostro. Despus hizo otra seal
de la cruz cubriendo el cuerpo entero del enfermo y empez su rezo:
Oracin y ensalmo para susto: Criatura de Dios, yo te curo y te
ensalmo en el nombre de Dios y el Espritu Santo. Tres personas
distintas y un slo Dios verdadero. San Roque, San Sebastin, once
mil vrgenes por tu Glorsima Pasin y Ascensin dgnense a curar
a esta afligida criatura de ojo, espanto, calentura o cualquier otra
curacin no refiriendo a tan linda persona que se refiere a su
sacrosanto misterio. Jess criatura de Dios acurdate de tu Dios.
Cunto amante est Jess, cunto amante est Jess, as sea. Amn.
Ofrecimiento. Jess sea tu doctor, Mara Santsima tu doctora
y que esta enfermedad sea aventada por el amor de Dios, por el
amor de Dios, amn.
c c c
La ta Panchita repiti la oracin, el ensalmo y el ofrecimiento
dos veces ms y entonces estrell el huevo en un plato verde que
coloc debajo de la cama. Rafa Buenrostro respiro hondamente y
empez un sueo que durara da y medio.
La ta Panchita se despidi apresuradamente diciendo que vol-
vera el mircoles. Mujer ocupadsima, la ta se diriga al bautizo
del nio de Lino Carrizales.
159
EPIGMENIO SALAZAR
Este tiene una casa con cuartos para alquilar y es el propieta-
rio de una hernia que le ha permitido estar de huevn desde antes
de la guerra mundial nmero dos.
Epigmenio ve muchas cosas y lo que no ve lo suple con su
imaginacin. As, como dice, nunca est en servicio inactivo. Por
ejemplo, l sabe lo que hay entre don Javier y la Gela; conoce de
buena tinta lo que hay entre el cocinero de El Fnix y la chica de
la farmacia; sabe, por vas fidedignas, lo que le pasa a la esposa del
menor de los Murillo.
Lo que ignora Epigmenio es por qu se enganch esa hernia
como una casa.
160
LA GERA FIRA
Sin rodeos: la gera Fira es puta. No la hace de puta (como las
criadas) ni putea (como las amas de las criadas); no. La gera Fira
es puta y ya. Hay ms. La gera Fira tiene los ojos azules, el pelo
corto y no tiene que pintrselo y tiene unas formas que le quitaran
el hipo al cura don Pedro Zamudio.
La gera Fira no es de aqu, que es de Jonesville-on-the-River.
Hija de mujer mexicana de Jonesville y de un soldado bolillo de
Fort Jones: no fue la primera que saliera ni la ltima, pero, la ver-
dad, seguramente tiene que ser la mujer ms hermosa del Valle. (El
que s sabe mucho ms de la gente de Jonesville-on-the-River es
don Amrico Paredes.)
La gera Fira es una mujer seria que lleva su putera como las
chicas de la escuela llevan los libros: con naturalidad. Al baarse,
huele a agua y jabn y cuando sale a la calle rumbo a su trabajo,
todava le quedan hmedos los ricitos en la sien.
Trabaja en la cantina de Flix Champin, un hijo ilegtimo de
mi to Andrs, y no baila ni anda de mesa en mesa ni coquetea ni
hace papeles. Don Quixote contaba que eso de ser alcahuete era
cosa seria; puede ser, pero el oficio de puta en cantina pobre de
pueblo ruin tampoco es para morirse de risa.
Las mujeres de Klail saben quin es y qu es y ya. Si murmu-
ran, all ellas pero las ms no, las ms no murmuran. Las mujeres
suelen ser comprensivas cuando les da la gana.
Lo malo es que la gera Fira no durar mucho en Klail: es
demasiado pequeo y, la verdad, el dinero escasea.
161
ARTURO LEYVA
Cuando Arturo se cas con Yolanda Salazar, hija de don Epig-
menio (el que no trabaja), ya chambeaba con los Torres, los de la
tienda de ladrillo. Arturo es tenedor de libros y para engraciarse
con su suegro le lleva los libros gratis y, no pendejo, procura orde-
ar parte de la renta para que don Epigmenio tenga dinero que gas-
tar de vez en cuando. Todo esto, se entiende, sin que lo sepa doa
Candelaria Mungua de Salazar, esposa y cruz particular del Caba-
llero de la Hernia.
A Candelaria le duran las criadas algo as como la viruela loca,
cosa de dos semanas. Una vez contrat a Tere Malacara, q.e.p.d.,
pero Tere slo dur dos das: uno con don Epigmenio y el segun-
do con Arturo. La Tere era pobre, maltrechita pero honrada; cosas
todas que, a veces, acuerdan en una persona.
Estara de ms decir que Tere mand a los Salazar con viento
nuevo.
162
DON MANUEL GUZMN
Ex lechero, ex dueo de tres sastreras, ex socio de una pana-
dera y ex polica del barrio mexicano de Klail City. Esa fue una
vida de don Manuel.
Aqu va otra. Pen, domador de caballos, ex revolucionario,
sigui esa huella tan conocida: Villa, Obregn, decepcin.
Nacido en Campacus, condado de Hidalgo, estado de Texas,
jugaba al monte de tres barajas y con albur. Saba marcar cartas y
lo haca usando un alfiler o una aguja con color rojo tenue que slo
l poda ver.
Cmo lleg a ser polica en el barrio mexicano de Klail no
podr decirles.
En otras vidas trabaj en el arroz, fue jornalero en el ferroca-
rril y una temporada estuvo de pastor en Wyoming. Hombre
andariego, don Manuel se cas con una mujer fuerte y comprensi-
va que conoci bastante bien a su hombre para no molestarlo con
esas menudencias que la iglesia y la sociedad (esas hermanas chis-
mosas) imponen para hacerle la vida pesada al prjimo.
Don Manuel no tomaba ni fumaba pero era muy maldiciento,
corajudo, mal sufrido y corto de paciencia. Gran contador de cuen-
tos que no de chistes, nunca o que se la recargara. Si llegaba a can-
sar a la gente sera cuando se pona a alabar a sus cinco hijos. No
contando el menor, vio a todos casarse y hasta lleg a conocer a
varios de sus nietos.
Como ocurre a veces con esa gente que vive varias vidas y
entre ellas unas agitadas, don Manuel vino a morirse de un derra-
me cerebral cuando hablaba con su mujer mientras ella le quitaba
los botines.
163
EL MAISTRO
A Lucas Barrn, el dueo de la cantina Aqu Me Quedo, le
dicen el Chorreao.
Porque nunca se baa?
Exacto.
El Chorreao tiene muchos clientes y, entre ellos, uno muy
especial: El Maistro, don Genaro Castaeda. El Maistro es pintor
de casas y una vez, hace muchos aos, el gobierno lo llam a las
armas: que prestara sus servicios para la defensa de la nacin con-
tra sus enemigos y en pro de la libertad, etc., etc.
Era la primera guerra mundial y al Maistro se lo llevaron. Pri-
mero a San Antonio para el examen fsico (donde te meten el dedo
cordial en el culo para ver si tienes almorranas), luego a otro cam-
pamento militar que nunca logr averiguar dnde estaba. Al fin lle-
garon al puerto de New York, dira yo, y a cruzar esos mares hasta
Francia donde se guerreaba entonces.
Segn El Maistro no la pas tan mal. Hablaba un poco de
ingls, coma lo que haba y le pagaban casi cada mes aunque no
saba dnde gastarlo. Recuerda que una vez, estando en la trinche-
ra, le peg un pedazo de metal del tamao de posta, as como las
bi-bis. Al sentir el golpecito se llev la mano a la frente y vio la
bolita. Dice que se le qued viendo un rato y como no le pas
nada, pues, la dej caer al charco de agua donde estaba de guardia.
Se sac un rasguo bastante largo a causa de los alambres de
pa y as fue cmo derram unas gotas de sangre en suelo francs.
Cuando se par el caoneo lo pusieron en otro barco, cruz el mar,
luego, por tren, lo llevaron de nuevo a San Antonio. All le dieron
ms dinero y lo despacharon en bus para Klail de donde no ha
vuelto a salir.
El Maistro, andando el tiempo, se cas y junto con su mujer
tuvieron un boln de hijos. Como dice l, unos vivos y otros bru-
tos pero todos comen.
Hombre pacfico, El Maistro, como muchos pintores, es gran
bebedor de cerveza, whiskey, vino y lo que aparezca. Ser un azar
de la profesin quin sabr? pero as es y en paz.
El Maistro tendr sus 75 aos pero todava pinta y, la verdad,
todava se echa un trago o dos o lo que tolere el hgado. Con sus
dos amigos, Echevarra y Leal, que son ms o menos de la misma
camada, El Maistro se pone a conversar de esas cosas propias de
los viejitos de Klail y de todo el mundo.
Supe por casualidad que era veterano de la primera guerra y no
le molesto con preguntas aunque me gusta su conversacin. Yo
estuve en lo de Corea un buen rato y aunque joven y todo, parece
que al Maistro y a m nos pas casi lo mismo: la experiencia pas
como las nubes que se desbaratan con aire y tiempo.
El American Legion Post en Klail es nuevo, desde la guerra
mundial nmero dos y el nombre en la puerta es el de Pfc. Joseph
T. Hargan que muri en el 43 cuando lo de Salerno. Los de la
cmara de comercio, los interesados y los ansiosos, esos del
Rotary y Leones, no saban que El Maistro era veterano de la pri-
mera guerra. Quiz no les importe . . .
Ah viene El Maistro.
Qu se le ofrece, don Genaro?
Aqu, Rafa; una Perla para m y otra para Echevarra y una Yax
para Leal.
Descuide, don Genaro, yo se las llev al booth.
Gracias, hijo.
El Maistro vuelve a su mesa donde le esperan sus dos amigos
y yo les escojo las cervezas ms fras.
165
VOCES DEL BARRIO
Cuando el sol se baja y los bolillos dejan sus tiendas, el pueblo
americano se duerme para no despertar hasta el da siguiente.
Cuando el sol se baja y la gente ha cenado, el pueblo mexica-
no se aviva y se oyen las voces del barrio: la gente mayor, los jve-
nes, los chicos, los perros . . .
Dicen que la Sooner Contracting de Ardmore anda buscando
gente . . .
Si no me equivoco, uno de los contratistas es Vctor Jara, El
Pirul .
Con ese? Ni a cruzar la calle, contims el estado.
Nios, vyanse a jugar a la calle y dejen a los mayores hablar.
A la momita, a la momita! Ese poste de telefn es el home-
base.
Tules virules, nalgas azules.
Juan Barragn bebe leche y caga pan.
No se vale ver, no se vale ver!
Te las hago largas a ti y a Vargas, sino las das, pa qu las car-
gas?
Pin marn de don ping
Ccara, mcara, ppere fue
Dos y dos son cuatro; cuatro y dos son seis; seis y dos son
ocho: y ocho, diez y seis.
Cuenta la tablita
que ya la cont
Cuntala de vuelta
que ya me cans.
Y por qu no saliste anoche?
No me dejaron; ya sabes. Te quedaste esperando?
Hasta la una.
Pobrecito.
No te burles.
Si no me burlo, Jeh . . . ndale, vmonos al parque.
Y tu hermanito?
Ah anda, jugando a las escondederas.
Vente.
Cuidado que nos ven agarrados de la mano.
Ah, raza . . .
De veras te quedaste esperando?
Hasta la una . . .
Y qu le dijo la enfermera, doa Faustina?
Pues casi nada, quiere que le saquemos las anginas al nio.
Y eso pa qu?
Dice que sin anginas no le darn tantos catarros.
Esas son cosas de los gringos que no tienen ms que hacer.
Ahora voy yo, ahora voy yo: Quieren tortillas duras?
No!
Duras?
No!
Ah, durazno!
Ahora yo, que va la ma: Lana sube, lana baja.
La navaja!
No s, cuao, eso de irse con contratista desconocido est
arriesgado.
De acuerdo, si hay veces que con los conocidos . . .
Claro . . . Verd . . . Ya lo creo . . .
No me explico, Federico?
Me entiendes, Mndez?
No me chingues, Juan Domnguez.
Nios, no molesten a los mayores!
Creo que ya es hora de irnos. Dnde estar Adela? Eh, t,
Andrs qu se hizo tu hermana?
La dej en el parque, am.
Ve por ella, ndale. Hasta maana, doa Faustina.
Si Dios es servido, doa Barbarita.
Ahora le toca al barrio dormir. En los barrios se habla de
mucho y, como de milagro, siempre se halla de qu hablar noche
tras noche.
El barrio puede llamarse el Rebaje, el de las Conchas, el Can-
tarranas, el Rincn del Diablo, el Pueblo Mexicano verdadera-
mente los ttulos importan poco.
Lo importante, como siempre, es la gente.
168
MESA REDONDA
Quin es ese muchacho, Genaro?
Se llama Rafa Buenrostro.
De cules Buenrostro?
De los de Julin?
No, ste es de Jess Buenrostro al que llamaban don Jess.
Ah, s; muri joven.
Ese fue el que trabaj con el viejo Burns?
No. Ese fue Julin. Don Jess tena unas tierras cerca del Car-
men.
Dnde se echaron a los rinches?
Ah mero.
Ya, ya. A don Jess le decan El Quieto.
El quieto?
S; jule Leal t ya no te acuerdas de nada.
Y quin es el otro?
El que se acaba de ir?
No, el que acaba de llegar.
Ah, se es Jeh Malacara.
De los Malacara de Relmpago?
Esos meros. Este es de Roque el que se cas con Tere.
La de las maromas?
No, hombre. La de las maromas era Pelez, hija de don Cami-
lo y doa Chucha. La madre de este muchacho era hija de don Jeh
Vilches.
El yerno de don Braulio Tapia.
ndale . . . Ya caigo.
T conociste a don Braulio, Echevarra?
Cmo no, aunque yo era mucho ms chico.
Este muchacho trabaj con los Pelez en las maromas y lo
medio cri don Vctor.
Buena persona, don Vctor.
Ya lo creo. Nos echamos otra, muchachos?
Oye, cuntas llevamos ya?
Dos, t?
No s. Sern tres?
Miren, acaba de llegar don Manuel.
Don Manuel ve a los ancianos y se sienta con ellos mientras
espera que Rafa Buenrostro le traiga su caf negro.
En qu estaban?
En lo mismo, ya sabe. Nos estamos acabando los viejos, don
Manuel.
Quite usted, don Genaro. Nosotros cuatro tenemos bastante
parque y municin todava.
Dios lo oiga, don Manuel.
As sea.
Muchacho, bjale a esa msica que los vecinos se quejan del
ruido.
S, don Manuel.
Voy a estar en la esquina, cuando quieran un aventn me avi-
san.
Los tres viejitos le dan las gracias, como siempre, y don
Manuel Guzmn se sale a andar por esas calles de Klail City, uno
de tantos pueblos en el condado de Belken en el Valle del Ro
Grande de Texas.
Por esas cosas
que pasan
173
EXTRACTO DEL The Klail City Enterprise-News
(March 15, 1970)
Klail City. (Special) Baldemar Cordero, 30, of 169 South Hidalgo
Street, is in the city jail following a row in a bar in the citys South-
side. Cordero is alleged to have fatally stabbed Arnesto Tamez,
also 30, over the affections of one of the hostesses who works
there.
No bail had been set at press time.
174
POR ESAS COSAS QUE PASAN*
No hay que darle vueltas. Yo mat al Ernesto Tamez en la can-
tina Aqu Me Quedo. No me pida detalles porque ni yo mismo s
cmo fue. Pero no tiene vuelta de hoja el tal Ernesto; lo dej tieso.
Lo que son las cosas, eh? Ayer mismo estaba yo pisteando con
mi cuado, Beto Castaeda, el que se cas con mi hermana Marta,
y estbamos zonceando y rindonos de una ocurrencia sobre no s
qu cuando entr Tamez echando madres a manga tendida. A m
me la ray as, a boca de jarro, pero se la dej pasar aunque ni nos
llevbamos l y yo.
Usted conoci a Tamez, verdad? Una vez en que Flix Cham-
pin alguien le atiz semejante botellazo en la nuca despus que
Tamez rompi el espejo aquel, recuerda? Bueno, a m no se me
ha olvidado y por eso cuando vea a Tamez, pues, si no le sacaba
la vuelta, por lo menos tampoco lo perda de vista.
As, como le dije, estbamos Beto y yo frotndonos unas
cervezas hasta que, como casi siempre suceda, se nos acababa el
conqu o nos ponamos cuetes pero sin molestar a nadie pidiendo
cerveza de gorra, ni nada.
Yo a Tamez y a toda su ralea los conoca desde la escuela y
cuando vivan en el Rebaje: Joaqun, el mayor, se cas con Jovita
de Anda que aunque antes era ms puta que las gallinas, parece
que se arregl cuando se cas con Joaqun. Emilio, el chueco,
qued as cuando se resbal de un tren de carga en la plataforma
de Chico Fernndez. La tal Bertita se cas con uno de los Leal que
sali muy jalador y se fue, dicen, a Muleshoe. Tambin dicen que
est muy rico y ojal que as sea porque taloneaba como pocos y
merecido se lo tiene. La Bertita no era lo que se dice una ganga
*Nota del editor: La grabacin en cinta magnetofnica que hizo Balde Cordero fue
enmendada slo en lo que va de ortografa. Ciertamente, lo que importa aqu es el con-
tenido no la forma. Marzo 16, 1970. Klail City Workhouse.
pero tampoco era una mujer mala. El Ernesto era otra cosa. Toda-
va no puedo comprender cmo se salv de tantas paradas que me
hizo hasta que lo cal yo en el Aqu Me Quedo. En fin . . .
Aqu no se le miente a nadie. Usted me conoce, Hinojosa, igual
que conoci a mis padres. Empezamos el pedo Beto y yo en el San
Diego, lo seguimos en el Diamond y, todava a pie, nos llegamos
al Blue Bar hasta que llegaron los Reyna. De estos, ni hablar, por-
que hasta las piedras saben que cuando andan motos se zambullen
una cerveza para que la chota crea que andan pistos y no con la
Juana encima. Al llegar los Reyna nos fuimos nosotros para que no
hubiera mitote. Anselmo Reyna, desde que le di aquella chinga de
perro bailarn en el Diamond, me trata con mucha consideracin.
Pero, al verlos motos y para no alborotar, decidimos irnos al Aqu
Me Quedo.
Curioso eh? que si los Reyna no hubieran ido al Blue Bar no
hubiera pasado nada. Puro pedo. Cuando algo va a suceder, suce-
de; para qu irse contra viento y marea? Al Ernesto ya le tocaba
anoche y yo tena que ser el que lo iba a despachar. Algo as como
despacha una orden de mercanca el Luisito Moncivis, ese joto
que lleva los libros en que los Torres. A veces me da miedo pensar
que mat a un cristiano. Qu cosas! Verdad?
Fjese, Hinojosa, me acuerdo del por qu pero no del cundo.
Que a m me la mienten en general qu ms da . . . pero que se le
enfrenten a uno, as, de sopetn, luego, agrguele usted que anda-
ba yo medio jalao y que Ernesto era un hinchapelotas que me deba
unas cuantas paradas de sas y, para acabarla, que era un bato
furris que me caa peseta por lo fanfarrn . . . pues, qu quiere?
Nos agarramos.
Beto me dijo despus que a l le chisporrote sangre en el
brazo y en la cara. Beto tambin dijo que yo ni pestae ni nada.
De mi parte le dir que no o nada: ni los gritos de las viejas, ni el
remolino de los mirones que se acercaron. Nada.
Me acuerdo que sal a la banqueta y que vi una casa donde
estaba una familia viendo televisin. Tan inocentes de lo que aca-
baba de suceder como yo lo haba estado haca unos cinco minu-
tos. Dejando de chingaderas, eso de la vida y la muerte infunde
cierto miedo porque uno, verdaderamente, no sabe nada de nada.
No le dije que una vez el Ernesto, en frente de todos, me quit
una vieja en El Farol? S, como lo oye. En otra ocasin le dijo a
otra que yo tena una purgacin. Me hizo tantas otras chingaderas
parecidas pero por esas cosas que pasan, no le hice nada. Mejor le
hubiera cortado el pedo all . . . pero vaya usted a saber! A lo
mejor, no, verdad?
Bueno, anoche no slo me la ray en la cara sino que tambin
se ri de m y me dijo que me faltaban huevos y pelos en el pecho.
Eso a m no me lo dice nadie a no ser que me lleve con l, como
usted sabe. Yo no le dije nada, noms me le qued viendo y el pen-
dejo tal vez se crey que le tena miedo. Sigui jodiendo y se trajo
a una de las viejas que bailan en el Aqu Me Quedo y me ech en
cara que me haba rajado otras veces. Creo que la vieja estaba entre
asustada y avergonzada pero, no pendeja, ni chist. Recuerdo, casi,
que me empezaron a zumbar los odos como si en vez de sombre-
ro llevara encima un panal de avispas. Segua el zumbido, oa la
voz cargante de aquel menso, vea la sonrisa idiotizada de la vieja,
y, de repente, o un grito desgarrador y vi que Ernesto se desliza-
ba de los brazos de la vieja.
S recuerdo que respir hondamente y que sal del lugar a la
banqueta donde divise una familia reunida en la sala viendo la tele-
visin. Ms tarde me di cuenta que en la mano zurda llevaba la
navaja de cachas blancas que me haba regalado pap Albino.
Entr de nuevo a la cantina y de nuevo sal. Ni trat de correr.
Para qu? Y, adnde me iba si todos me conocan? Cuando entr
otra vez vi que haban echado agua al piso de cemento y que ha -
ban barrido la sangre como si tal cosa. Al Ernesto se lo llevaron a
la bodega donde tienen la cerveza y la carne seca para la botana.
Cuando lleg don Manuel yo mismo le entregu la navaja y me fui
con l en su carro cuando acab lo que tena que hacer. Despus,
al bote, ya ve.
Muy de maana me trajo caf uno de los hijos de don Manuel
y se esper hasta que me lo tomara. Fjese que he tratado de acor-
darme del momento preciso cuando sepult la navaja en el pecho
de aquel baboso y nada. En blanco. Tambin puede ser que no
quiera acordarme . . .
Beto se acaba de ir diciendo que tiene que ir al district attorney
para una declaracin. Ms tarde, quin dir, pero por ahora me
siento mal por lo que hice anoche . . . Eso de que a lo hecho, pecho,
son puras ganas de hablar. Crame, me molesta que haya tenido que
matar al Ernesto Tamez. A veces pienso que eso de quitarle la vida
al prjimo est de la patada.
Hice mal, lo reconozco, pero a veces tambin pienso que si
Ernesto me insultara de nuevo, pues de nuevo lo matara. La ver-
dad, uno nunca aprende.
No le canso ms que veo que me repito por ser esto lo nico
que me interesa. Gracias por la venida y ya sabe que se agradecen
los cigarros. Tal vez algn da yo mismo sepa verdaderamente por
qu lo mat pero qu quiere! l se iba a morir un da de estos y
ya estara que yo le adelantara la fecha. Fjese, ya estoy de nuevo.
Ah; antes de que se vaya: dgale a Mr. Royce que maana no
estar en el jale. Ni modo. Mire, tambin dgale que me debe una
semana de raya . . .
Hasta luego, Hinojosa . . . y gracias, eh?
178
MARTA CUENTA LO SUYO*
. . . no, pos, sabe que cuando muri pap Albino como resultado de
aquel accidente en Saginaw, Balde decidi que nos quedramos all
hasta que se resolviera el asunto. De primero, el contratista que nos
trajo desde el Valle, se port muy mal y Balde tuvo que amenazar-
lo para que hiciera algo. Con lo poco que le sacamos, Balde con-
trat a un abogado para la demanda a la Dailey Pickle. El abogado
ese era jovencito pero ladino porque hizo que la mentada compaa
pepinera nos pagara algo que llaman indemnizacin. Cuando se
resolvi lo de pap, pagamos lo que debamos de una vez y hasta
nos sobr lo suficiente para pasar el tiempo de fro mientras nos
enganchbamos con otro contratista o hallbamos trabajo. (Para
este tiempo, Beto ya andaba hacindome la ronda pero por lo del
luto, usted comprender, no tena entrada en la casa.)
Usted conoce a Balde desde nio y, como deca pap, qu quie-
re que le diga. Mam lleva muchos aos de estar tullida y as con
sus achaques y todo no ha dejado de hacer los viajes con nosotros.
Bien, all estbamos varias familias mexicanas en Saginaw, aguar-
dando el fro y con el intento de trabajar en lo que saliera. El pri-
mero que consigui trabajo fue Balde como watchimn en el puer-
to; poco despus, le consigui un puesto all a Beto, as es que los
dos se hicieron ms amigos y luego, como usted ya sabe, se hicie-
ron cuados cuando Beto y yo nos casamos. En ese entonces Balde
tena 27 aos y muchas oportunidades de casarse pero, parte por lo
de mam y parte por la necesidad en casa, pues nunca se cas.
Cuando volvimos al Valle hace dos aos, sigui en las mismas.
Balde es noble y trabajador, es ms, cuando sala de casa a cerve-
cear, se apartaba de pleitos lo ms que poda para no faltar en casa.
(Le han sucedido casos en que ha tragado mucha hiel pero se ve que
piensa en nosotras y por eso trata de evitar zafarranchos y alboro-
*Grabado el 17 de marzo de 1970.
tes.) Yo casi lo nico que s de esto es por lo que Beto me cuenta,
pero son contadas las veces que habla de sus asuntos. Una vez, por
casualidad, o que Balde le haba dado una santa golpiza a uno de
los Reyna pero de eso no se habl en casa.
Mire que es difcil de contarle a usted lo que pens o lo que dije
cuando ocurri lo de Neto Tamez. De primero no poda o no quera
creerlo, tal vez no poda imaginrmelo, sabe, porque no me caba en
la cabeza que mi hermano Balde matara a alguien. No crea que lo
digo porque Balde sea un santo, no, pero seguramente deba ser algo
grueso que Balde no pudo remediar. Le dir que le haba costado
mucho trabajo dominarse a s mismo y puede ser que esa noche el
tal Ernesto se sobrepas: Beto me haba contado de ciertas paradas
hechas por el Neto Tamez pero como Beto habla tan poco no siem-
pre logro entender todo lo que dice. Por parte de Balde, nada, o
punto menos, porque lo nico que de la calle traa a casa era una
sonrisa en la boca. Eso s, de vez en cuando lo vea ms serio que en
velorio pero, quite usted, qu le iba a preguntar yo nada. Pues, ya ve,
con esos dos hombres, la casa, la comida y la lavada, y con mam
como est, bastante tengo yo pa andar en chismes.
No me hago la inocente, no, slo que quiero decirle que mucho
de lo que s lo o de Beto, o de las amigas que venan a vernos o, en
las raras veces que Balde y Beto discutan. Lo que me supona tam-
bin se lo estoy diciendo, pero ya le advert que una no sabe todo, ni
mucho menos. Todo mundo sabe que Neto Tamez siempre andaba
de picabuches con mi hermano Balde y que mi hermano se las deja-
ba pasar. Yo le digo a usted que si Balde no le par bola a Neto antes
fue porque pensaba en nosotras. Esa es la verdad. Lo que no sabe la
gente es por qu Neto se portaba as con mi hermano.
Le voy a contar: desde la escuela el tal Neto me mandaba car-
tas, me segua a la casa y usaba a los que le tenan miedo como
mensajeros. Yo nunca le puse cuidado ni le di esperanzas tampoco.
Las muchachas me contaban que no dejaba que otros muchachos
se me acercaran como si l fuera el que mandaba en m o tal cosa.
De esto hace aos, y no le dije nada a Balde, pero la primera vez
que o que Neto le hara la vida pesada yo saba o crea saber por
qu lo hara. No s si Balde saba o no pero, como dice Beto, todo
puede ser.
Una vez mis amigas me contaron que en esos lugares como La
Golondrina y El Farolito, Neto Tamez insult a Balde varias veces
y de varias maneras; ya le quitaba la bailadora, o hablaba mal de
Balde o haca cualquier otra perrera, pero siempre con el mismo
propsito: el de hacerle la vida pesada, no ve? No digo que Tamez
lo segua no, pero le estoy diciendo que tampoco perda la oportu-
nidad de estarlo machacando hasta que Balde se iba del lugar.
Conste que vivir en el mismo pueblo, casi en el mismo barrio, y
soportarle tantas barrabasadas es cosa de mucha paciencia. Balde
no haca corajes en casa y cuando volva tornado o sano, era el
mismo: un beso a mam, platicaba un rato con nosotras y despus
se sentaba a fumar en el corredor. Comparado a Balde, Beto, que
no habla mucho, parece una chachalaca.
Los Tamez son bastante raros. Cuando vivan en el Rebaje,
parece que esa gente andaba de pleitos con los vecinos y con
medio mundo. Me acuerdo que cuando el Joaqun, por esas cosas
que pasan, se tuvo que casar con Jovita de Anda, don Servando
Tamez no permiti que ninguno de los de Anda fuera al casamien-
to. Cuentan que el pobre de don Marcial de Anda, un hombrecito
que no serva para nada, llor como un nio. Me acuerdo ver al
Emilio con su pata corta pasendose en frente de la casa como si
fuera polica. Menos mal que la pobre doa Tula Tamez ya haba
muerto para ese tiempo. Posiblemente lo nico bueno que haya
salido de esa casa fue Bertita, la que quiso ser novia de Balde. Por
fin se huy con Ramiro Leal, el de la tortillera . . .
Bueno, de todas maneras, ayer, as que usted fue a ver a Balde
a la crcel, lleg don Manuel Guzmn. Dijo que vino a saludar a
mam pero de vers vino a decirle que no se preocupara ella por
los gastos de la casa. (Quin lo dira! A ese hombre yo le he visto
derramar trompadas, caonazos, patadas y maldiciones a ms de
cien borrachos y marihuanos para luego llevarles caf a la crcel el
da siguiente. Eso s, desde que don Manuel est de polica, una
mujer puede andar sola y de noche por esas calles, y ni quin la
moleste.) Al salir, don Manuel me dijo que podamos sacar la pro-
visin en que los Torres.
Mam y yo estamos solas sin Balde pero gracias a Dios que
todava tengo a Beto. Ojal que los Tamez no vengan a buscarle
bulla a l porque entonces s nos hundimos mam y yo sin un hom-
bre en casa. Beto horita anda en la oficina del district attorney
donde est haciendo una declaracin como testigo.
Ay, Sr. Hinojosa, no s dnde vaya a parar lo nuestro . . . En
fin, Dios dir.
182
ROMEO HINOJOSA
Attorney at Law
4420 South Cerralvo Tel. 843-1640
Lo que sigue es la declaracin en ingls que hizo Beto Casta-
eda, hoy, el 17 de marzo de 1970, en el despacho del seor Robert
A. Chapman, asistente del procurador por el condado de Belken.
El susodicho oficial de la corte me concedi la declaracin
como parte del testimonio en el juicio The State v. Cordero, que se
asign para el 23 de agosto del mismo ao en la corte del juez
Harrison Phelps que preside sobre la corte del distrito estatal
nmero 139.
Romeo Hinojosa
183
A DEPOSITION FREELY GIVEN
on this seventeenth day of March 1970, by Mr. Gilberto Castae-
da in room 218 of the Belken County Court House was duly taken,
witnessed and signed by Miss Helen Chacn, a legal interpreter
and acting assistant deputy recorder for said County, as part of a
criminal investigation assigned to Robert A. Chapman, assistant
district attorney for the same County.
It is understood that Mr. Castaeda is acting solely as a depo-
nent and is not a party to any civil or criminal investigation, pro-
ceeding or violation which may be alluded to in this deposition.
Well, my name is Gilberto Castaeda, and I live
at 169 South Hidalgo Street here in Klail. It is
not my house; it belong to my mother-in-law, but I
have live there since I marry Marta (Marta Cordero
Castaeda, 169 South Hidalgo Street, Klail City)
about three years ago.
I am working at the Royce-Fedders tomato pack-
ing shed as a grader. My brother-in-law, Balde
Cordero, work there too. He pack tomatoes and dont
get pay for the hour, he get pay for what he pack
and since I am a grader I make sure he get the same
class tomato and that way he pack faster; he just
get a tomato with the right hand, and he wrap it
with the left. He pack a lug of tomatoes so fast
you dont see it, and he does it fast because I am
a good grader.
Balde is a good man. His father, Don Albino, my
father-in-law who die up in Saginaw, Michigan, when
Marta and I, you know, go together . . . well, Balde
is like Don Albino, you understand? A good man. A
right man. Me, I stay an orphan and when the Mejas
take me when my father and my mother die in that
train wrecknear Flora? Don Albino tell the Mejas
I must go to the school. I go to First Ward Ele-
mentary where Mr. Gold is principal. In First Ward
I am a friend of Balde and there I meet Marta too.
Later, when I grow up I dont visit the house too
much because of Marta, you know what I mean? Any-
way, Balde is my friend and I have known him very
well . . . maybe more than nobody else. Hes a good
man.
Well, last night Balde and I took a few beers
in some of the places near where we live. We drink
a couple here and a couple there, you know, and we
save the Aqu me quedo on South Missouri for last.
It is there that I tell Balde a joke about the drunk
guy who is going to his house and he hear the clock
in the corner make two sounds. You know that one?
Well, this drunk guy he hear the clock go bong-bong
and he say that the clock is wrong for it give one
oclock two time. Well, Balde think that is funny
. . . Anyway, when I tell the joke in Spanish its
better. Well, there we were drinking a beer when
Ernesto Tamez comes. Ernesto Tamez is like a woman,
you know? Every time he get in trouble he call his
family to help him . . . that is the way it is with
him. Well, that night he bother Balde again. More
than one time Balde has stop me when Tamez begin to
insult. That Balde is a man of patience. This time
Ernesto bring a vieja (woman) and Balde dont say
nothing, nothing, nothing. What happens is that
things get spooky, you know. Ernesto talking and
burlndose de l (ridiculing him) and at the same
time he have the poor woman by the arm. And then
something happen. I dont know what happen, but
something and fast.
I dont know. I really dont know. It all hap-
pen so fast; the knife, the blood squirt all over
my face and arms, the woman try to get away, a loud
really loud scream, not a grito (local Mexican
yell) but more a woman screaming, you know what I
mean? and then Ernesto fall on the cement.
Right there I look at Balde and his face is like
a mask in asleep, you understand? No angry, no sur-
prise, nothing. In his left hand he have the knife
and he shake his head before he walk to the door.
Look, it happen so fast no one move for a while.
Then Balde come in and go out of the place and when
Don Manuel (Manuel Guzmn, constable for precinct
21) come in, Balde just hand over the knife. Lucas
Barrn, you know, El Chorreao (a nickname) well, he
wash the blood and sweep the floor before Don
Manuel get there. Don Manuel just shake his head
and tell Balde to go to the car and wait. Don Manuel
he walk to the back to see Ernesto and on the way
out one of the women, I think it is la gera Baln
(Amelia Cortez, 23, no known address, this city),
try to make a joke, but Don Manuel he say no ests
chingando (shut the hell up, or words to that
effect) and after that Don Manuel go about his own
business. Me, I go to the door but all I see is
Balde looking at a house across the street and he
dont even know I come to say goodbye. Anyway, this
morning a little boy of Don Manuel say for me to
come here and here I am.
Further deponent sayeth not.
Sworn to before me, this
17th day of March 1970
/s/_____________________ /s/_____________________
Helen Chacn Gilberto Castaeda
Acting Asst. Dpty. Recorder
Belken County
186
EXTRACTO DE The Klail City Enterprise-News
(August 24, 1970)
Klail City. (Special). Baldemar Cordero, 30, of 169 South Hidalgo
Street, drew a 15-year sentence in Judge Harrison Phelps 139th
District Court for the murder of Ernesto Tamez last Spring to be
served in the Huntsville State Prison. PICK UP.
Cordero is alleged to have fatally stabbed Ernesto Tamez, also 30,
over the affections of one of the hostesses who works there.
PICK UP.
No appeal had been made at press time.
Vidas y milagros
189
PARA EMPEZAR, UNA DEDICATORIA
A fin de cuentas, este mundo es como una botica: hay un poco
de todo. Altos, bajos, llorones, valientes, gordos, flacos, buenos,
malos, listos y pendejos, unos enclenques, otros rebosantes de
salud. El escritor, sin permiso de nadie, se sale a la calle y escoge
de todo un poco. No se dude que de todo haya un poco y no se con-
funda creyendo que haya mucho de todo a ver, cuntos Napo-
leones ha habido? O Hitlers? O Jesucristos? Dejemos esto para
volver a ello ms adelante.
Hay gente que teme tanto cometer una falta en sociedad (ense-
ar la oreja, meter la pata, mearse el lado del pantaln) que, a la
hora de la hora, no se atreve a nada. Esos, como temen errar, no
llegarn a probar la honrada comida de una boda chicana de ran-
cho donde, gracias a Dios, se vale todo. (Se vale todo en el senti-
do de que uno est entre amigos y conocidos y es mejor no andar
con melindres que, al fin y al cabo, resultan ser insinceros.)
Bien. Hasta la fecha ha habido slo un Napolen (o un Romeo
o un Raskolnikov); los tres, en diversos sentidos, se asemejan y
dnde empieza y termina la ficcin del primero y dnde la de los
dos ltimos? Me parece intil el tratar de revestirlos con otros
nombres y otras ropas: El chango en camisa de seda . . . Eso de tra-
zar a alguien conocido es como jactarse de abrir brecha en camino
trillado algo que viene siendo casi tan ruin como pensar en otra
mujer mientras le hacemos el amor a la propia.
La originalidad, metal difcil de asir como el azogue, quiz no
toque tampoco en los hombres por aquello de que de barro veni-
mos, etc. A fin de cuentas, otra vez, somos y no somos iguales
como han reconocido tantos otros.
De paso. Esa gente curiosa que se divierte con datos cientficos
y que tiene el afn de explicarlo todo, tiene todo el derecho de vivir
y de decir lo que se le ocurra. De su parte, por supuesto, esa gente
debe dejar de andar jodiendo al pblico por la muy buena razn de
que tanto se lleva el cntaro al agua . . . En el mundo hay pasto para
todos, no empujen.
Lo que sigue se dedica a la gente de Belken County y a sus
espejos que los ven buenos, enfermos, en pelota, llorando, etc., de
noche y de da.
191
AS SE CUMPLE
No lejos de Bascom est el cementerio mexicano; all en un
octubre ms fro de la cuenta enterraron a Pioquinto Reyes. Fue
una cosa escueta y como el tiempo no daba para ms, la gente acu-
rrucada en grupitos y con la cabeza agachada defendindose con-
tra la llovizna, se desparramaba con prisa hasta abandonar el lugar
para otra ocasin. En el Valle, como en todas partes, el fro y la
muerte suelen venir a deshora.
El difunto Pioquinto, a pesar de su nombre, era presbiteriano.
En su juventud haba sido demasiado serio y luego, ms tarde, se
hizo viejo antes de que llegara ni a los cuarenta. Hay gente que
nace as, marcada y sealada como quin diga: t vas a ser as, tu
as y t asado; en fin, lo de siempre, el hombre propone y la tierra
se lo come. A Pioquinto le toc morir en el motel Holiday Inn que
est en la carretera once enfrente de lo que fue, en mejor vida
quiz, el lmite del barrio de los negros.
El Pioquinto no trabajaba en el motel: estaba de husped; el
Pioquinto trabajaba como contador en que vila Hnos. (al mayo-
reo y menudeo; se reparte en casa). El Pioquinto, cuando oy el
trompetazo anunciando su da de juicio, estaba montado sobre
Viola Barragn, mujer que, hace veinte aos, fue carne de can
de lo mejor, y, ahora, todava da qu decir. El Pioquinto estir la
pata, es un decir, en plena accin, entregando el arpa como cual-
quier hijo de vecino.
Cuenta Rafa Buenrostro que l, de chico, asisti al entierra del
hombre y, de paso, conoci a unos parientes Buenrostro en Bas-
com. Los Buenrostro vinieron de Quertaro al Valle cuando lo de
Escandn. Entre los Buenrostro hay pobres y ricos y otros que ni
tanto, como deca don Vctor Pelez. Sucede que despus del
entierro y cuando la gente ya se haba colado, una mujer con su
buen abrigo de gamuza y sombrerito de piel con velo de oreja a
oreja se dirigi al montn de tierra donde descansaba el Pioquin-
to. De su bolsa negra de charol extrajo un pauelo del cual estuvo
deshaciendo un nudo hasta desatarlo para producir un anillo de oro
que ni ancho ni grueso. Tuvo que ensuciar los guantes al enterrar
el anillo al pie del montn de tierra pero ni pareci darle mayor
importancia al lodo que se formaba entre el tejemaneje de los
terrones y la llovizna persistente. Nada de rezos ni lloriqueos sino,
ms bien, una mirada resignada con la frente alta, la vista despeja-
da, y sin la menor mueca traidora en la boca.
Segn Rafa Buenrostro, Viola, viuda por primera vez a los die-
ciocho aos poco antes de la segunda guerra mundial (en lo que va
de siglo) tocaba el piano bastante mal y cantaba canciones que
nadie conoca. Se haba casado con un nacional de Agualeguas,
Nuevo Len, expatriado mdico cirujano que vino a morir a manos
de un boticario que ejerca sin ttulo.
A los siete meses Viola se arrim con don Javier Leguizamn,
dueo de esos terrenos en Edgerton que, por no despreciar, se los
haba quitado tanto a la raza como a los bolillos. Esto dur hasta
que Viola, frisando los veinte o veintin aos, fue reemplazada por
Gela Maldonado, pero esto es otra historia. Con este rompimiento,
la viudita se despabil.
Despus de lo de don Javier, Viola se volvi a casar; esta vez
con un alemn agregado al consulado general en Tampico, Tamau-
lipas, que haba cruzado la frontera a Estados Unidos en plan de
paseo y que volvi con Viola cruzados de brazo. De Tampico la
pareja zarp para la India donde el esposo iba como primer secre-
tario al embajador alemn. La guerra mundial, como ya se sabe,
ech la cosa al traste y as fue como Viola Barragn, muchacha ori-
ginaria de Ruffing, Texas, hija de Telsforo Barragn y Felcitas
Surs de Barragn, fue a parar en un campo de concentracin ingls
en las afueras de Calcutta. Me la tuvieron en la sombra al lado de
su seor esposo hasta que se les traslad a Pretoria en la repblica
sudafricana donde les sorprendi la rendicin del coronel-general
Jodl en una escuela de primaria de aquel oscuro pueblecito francs.
El esposo de Viola no perdi ripio; se volvi a Alemania y, ni
corto ni perezoso, en menos de cinco aos ya estaba de nuevo en
Pretoria como funcionario de la Volkswagen Werke y, por supues-
to, con Viola a su lado. Andando el tiempo, el alemn muere de
repente, le deja a Viola sus buenos pesos, sta vuelve a Estados
Unidos y, como los mismos pajaritos a su nido, cae en Belken
County.
De vuelta a su pueblo natal encontr que Telsforo y Felcitas
se haban mudado a Edgerton. All les cay Viola; se compr una
casona; recogi a sus padres; no se olvid en nada de sus parien-
tes y conocidos; y, aparentemente, se retir de su vida andariega y
aventurera.
La gente, maravillada, no hallaba por dnde empezar y lo
nico que poda decir era que a Viola no se le haba olvidado el
espaol. Lo ms probable es que ni se preocup por aprender ale-
mn; a decir verdad, en muchos casos ni se necesita hablar.
Pasando el tiempo, el diablo, ese amigo del dbil, le depar
una sorpresa ms a Viola Barragn en la figura de Pioquinto Reyes.
Pioquinto, seriecito, de camisa a rayas bien almidonada, se
haba casado con Blanca Rivera; no tuvieron hijos, pero parte para
compensar y parte por aquello de que de lo perdido lo que aparez-
ca, Blanca y el hermano Limn lograron que Pioquinto se hiciera
presbiteriano. La batalla debi ser corta y con poca sangre porque
al Pioquinto no le gustaba alborotar.
Cuando Viola se instal en Edgerton, Pioquinto, seguramente,
ni cuenta se dio. Lo que pas fue que un buen da, Viola, que con
tiempo y dinero de sobra, acostumbraba atravesar el Valle en carro
desde Edgerton a Jonesville-on-the-River, iba por Bascom en
aquel carrazo color guindo cuando divis a Pioquinto por vez pri-
mera. Al catarlo con esa cara seria y santona, Viola dijo para s,
ste es de los mos; ahora hago lo que hago porque me da la gana
y no por comer caliente. Y as fue como el diablo los junt hasta
que Dios, meses ms tarde, los separ en el motel.
Cuando el Pioquinto petate en el Holiday Inn, Viola (que ya
no se asustaba de nada) se visti sin prisa desocupando el cuarto
para salir gallardamente rumbo a Edgerton donde se desentendi
del caso como si tal cosa. Al Pioquinto se lo encontr una secatra-
pos que aviso al gerente que etc. y etc.
Lo sepultaron en el cementerio mexicano de Bascom; su afli-
gida esposa y dems familiares le rogaron al Seor que viera por
su alma y que lo recogiera en su seno por los siglos de los siglos,
amn. Los feligreses presbiterianos del Buen Pastor Church en la
calle nueve hicieron todo a la mano.
Viola? Regular, gracias, y ahora a los cincuenta y pico de aos
todava se defiende bastante bien contra el tiempo. Lo del anillo,
ni para qu decirlo, fue un gesto de primera, un gesto de despren-
dimiento digno de enseanza a los de poco corazn.
195
LOS REVOLUCIONARIOS
Se acaban los revolucionarios. En el condado de Belken, en el
Valle, quedan pocos; unos libres y otros, con menos fortuna, pri-
sioneros en esas rest homes de las que nadie se salva. Esos, los de
las rest homes, en efecto, ya no son revolucionarios; son cartuchos
quemados, parque mojado que no rinde chispa. Son como las balas
Mauser en los rifles Springfield: inservibles. Ese es el caso.
Los otros, los libres, se estn acabando tambin, salvo que
ellos saben todava muy bien quines son y qu fueron. Como
estn libres, se juntan de noche a madrugada en la banca de la
esquina y platican de esto y aquello cada vez puliendo, mejorando
sus historias mientras que la memoria (esa novia infiel) les echa
zancadilla de vez en cuando. Sin embargo, son incansables; vuel-
ven a la carga tal y como lo hicieron en las filas de Villa, de Lucio
Blanco y de los hermanos Arrieta en San Pedro de las Colonias,
Culiacn, Celaya . . .
Estos viejitos como don Braulio Tapia, Evaristo Garrido y don
Manuel Guzmn, nacieron en Estados Unidos pero guerrearon en la
Revolucin igual que tantos otros de la misma camada y calaa,
como se dice. Los padres de esta gente tambin nacieron en este
pas as como los abuelos (aqu se habla ya de 1765 y antes). Como
la tierra era igual para los mxicoamericanos dada la proximidad a
las fronteras y el boln de parientes en ambos lados que nunca dis-
tinguieron entre tierra y ro, el atravesar la una y cruzar el otro lo
mismo era, fue y (aunque los de la inmigracin la migra no lo
crean) sigue siendo igual para muchos mxicoamericanos; la raza,
pues, haca lo que le daba la gana con su vida.
Los padres y tos que criaron a estos revolucionarios tambin
guerrearon y fueron revolucionarios (los sediciosos como se les
llamaba), slo que lo fueron ac, en su propio pas, en lo que se
viene llamando Estados Unidos de Amrica.
Esto de ser revolucionario le puede tocar a cualquiera pero,
como en todas las cosas, son pocos los escogidos. Son algo as
como el ganado ajeno que va y viene, cambia de marca y dueo
pero, al fin, lo de siempre: vienen el tiempo y la jodencia, y apaga
la luz que ya nos vamos.
I
Braulio Tapia, natural de El Esquilmo (ahora, Skidmore)
Texas, naci en agosto de 1883; a Braulio lo criaron Juan Nepo-
muceno Celaya y una ta materna, Barbarita Faras de Celaya,
ambos de Goliad, Texas, donde el que sustituy al gral. Urrea hizo
pasar por las armas al coronel Fannin y a otros insurgentes duran-
te la rebelin de Texas en 1835-36.
Braulio apareci en lo que es ahora Belken County en 1908 y
se cas dos aos despus con Sstenes Calvillo, hija nica de don
Prxedis Calvillo y Albinita Buenrostro. De este matrimonio naci
Matilde; sta se cas con don Jeh Vilches y tuvieron una hija,
Mara Teresa de Jess, que se cas con Roque Malacara. Al llegar
a esta ltima generacin, las tierras y propiedades que la raza
sostena en la regin ya pertenecan, en muy gran parte, a los
bolillos; la raza que lleg a quedarse con tierra se poda dividir
casi en dos partes: en primer lugar, los ms viejos que se formaron
en contra de los bolillos en trmites de s-y-no (aunque tambin
corri la sangre); y en segundo lugar, los otros, los ansiosos, o sea,
la raza que se granje con la bolillada para comerse las sobras en
forma de tierra que les dejaban los montoneros, los polticos y los
abogados.
Cuando Braulio Tapia habla con sus amigos, habla ms de lo
que hizo su padre de crianza, don Juan Ene, que lo que l, Braulio,
le toc hacer en la Revolucin. Es rara la vez que se queje pero
cuando lo hace es por las piernas donde lleva dos o tres balas (no
se acuerda ya del nmero exacto) que por poco lo aplastan duran-
te el sitio de San Pedro de las Colonias. Cuando le da la gana se
pone a cantar aquello de:
San Pedro de las Colonias;
que lejos te vas quedando
quedando!
Un pariente de Braulio, aunque difcil de descifrar la parente-
la, es Evaristo Garrido.
II
Evaristo nunca se cas pero dej sucesin: dos hijos por
Andreta Cano (de Ruffing), el Pascual que se muri en la tifoidea
del 16 y Andrs que sali tonto. Tambin, una muchachita de
Petrita San Miguel: la Natalia que se cas con Sotero Garza Pars,
originario de Cadereyta Jimnez, Nuevo Len.
Los Vilches, los Garrido y los Malacara viejos se aliaron para
sostener las tierras contra los rinches, primero en el rancho Toluca
de los Vilches, cerca de Relmpago, y luego, durante toda una
semana santa, en el rancho del Carmen, en las tierras de don Jess
Buenrostro, El Quieto. Despus de estos dos encontronazos los
rinches se dejaron de estar molestando.
En otras ocasiones y en otros lugares, la raza perdi tierra y
gente, legalmente y a traicin. A los muertos, ni se diga, les impor-
ta poco el cmo y el dnde.
Cuando el tiroteo en Toluca, varios parientes del otro lado cru-
zaron el ro para ayudar a la raza aunque no compartieron en el
combate. Cruzaron porque unos que dizque voluntarios de la
caballera americana haban acampado cerca del terreno de los Vil-
ches y Malacara; como los parientes no eran dejados, se quedaron
a ver qu hacan los soldados mientras los rinches y la gente de
Toluca estaban en lo suyo. As se qued la cosa hasta que la sol-
dadesca se volvi a Fort Jones en Jonesville-on-the-River. Los
parientes los siguieron a la distancia por el lado mexicano.
Evaristo estuvo en Culiacn y en Matamoros con Lucio Blanco.
Durante el bombardeo de Matamoros, Evaristo fue a visitar a unos
parientes en las Yescas que est al otro lado de Relmpago, Texas:
all conoci a la Petrita San Miguel. En Culiacn, tiempo atrs, no
le haba ido tan bien: dej la mano derecha, con todos los dedos, en
el estado de Sinaloa; granada de mano que revent antes de tiempo.
III
Don Manuel Guzmn lleg a conocer a Villa y a Obregn, en
persona. Empez vendindole caballos al primero y acabo enro-
lndose en las filas del segundo como zapador. Dej a Villa des-
pus de las refriegas en Celaya; volvi primero a Flora y, al poco
tiempo, se mud a Klail City. All se estuvo varios meses: se cas,
compr terreno y volvi a la carga formando parte del ejrcito
constitucional en el distrito militar de Papantla, Veracruz. De ah
su larga amistad con don Vctor Pelez.
Don Manuel se cas con doa Josefa Carrin hurfana de
Julin Carrin y Mara del Pilar Sifuentes, ambos muertos en un
ataque por unos apaches bandoleros en Seago Point, Texas. Doa
Josefa fue una mujer fuerte. Am a su esposo, nunca le dio guerra,
no le molesto con el-qu-dirn y le cri cinco hijos: dos de ellos y
tres que aparecieron en su casa un sbado de gloria. No se sabe por
qu escogieron esa casa de tantas en la vecindad pero se les cri
como hijos y, de suerte, todos salieron bien.
El hombre conoci a Obregn y parece que le cay bien al
sonorense porque se le nombr oficial primero de carceleros en
Lecumberri. Las cosas iban bien y cuando estaba pensando en tra-
erse a la familia para Mxico, Toral de Len asesina a Obregn en
La Bombilla y don Manuel abandona la idea de quedarse en la
capital. Vuelve a Klail por un rato y se da cuenta que ha perdido el
terreno que haba comprado. Doa Josefa, a pesar de su fuerza, no
le llegaba a la punta de los pies al papelaje que le encajaron los
land developers.
Don Manuel no raj. Se hizo domador de caballos en que los
Tuero. (All, precisamente, le dio en la madre a Javier Leguiza-
mn, padre, que en ese tiempo la haca de correiveidile a los
Cooke, a los Blanchard y a los Klail.) Ms tarde don Manuel tuvo
una lechera y tres sastreras, dos en Flora, otra en Ruffing. Con el
dinero que hizo ayud a muchos amigos revolucionarios ms nece-
sitados que l. Andando el tiempo, don Domingo Villalobos hizo
que a don Manuel lo nombraran polica en Klail City, en el barrio
mexicano. As todos salieron bien: los bolillos porque no tenan
que molestarse con la raza, y la raza misma que, en don Manuel,
hallaron a todo un hombre.
Lea y escriba lo que se dice bien; el ingls lo chapuceaba pero
siendo hombre discreto no se meta mucho en ese idioma.
Las vidas de don Manuel fueron en espaol.
Ahora ya le fallan los ojos pero el nimo no y mientras haya
amigos . . .
200
UN DOMINGO EN KLAIL
Vamosay! Vamosay! Cuadro . . . nimo en el cuadro!
Vamosay, palomilla, nobody hurt, nobody hurt! Vamosay!
El que grita se llama Arturo Leyva:
Tenedor de libros de profesin;
fantico de bisbol por aficin;
a los cuatro sufri de sarampin;
y en la escuela le llamaban el Cagn.
Arturo no entiende muy bien eso de nobody hurt pero lo
repite porque es algo que ha odo desde nio. Esto no quiere decir
que Arturo no sepa ingls; al contrario, se defiende bastante bien.
Sin embargo, eso de nobody hurt sigue siendo un misterio.
Arturo est en el parque Leones viendo al 30-30 de Klail en un
double-header contra el Sox de Flora. Est reido el combate;
Lzaro Skinny Pea no ha permitido un hit (ni a su madre, si a
doa Estela se le ocurriera arrimarse con un bate al plato). La cosa
se va poniendo buena. La pelota es uno de los pocos lujos que se
permite Arturo.
Hasta los pjaros saben que Arturo es esposo de Yolanda Sala-
zar, hija nica de don Epigmenio el que se relaj antes de la gue-
rra mundial nmero dos. (Este relajo es estrictamente mdico; el
otro, el moral, lo ha tenido desde que respira.) Arturo es aliado de
su suegro contra doa Candelaria Mungua de Salazar. El Arturo
tal vez ignora que el doctor Nicola Machiavelli haya existido pero
ha intuido que la fuerza est en la alianza.
La alianza es de rigor porque doa Candelaria es muy dspo-
ta. Arturo, no obstante, va a lo suyo y andando. Con Yolanda no
hay mitotes, Arturo le lleva el pulso.
Entre la gente en el parque Leones est Manzur Chajn, dulce-
ro libanes aunque la gente le llama el rabe. Chajn vive en el
barrio y est casado con chicana (Catarina de Len). A los dos
meses de casados sta ya saba hacer esos dulces redondos color
colorado con cacahuates; la cosa, es verdad, no tiene mayor gracia
pero algo es algo. Chajn, como cualquier hijo de su pas, pronun-
cia la p como si fuera b y cuando habla de don Manuel dice que es
tan buen bolicia que no necesita bistola. Chajn no vende dulces en
el parque; se lo deja a los chicos que para eso es el patrn.
Arturo fue a hacer la chi y ya est de vuelta. Mientras tanto,
Skinny se ha chiflado en forma exagerada: van ocho entradas y
todava no ha permitido hit (ni a su madre, ni a doa Estela, etc.).
Vamosay, 30-30! Vamosay!
Arturo.
Qu?
No, nada. Descuida . . .
All viene don Manuel Guzmn: l no entiende mucho de la
pelota aunque reconoce que no cualquiera puede meterse en ese
juego serio. Hace un calorn (estamos en agosto) pero don
Manuel, como siempre, va de camisa blanca con ligas en las man-
gas y de corbata negra. Y, tambin como siempre, lleva ese reloj
suizo con leontina de oro, artculos que le tocaron como parte de
la herencia de don Vctor Pelez.
Arturo!
S, don Manuel, diga.
Yolanda se acaba de ir. Dice que la recojas en que tu suegra.
S, seor, gracias.
Arturo Leyva est ms a gusto. Ama a Yolanda, s, y ni se le
ocurrira echarse querida quite Ud.! pero la pelota es la pelo-
ta y qu caray! no todos los das son domingo. El Skinny no
ha permitido hit y vamos a la dcima entrada: lo malo es que el
Sox de Flora tiene dos hermanos negros como batera: el Mann
Moore de pitcher y su hermano Clyde, de catcher; para que ms se
descomponga el asunto, el 30-30 de Klail es lo que los conocidos
llaman good field, no hit.
Arturo, aunque tenedor de libros, es resistente: esta noche, des-
pus del partido, llevara a Yolanda al baile en la calle Hidalgo y,
luego, ms tarde, al catre, porque adems de resistente es cumplidor.
Me parece que ya se dijo que le lleva el pulso a la Yolanda.
203
LOS LEGUIZAMN
Los primeros Leguizamn llegaron a Belken County en 1865,
despus de atole, como quien dice, y se asentaron en lo que son
ahora Bascom y parte de Flora. Ms tarde se extendieron al norte,
hacia Ruffing, y al oeste, hacia Jonesville on-the-River. En un tiem-
po concertaron casamientos con los Calvillo, los Surs y los Cela-
ya pero no se firmaron contratos ni nada.
Los casamientos se disolvieron por esas cosas que pasan. Vino
otra generacin de Leguizamn y stos fueron los que acapararon
la tierra mencionada; otra generacin perdi parte y todava otra se
concentr en retenerla hasta el presente.
Los primeros Leguizamn supieron defenderse solos a puro
pulso contra la bolillada que vino al Valle con la Biblia en una
mano y el garrote en la otra.
Cinco salieron de la presente generacin todos hijos de Cle-
mente Leguizamn que muri en Freitas ayudando a los rinches en
contra de los Vilches y los Malacara. Clemente enviud dos veces:
primero de Carmelita Hennington, que segn la raza, era cuartero-
na todo puede ser; y, en segunda viudez, con Diamantina Lerdo;
los cinco Leguizamn, pues, son Leguizamn-Lerdo. Diamantina
muri bien loca; la mordi un perro rabioso, despus de misa,
durante aquella cancula feroz de 1904, ao en el que no llovi un
slo da en el condado de Belken. (Ese mismo ao, siete carretas
repletas de gente, rosarios y provisin, salieron de Klail City y
Edgerton rumbo a San Juan de los Lagos, Jalisco, a rezarle a la Vir-
gen para que lloviera en Belken. En este viaje naci Julin Buen-
rostro, hermano menor de Jess, El Quieto.)
Los Hennington desaparecieron como vinieron, sin aviso; hay
gente que cree que se fueron a Veracruz. Los Lerdo vinieron al
Valle con los Buenrostro cuando don Jos de Escandn encandil
a medio mundo en Quertaro; la sangre de los Lerdo sali rala, ni
un duro arriba de los 50 aos. (Esa raza no daba para ms. El cruce
con los Leguizamn ayud al apellido Lerdo pero no fue gran
cosa.)
Los Leguizamn-Lerdo, o Leguizamn, a secas, fueron cinco,
como se ha dicho: 1) Csar que muri a los 45 en 1927, balaceado
por los rinches mismos que tanto haba ayudado cuando los zafa-
rranchos de 1901-1903; los de 1906-1907; y el ltimo de 1923; 2)
Alejandro, mujeriego y jugador pero nada cobarde, que tambin se
ali con la bolillada y as logr ser recompensado con esas tierras
cerca de Ruffing. A Alejandro se lo encontraron agonizando un
domingo en la madrugada en el patio de la iglesia del Sagrado
Corazn de Jess; le haban sumido los sesos con una esptula; 3)
Antonia que se cas con uno de los Blanchard ricos y cuyos hijos
salieron bolillos; 4) Javier y Martn, gemelos, que se apoderaron
de las tierras en Edgerton. Martn muri quemado en alcohol;
Javier es el nico de los hombres que vive y ya no es tan joven
como l se cree aunque se pinte el pelo.
A Javier, de joven, don Manuel Guzmn, tambin joven, le
rompi las narices por metiche y encimoso; fue una tarde de doma
de caballos en el rancho de los Tuero. En esos tiempos Javier
Leguizamn perteneca al bando de la raza que se granjeaba con
los bolillos. Tuvo buenos resultados, recibi bastante tierra en la
punta oeste del condado.
Se cas con Angelita Villalobos, hija de don Domingo Villalo-
bos que consigui hacer las paces en el Valle tanto por su valenta
como por su talento. Don Domingo fue el que le puso el apodo de
Chinga Quedito a su yerno; se ve que ni en pintura lo quera ver.
Andando el tiempo, Javier tambin acapar varias tiendas de
ropas y abarrotes y, en una de ellas, trabaj Jeh Malacara de
chico-para-todo: dependiente, cartero, mensajero, barrendero . . .
Adems de tierras, Javier acapar queridas. Entre ellas, a Viola
Barragn, recin viuda y cuando estaba como tren, y a la Gela
Maldonado que le exprimi sus buenos pesos y, de paso, instal su
propia tienda. Claro; ya saba el negocio por dentro y por fuera.
Esta unin Leguizamn-Maldonado duro cosa de doce aos.
The Valley 205
La historia de los Leguizamn viejos quiz interese ms pero
este no es el lugar de ellos. De los cinco que hablamos slo que-
dan dos, Antonia y Javier. Como en todas familias, hay un poco de
todo. Estos dos ni se ven ni se hablan. Creo que la Antonia no quie-
re acordarse de su sangre chicana pero eso le ocurre a muchos y
qu le vamos a hacer. Javier no es chicano tampoco, es Leguiza-
mn y los Leguizamn, bien es sabido, no tuvieron madre; fueron
hijos de ta.
206
BETO CASTAEDA
Muerto en su casa en 169 South Hidalgo, en Klail City, con-
dado de Belken, Beto Castaeda, esposo de Marta Cordero de Cas-
taeda, a la edad de treinta aos. Hombre trabajador, recibi esca-
sa escuela formal pero lleg a conocer la tierra y sus productos
como un catedrtico debe conocer su materia si es que se precie.
Los padres de Beto murieron en aquel accidente en Flora cuan-
do un tren de carga mat a unas veinte personas, entre ellos los
padres de Beto. (En menos de una semana, los Ayala haban escri-
to un corrido que cobr mucha fama entre la raza. La imprenta
Acosta lo imprimi y el maestro Barrientos le puso msica. El
disco se grab por guila Records en Corpus Christi.) La familia,
Beto incluso, iba a la yerba cuando al troque se le apag el motor
en medio de los rieles y entonces result la matanza.
A Beto lo recogieron los Meja y a los siete aos asisti al First
Ward, la escuela de la raza, porque el difunto don Albino Cordero
les dijo a los Meja que educaran al muchacho. Como se sabe,
andando el tiempo, y muchos aos despus, Beto se cas con
Marta, hija nica de don Albino.
A los quince aos Beto Castaeda ya haba hecho no menos de
seis viajes al norte: uno con Vctor Jara, El Pirul, que se port mal
y medio rob a la gente quedndose con buena parte del dinero que
la Skinner Produce Company haba dado como adelanto. El dine-
ro se mandaba a un banco en San Antonio, el troquero lo reciba y
deba repartirlo a la gente dando tanto y tanto por cabeza. El Piru-
l reparti el dinero, s, pero no todo, ni cmo deba: que no se
vayan a creer que el resto se lo volvi a la Skinner Produce.
Beto hizo dos viajes con Sabas Balderas; uno a la cherry en
Benton Harbor y St. Joseph, Mich.; el segundo lo realiz a Traver-
se City, tambin en Michigan y tambin a la cherry. Tres viaj en
los troques de Cant Hnos., el ltimo como asistente de chofer: ya
manejaba un poco y como hablaba ingls allanaba el camino en la
ruta Klail City-Texarkana Poplar Bluff-Kankakee-New Buffalo,
Michigan.
Serio sin ser orgulloso ni reservado, muri de cncer a los
treinta aos de edad. Con l muri el ltimo testigo de lo que real-
mente pas en el Aqu Me Quedo har ya un par de aos. La fami-
lia del muerto, los Tamez, nunca lo molestaron a l por lo ocurri-
do; Balde Cordero, su cuado, sigue alzado en Sugarland y, ahora,
con la muerte de Beto, se quedan Marta y doa Mercedes Corde-
ro solas.
No recuerdo que alguien le haya ganado a empacar cualquier
tipo de la verdura que llaman gruesa y pesada (brcol, betabel,
esprrago, espinaca, lechuga, pepino); una vez, cuando tendra
unos diecinueve aos, en competencia con Chale Villaln, que
contara con veinticuatro, Beto le dio caja y media de ventaja en el
empaque y corte de lechuga. Al fin de cuatro horas, Beto empat
y sali ganando con tres cuartos de caja. Por su parte, Beto conta-
ba que el mejor empacador de tomate era su cuado, Balde Cor-
dero. Puede ser. Dicen que el viejo Zeplveda era de lo mejor pero
no vala la cuenta porque le entraba a la grifa y as cualquiera.
En todo el Valle slo hubo dos hombres que le ganaron a hacer
pulso, el primero fue Ismael Contreras, que jams le perdi a
nadie, y el segundo, Chago Lerma, de Ruffing, que pulsaba tan
bien con la derecha como con la izquierda.
Se le despidi en el cementerio catlico mexicano en Klail y
los Vega estuvieron encargados del entierro. El orador fue don
Rosendo Estapa, el que trabaja con la ciudad.
Beto Castaeda, 1941-1971, amigo cabal, q.e.p.d.
208
COYOTES
se les llama a esos que se dejan ver en la sede del condado, el
county court house, como quien dice. No son empleados aunque lo
parezcan: se visten de camisa blanca y corbata o, si son mujeres,
de zapato con tacn alto y de media larga. Afanan en los pasillos
diariamente y viven de lo que le suelten al pobre que se asome en
la corte con algn negocio. Tampoco son abogados pero como
hablan ingls, claro es, ya tienen ventaja. Estn al tanto de cual-
quier runrn en la corte y como desconocen la vergenza, se ponen
las botas con cada inocente que les caiga. La gente que no sabe
nada de nada se asusta de cualquier sobre con sello oficial y por
eso es ganado bastante fcil para los coyotes.
Adrin Peralta, coyote, es de Edgerton y viaja de all a Klail de
diario. Trigueo, sombrero de petate a la moda, camisa blanca y
corbata con ganchito de donde salta un pez vela, sonrisa en la boca
que no en los ojos, bigote fif, con ese par de ojos mencionados
que si no han visto todo poco les falta. Como tiene la piel curtida
ya no le entran ni indirectas ni insultos. Tiene buena representa-
cin y mejor voz ya que hasta la fecha nadie le ha rompido las nari-
ces. Es muy democrtico, segn l, y all se le puede ver saludan-
do a todo mundo, altos y bajos, hembras y machos, jueces y reos,
putas y queridos, etc.
En qu puedo servirle?
Psss, ver ust, aqu traigo este papel . . . me cay por correo
y como dice Court House . . . aqu estoy, ya ve.
Adrin Peralta, un servidor. Su gracia?
Marcial de Anda, seor. (Don Marcial debe tener unos 70 aos:
es dulcero de profesin. Tiene cuatro hijos: Juan, Emerardo, Mar-
cial hijo, y Jovita, la que se tuvo que casar con Joaqun Tamez. De
esto ya hace tiempo.)
Me permite?
S, seor.
Primero, un mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm largo, reservado
y lleno de misterio. Luego una mirada a don Marcial y, al momen-
to, otra al papel. Le toma el sobre, introduce la carta en l, lleva a
don Marcial del codo y se presenta en una oficina. Nada. Luego a
otra donde tambin pregunta por tal y tal; no, no est aqu. Gracias.
Entran a la tercera y aqu es donde te quiero ver, pichn.
Amigo de Anda, voy a arreglarle este asunto en un dos por tres.
Hablando de un dos por tres, me puede pasar un par de dlares
para hacer andar la maquinaria? Ya sabe que sin grasa no se puede
caminar.
Coge el dinero, le vuelve el sobre y antes de despedirse le sea-
la una ventanita. All mero, dice, pregunte por Miss Espinoza, una
muchacha bien peinada. Como es raza y no tiene pena de serlo,
Miss Espinoza sonre a don Marcial y le saluda en espaol. Es la
oficina del County Tax Assessor y a don Marcial le han nombrado
para el jurado; no, no tiene que presentarse ahora; no, que no se
reunirn hasta el fin de ao; no, no me debe nada que aqu estamos
para servirlo . . . Miss Espinoza le advierte que no ande dando su
dinero a los coyotes.
Como don Marcial no tiene que pagar nada se siente feliz
tanto que ni se acuerda ya de los dos billetes que le sac el coyo-
te; ni por pienso que vaya a seguir el consejo de la muchacha. Don
Marcial vuelve a su casa en paz, hasta la prxima.
Peralta ahora est tomando caf en el coffee lounge. Est de
pie, por si acaso. Como ya hizo la cruz con don Marcial se siente
a gusto y est listo para caerle encima a otro inocente que venga a
la corte con ese susidio de la raza tan conocido.
Buenos das, seora. Adrin Peralta, un servidor, para ayudar-
le en lo que se pueda . . .
210
BURNIAS
Mucha gente no lo cree, pero la suerte, as como el tiempo y la
memoria, viene y va. Hay unos que la tienen buena, otros que les cae
mala y hay otros todava que se aduean de una suerte infinitamen-
te ms negra que la sombra del caneln. Melitn Burnias, a todas
luces, es uno de estos ltimos. Como Melitn no corta figura trgi-
ca, la gente, claro es, lo toma a choteo. Burnias vive como puede y
sin tratar de molestar; lo que pasa es que vive en Flora y esa gente
mitotera no le deja a usted ni el resuello. A veces, a Burnias se le
ponen las cosas color de hormiga, como cuando lo echaron de la
casa su hija Tila y el yerno, Prxedis Cervera. (Este Burnias, en otra
ocasin, fue el socio de Bruno Cano en la busca de tesoro.)
Tambin de Flora es Martn Lalanda, comerciante, rentero, ex-
socio de la barbera El Rizo de Oro y dueo de un camin que usa
para llevar o, segn, traer grava. Es uno de esos troques marca
International que en el Valle llaman chatos.
Lo que sigue, pues, ocurri hace unos ocho aos:
Lalanda emple a Burnias hacindole un favor para que
manejara el camin de grava, pero cuando el de la compaa de
seguros se dio cuenta que era Burnias el chofer, se fue corriendo a
ver a Lalanda y le avis: o quita usted a Burnias como chofer o le
retiramos el seguro. (Ni para que negarlo, Burnias tena cuenta
abierta y corriente con el departamento de seguridad pblica.)
Lalanda no tuvo ms remedio; no es un mal hombre aunque s algo
tacao y agarrado con su dinero (Don Vctor Pelez, hombre ocu-
rrente, le puso el apodo El Can de Bachimba porque nunca
disparaba).
As que destituyeron a Burnias, pareci que el cielo se le vena
encima otra vez. Lalanda bien saba que Burnias no tena dnde
parar y le dijo que poda vivir en la cabaa del camin. As es que
la mquina andaba para arriba y abajo todo el santo da y, de
noche, serva de casa y techo para Burnias.
Ocurre que un buen da, el viejo Chandler, de Relmpago, nece-
sitaba una manita en las tierras y Burnias se fue all. El trabajo era
corto (tres das) pero jodedor (16 horas diarias) y as fue que empe-
z en un viernes muy temprano y acab en un domingo bastante
tarde. Al cumplir con el trabajo, el viejo Chandler arregl sus cuen-
tas con el jornalero y le pag, pero no con dinero sino en especie:
le pag con un marrano. Un cuino de color entre zaino y colorado.
Haint got the money, Burnias. All I gots the pig; you take
him.
De perdido, lo que aparezca. Se vinieron Burnias y su marra-
no a la cabaa del International y all le arregl, lo mejor que pudo,
un chiquero de vigas de ferrocarril. El marrano, tan manso que
pareca perro capado, se ech a roncar como un angelito de Dios.
A la madrugada vinieron el chofer y Lalanda; ste vio a la pareja
y despert al que hablaba.
La cosa se explic fcilmente y entonces fue cuando Burnias
le pidi dos dlares a Lalanda: los necesito para comprar maz. Le
doy de comer el maz, lo engordo en unos cuantos das, lo relleno
con un poco de agua y lo revendo. Oyendo esto ltimo Lalanda
afloj la lana y Burnias empez a hacer lo suyo.
Dicho y hecho: el zaino empez a verse bien y a los diez das
ya se vea redondito por su dieta de maz y toda el agua que resis-
tiera. Lalanda se qued de una pieza y crey ver un talento latente
en Melitn Burnias que hasta all ni haba sospechado. Lleg el
jueves y entre los dos subieron al cochino al troque de grava y se
dirigieron a la venta de animales en Klail City.
Al llegar, metieron al marrano en el bao desinfectante y as,
limpiecito por fuera, se lo presentaron al veterinario federal, un
jovel l, flaco, con lentes cafs y pecas del mismo color, y de saco
blanco que le daba a las rodillas. Le abri la boca al marrano, le
vio la lengua, anduvo alrededor y se agach: le toc el pene
haciendo que el marrano se meara dentro de un frasquito que con-
tena un lquido color verde claro. Rode de nuevo al animal y, a
cada paso, batiendo el frasco con el lquido y las aguas menores
del zaino. Seran dos minutos o algo as cuando el lquido se puso
de un verde oscuro y all fue donde el veterinario le avis a Bur-
nias que sorry, sir, but this pigs sick. Cant sell him.
Pero pos why?
Pigs got worms in his kidney; a disease called Stephanarus
dentatus. Know what I mean? Best thing to do is to kill him and
bury him. Cant sell him.
Burnias vi a Lalanda y ste a aquel y, sin media palabra,
subieron su carga al camin otra vez y vmonos de aqu que no nos
quieren.
Te digo, Melitn, t siempre andas tan de malas que hasta los
perros te mean.
S, y no digo perros; hasta los marranos.
Lalanda, sin malicia, se ri y Burnias, resignado, tambin.
Pusieron la mquina en marcha y los dos, sin hablar y entre ciga-
rro y cigarro, se quedaron con la vista al frente cosa de media hora.
Por fin, Lalanda rompi fuego:
Mira, Melitn, vamos a Relmpago y se lo vendemos al viejo
Chandler.
Pero, seor Lalanda, si yo consegu el marrano del viejo
Chandler mismo.
Por eso: vamos y tratamos de vendrselo; l no lo comprar
qu lo va a comprar! y entonces se lo regalamos, entiendes?
S, se lo regalamos. Tampoco lo va a querer regalado no le vaya
a contaminar los otros, verdad? Bueno, nosotros nos hacemos
pendejos y le decimos que si no nos lo compra que est bien, que
se lo regalamos y bajamos al zaino y lo llevamos al chiquero.
Poooos, la verdad que no entiendo.
Es fcil: un regalo no se rechaza y ste, menos, porque si lo
rechaza tenemos que preguntarle por qu y qu cara va a poner?
As es que tiene que comprarlo. Ya comprado y siendo su propie-
dad puede hacer de l lo que le d su chingada gana.
Ust cree?
Por esta cruz (dedo pulgar horizontal; dedo ndice vertical).
c c c
En efecto, el viejo Chandler se vi acorralado y solt los vein-
tisiete del alma que le pidieron; Lalanda cogi los dos que le haba
prestado a Burnias, y otro por la gasolina. Esa noche, Burnias
cogi un pedo de falda afuera y de bragueta abierta en la cantina
de Germn Salinas. Como no estorbaba, all se estuvo hasta que
cerraron.
No lleg a la cabaa del camin: se fue a dormir al campo de
sanda. All, al da siguiente, despertara con una cruda como una
casa, pero tendra su medicina a la mano: el jugo dulce y refres-
cante de sanda serenada.
c c c
Mucha gente no entiende eso de la suerte y quiz ser por eso
que viva de greas y uas, patadas y zancadillas. La gente es muy
ansiosa y quiere que la suerte, para ellos, siempre sea buena. No
puede ser, gentes, no sean abusadores! Quiz la suerte sea ms
bien como una mujer: hay veces que no tiene ganas y hay veces
que s y el elegido (cranlo) ni cuenta se da.
Una vida de Rafa
Buenrostro
En junio de 1944, Chano Ortega, un muchacho de Klail City,
muri durante la invasin de Francia. Su madre, Tina Ruiz, viuda
de Ortega, hasta la fecha, no sabe qu andaba haciendo su hijo en
las Europas.
Lo que sigue es para l y para unos muy contados.
En la escuela americana, en el primer ao, Miss Moy se lava-
ba las manos con alcohol y usaba mucho Kleenex. Tena el pelo
colorado y una cara llena de pecas. No s cmo le hizo, pero a m
me ense a leer en ingls.
Un da se le ocurri a Miss Bunn preguntarle a Lucy Ramrez
que qu se haba desayunado esa maana. La muy mentiretas dijo
que haba tomado un vaso de orange juice y dos scrambled eggs
con toast y jelly. Thank you, Lucy. Cuando le pregunt lo mismo
al difunto Leo Pumarejo, el cabrn de Leo le dijo la verdad: one
tortilla de harina WITH PLENTY OF PEANUT BUTTER!
A Hilario Borrego le di una trompada y sangr. Leo y yo nos
habamos apoderado de la resbaladera durante el recess y no dej-
bamos que subiera nadie que no fuera del barrio. Hilario viva en
el Rebaje y por eso nos peleamos. Cuando a su mam le avisaron
que le haba sacado sangre, la vieja cabrona vino y me cachete.
Yo tena siete aos y no pude aguantar, llor un chingo. Pero no me
raj. De all en adelante yo me las amanaba con Hilario y Leo me
avisaba si vena la vieja o no.
Cuando vino el de la compaa a cortarle el agua a los Ponce
porque no tenan conqu, toda la vecindad vino a ver de qu se tra-
taba. El de la compaa, con su sonrisita, le solt dos o tres pala-
bras en espaol machacado a doa Trini. sta, que no hablaba
ingls, le dijo al bolillo que se fuera a hacer grgaras de cagada.
En Flora la vida no vale nada y la raza un punto menos: Cuan-
do el estado de Texas hizo un juicio a Van Meers, despus de cinco
aos de haber matado a Mora a balazos, y en plena calle, los testi-
gos del estado atestiguaron a favor de Van Meers y en contra del
muerto.
Una vez, en Edgerton, mi pap le dio tres tiros a uno que se le
vino navaja en mano. Pap me dijo que no le dijera nada a mam
cuando volviramos a casa y as fue. Despus empec a tartamu-
dear y me puse muy enfermo. No san hasta que la ta Panchita,
con sus rezos y un huevo, me cur de susto.
Cada noche, cuando le ayudbamos al rabe a meter ms de 200
bushels de frutas y verduras en la tienda, el muy hijo de su chingada
madre nos pagaba dndonos manzanas y duraznos podridos. Y uno,
de pendejo, no se quejaba.
Se muri Tacha, una seora muy vieja que viva en el callejn.
Fui con mi primo a verla all tendida y l fue el que me mostr los
pedazos de algodn que le haban puesto en la nariz y en los odos.
Olan a alcohol. Mi primo, hacindose el galln, entr en el cuar-
to donde estaba Tacha tendida y le toc un brazo. Luego, con un
centavo, hizo la seal de la cruz y me dijo que ese centavo era de
la buena suerte.
A Pioquinto Reyes lo enterraron en el cementerio mexicano de
Bascom. No s por qu acompa yo a pap al entierro y lo poco
que me acuerdo era que quiz hiciera demasiado fro para el mes
de octubre. Despus del entierro pap me llev a una casa donde
vivan unos primos mos que yo no conoca; me dieron carne
asada, tortillas de harina y caf de rancho; lo sirvieron sin leche y
con Karo Syrup en vez de azcar. Unas seoras que estaban all de
visita me tocaban los ojos con la palma de las manos para que no
me hicieran ojo. Yo no crea en el mal de ojo pero desde que me
haban curado de susto yo ya no saba qu pensar. . .
Una vez volvamos mi primo y yo de la escuela cuando un
borracho nos tir un costal de harina de 24 libras. Ms tarde nos
dijeron que adems de borracho tambin iba grifo. Me asust, s,
pero no tanto como cuando me top con el hijo de un vecino que
estaba loco. Yo llevaba una pinta de leche en botella de vidrio y
cuando se me apareci el pobre loco, solt la botella y me puse a
correr tan recio que me pas de mi casa. Por cierto tiempo yo haca
cualquier cosa en casa menos ir por el mandado.
En un restorn de Ruffing no dejaban entrar a la raza, en otro
s. Puede ser que en el primero lo dejaran entrar a uno pero no le
serviran, lo que viene siendo casi lo mismo. En el segundo est-
bamos pap y yo cuando vimos a una familia negra, el seor, la
seora y dos hijitos de la edad ma, sobre poco ms o menos. Pap
dijo que a los negritos noms les servan en la cocina y que, en
otros restoranes, ni en la cocina. No le entend a pap muy bien
aunque me lo dijo dos o tres veces. Cmo hara el negro para que
sus hijos le entendieran?
En Monon, Indiana, en la ruta 421, hay un caf que se llama
Myrtles que est a dos cuadras de una gasolinera Shell. En la
Shell nos parbamos a echarle gas al troque cuando bamos a Ben-
ton Harbor; a la cherry. Cuando parbamos all yo iba con pap a
comprar donas en que Myrtles. Una vez la seora le dijo a pap
que yo ya me estaba haciendo grandecito. En el troque pap me
dijo que ya eran seis veces que yo haca el viaje a Michigan.
Un ao escaso despus que se haba muerto mi pap, recibimos
una esquela que anunciaba la muerte de una seora en Ruffing. Yo
tendra unos trece aos y no saba quin podra ser. Mam no fue
al entierro pero nos exigi a que furamos mis hermanos y yo, para
cumplir, como deca ella. Rumbo a Ruffing, Ismael me explic que
esa seora muerta era media hermana nuestra; una hija que tuvo
pap de otra mujer. Conociendo a mam como la conoca y a pap
como lo conoc, me di cuenta que viva entre extraos. Cuando lle-
gamos, la gente nos salud de mano, dimos los psames y nos die-
ron sillas en la primera fila del velorio.
Pnganle un pedazo de hielo en la frente y as se le para la san-
gre. Bueno; ahora, la cabeza atrs, as; pero con cuidado de que no
se vaya a ahogar. Y t? Qu ests haciendo all, paradote, noms?
No ves cmo est tu hermanito? Bien le deca yo a tu pap que no
te dieran la licencia de manejar; que estabas muy chico. ndale,
vete a casa y all me esperas.
A ver, seoritas, hagan sala aqu vienen unos seores norte-
americanos.
Qu seores, ni qu americanos, ni qu nada; ramos Monche
Rivera y yo. A la puta que a m me toc se le transluca el vestido;
yo tena quince aos y un miedo de la chingada.
Cuando en Corea, todo lo que comamos era de polvo. Cayo
Daz deca que el Army nos daba papas con huevo para el desayu-
no, huevos con papas para la comida y papas a huevo para la cena.
En un Rest y Recuperation en Japn, con Cayo Daz y Balde-
ras, otro buddy del Triple Nickel (555 Field Artillery Bn., Major
Oscar Warren, Commanding) despus de una parranda que empe-
zamos en Tokyo, amanecimos en un tren que iba a Kobe. En el pri-
mer sentn, Cayo se ech catorce Asahi birus, despus: bao, vieja
y verija. Cmo andara yo que para el tercer da me puse a cantar
aquello de llegando al puente me devolv . . .
Muchas familias de Klail, de Flora y de Bascom se conocen
bien; otras, adems, estn emparentadas. A pesar de todo eso,
cuando uno de Klail, pongamos por caso, se va a casar con una de
Flora, siempre mandan una comitiva a que vaya a pedir a la novia.
Entonces los hombres se ponen corbatas y se ponen muy serios.
Los novios se ponen nerviosos; l suda y ella se abanica.
En Relmpago tengo un pariente que le dicen La Caballona.
Flojo y huevn, vive de lo que le dan en casa. Cuando le avisaron
que Paula, su novia, se haba echado con todos los que vivamos
en Relmpago, La Caballona respondi: Y qu? Qu tan gran-
de es Relmpago?
Cuando el menor de los Murillo le dijo a don Vctor Sols que
quera calar a Estefanita antes de casarse con ella, don Vctor le dijo
que su hija no era ninguna sanda. El menor de los Murillo se crea
muy guila y todos, menos l, saban cada vez que su mujer le
pona tamaos cuernos.
Cuando Pancho La Burra se larg con el dinero en el pot del
World Series, la gente deca que as que volviera a Bascom le iban
a dar una santa paliza. A fin de tres meses volvi Pancho, montado
en una bicicleta azul listo para vender nmeros de la rifa. Como
dijo el Argentino: En realidad, uno no sabe qu pensar de la gente.
En Bascom unos siempre andaban con el susidio de no relajar
a la raza: Prtate bien; qu dirn los bolillos? Lo triste del caso es
que a los bolillos les importaba madre lo que uno hiciera. Oh, its
nothing, you know. Just one of them Mexicans having a fight in a
cantina . . . They play one of them rancheras on the jukebox and
then one lets out a squeal . . . first thing you know theys having
theirselves a fight.
Qu bonito, chingao!
Cuando el del banco se dio un tiro todo mundo supo por qu.
La familia, con su buen seguro, vivi bien y se acab. Cuando
Chale Villaln se rob una jersey y un football todo mundo se dio
cuenta; el heroico Board of Education orden al condestable que
lo arrestara para que aprendiera que con la escuela no se jugaba.
Rafa, as que entre Echevarra, no le vendas cerveza.
Anda pedo o qu?
Pedo y terco, ya lo conoces.
Y qu le digo?
A ver si tratas de ver que ya no tome.
Entra Echevarra, pedo.
Quiero una Buddy Watson.
No hay Budweiser.
Y Hamms, no hay Hamms?
Se acabaron.
Hay Lonestor?
No hay Lone Star.
Tienen Yax?
Tampoco.
Y qu tal Flagstaff . . . hay Flag?
Menos.
Qu hay, entonces?
Pura Perla.
Perla? Venga la Perla!
Pero noms en quarts.
Mejor, as no se me acaban tan pronto.
Estn al tiempo.
Qu suerte! As no me pongo ronco.
Un seor que se cansa:
Con una chingada! Vndanle a Echevarra lo que quiera!
El da que Tome Fonseca le peg a Robe Cant en el billar de
Prez con la bola colorada (la nmero tres) la palomilla le cambi
de sobrenombre. Es ms, el apodo estaba en ingls y en menos de
un mes ya responda a Three. A Cant, en verdad, le hicieron un
favor porque es sumamente difcil lucirse cuando a uno le llaman
Cagn.
A veinte!
La tuya!
Zafo!
Una ms arriba de todas las que hables!
Me la pelas!
Sintate!
Me sacas la blanca!
Se hizo demasiado largo el palabreo y, a decir verdad, ninguno
quera pelear. De suerte que alguien no les dijo que mejor se fueran
a dormir juntos porque entonces s se comprometan y tendran
que darse en la madre. Otros, con menos suerte, se han muerto a
consecuencia de lo que diga un mirn.
Enterramos a mam. Es la tercera vez que he llorado. En mi
vida.
El que antes se encarg del Draft Board ahora la hace de Vete-
rans Adviser. La raza pendeja deca que sus patrones lo aprecia-
ban mucho y que por eso tena buen jale. Shit.
Me voy a Austin; a la universidad. A ver qu sale. No voy a
desperdiciar el G.I. Bill como mi hermano Ismael que se cas y se
jodi.
Pueblo nuevo, vida nueva. Veremos.
Also by / Tambin por Rolando Hinojosa
A Voice of My Own: Essays and Stories
Ask a Policeman: A Rafe Buenrostro Mystery
Becky and Her Friends
Dear Rafe / Mi querido Rafa
Klail City
Los amigos de Becky
Partners in Crime: A Rafe Buenrostro Mystery
Rites and Witnesses
The Useless Servants
We Happy Few

The Valley / Estampas Del Valle by Rolando Hinojosa

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The Valley / Estampas Del Valle by Rolando Hinojosa

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Arte Pblico Press

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