"When you people walk me to the tomb I don't want anybody crying. All I want you to give me is a band singing my favorite songs while closing your memory with only good blood."
There are three things every
wise man knows: when he has found true love; when he must defend himself; and
when his body is ready to die. For El Viejo, the awareness that his life was
coming to an end presented itself only two days before a doctor in Guatemala
City pulled a white sheet over his head and pronounced him dead. But El Viejo told nobody, not even
Roberto, who was with him at the time of this awareness. You see, El Viejo was
drinking a cold Gallo beer
that sunny and hot afternoon with his friend Roberto. As he sipped his beer, El
Viejo could not taste the flavor of the beer, and he could not determine
whether the beer was warm or cold. His senses of taste and touch were fading,
and El Viejo knew his death was close. But he didn't want to trouble his
friend, Roberto with this knowledge. So, El Viejo took notice of the small
droplets of moisture on the can of beer. He took another sip and looked out at
the peaceful ocean, noticing a school of thousands of small fish creating a
large bubbling shadow on the surface of the blue ocean.
"This
beer is cold, Roberto,” he said. “
I like a cold beer on such a beautiful day. Look, even the fish are happy
today. They are all dancing on the water’s surface.”
As
he said this, he felt the fingers of his right hand loose all sensation, and he
dropped the can of beer into a foamy, sandy mess. He wanted to bend over to
retrieve the beer, but he couldn't. He didn't feel well at all. His head became
very, very hot and he felt like he wanted to vomit.
"What's
wrong with you?" Roberto asked. "You do not look well. Have you been
to the doctor yet?"
El
Viejo didn't answer, continuing to stare at the shadows, churning on the ocean.
The familiar and ever-changing drama of Hawaii’s coast brought calm throughout
his body.
"No,"
El Viejo thought. "I have not gone to a doctor, but I am drinking beer
with my young friend, Roberto; my old friend and my best friend; the friend who
has let me live in house for more than 18 years."
Roberto’s
house was a green concrete dwelling with a palm thatched roof. There were no
lights inside the house because there was no electricity. Electric lines had
been installed throughout Hawaii less than seven years ago, but Roberto never
wanted the burden of receiving a monthly electric bill. As for water, Roberto
used a well that tapped into the underground aquifer. A gasoline-powered motor
pumped the water up from the subterranean river and delivered the water to a
tank that was positioned above the house.
Gravity pushed the water throughout the house allowing Roberto to have a
flushing toilet, running water and a working shower.
Roberto
inherited the house from his father when Roberto decided to marry Rosa, a local
girl. He was 19 and she was 20. But after only three years, Rosa left Roberto
for an American living in Antigua, taking with her their joint possessions and
their two-year-old daughter, Angelina. The only thing he remembered about
Angelina was her eyes large and black, and so similar to his. After Rosa left
with Angelina, Roberto remained alone in the empty house, broken in spirit,
with a new craving for drink. He would devour bottles of "La Indita",
a strong, nearly pure, clear alcohol that was made from the local red plant
"Rosa de Jamaica." Roberto made just enough money fishing the shores of
Hawaii to sustain his need for drink. That was Roberto's life for more than 20
years. Then one day as he stumbled drunk along the empty and windy beach, he
saw El Viejo sitting in the shade of an old, dilapidated and abandoned rancho.
A
rancho is a palm-thatched roof supported by four or more vertical mangrove wood
posts. The original ranchos were used as houses for the poor families of
fishermen that first inhabited the Guatemalan beaches. Many of these ancient
and nearly collapsed ranchos still exist along the beach and are used to shade
fishermen from the blazing tropical sun as they repair their fishing nets or
wait for the tide to change. Rancho’s along the Guatemalan coastline are as
common as coconut trees and mango groves.
El
Viejo lived under the rancho, and made his living weaving fishing nets that
were considered the best in the area. El Viejo saw Roberto walking drunk down
the beach, and beckoned him to sit with under the rancho with him. Together on
that hot, windy afternoon under the rancho, they shared a bottle of La Indita.
As they drank from the bottle with its colorful cartoon label of a pretty Mayan
woman harvesting the red plant, Roberto watched El Viejo meticulously weaving
fishing nets. After that day, Roberto would join El Viejo for a bottle of La
Indita while observing the craft of making fishing nets. Before long, the
strong liquor of the Jaimaica plant was replaced by cold beer, and without
uttering a word of reprimand or condemnation, El Viejo had stopped Roberto from
being a drunk, and showed him how to make fishing nets.
The
two became close, combining the relationships of a father and son; uncle and
nephew; brother and brother. But most of all their relationship was that of a
friend and friend. Through the months and years, El Viejo learned about
Roberto's life and the pain he experienced by losing the only daughter he had.
El Viejo would always attempt to make Roberto call his daughter, but he never
saw Roberto call, and really never even knew if Roberto placed a single call.
After two years together working under the rancho, Roberto asked El Viejo to come live with him in the
house his father gave him; in the house that his wife and daughter
abandoned. El Viejo accepted the
offer, and moved into the best room of the house. It was a perfect, compatible
relationship that was bound by mutual respect, quiet understanding and
non-confrontational conversation.
El
Viejo heard Roberto ask again, " Have you been to a doctor yet, Old
Man?"
El
Viejo looked into the black eyes of Roberto and asked, "Have tried to call
Angelina this week?"
It
was a style of conversation the two had developed and perfected over the years.
When one didn't want to answer a question or address a topic of discussion,
they would simple change the subject. It was a graceful way they created
harmony between themselves, without losing respect.
However
this day, El Viejo insisted on pushing the subject.
"I
asked you have you called your daughter? You need to try and tell your daughter
you love her as much as possible, my friend Roberto. Family is the most
important thing in this life. This thing I know as well as anything I know in
this world," said El Viejo.
"You
talk stupid, Old Man. How do you know something of which you are ignorant? You
don't have any family, and you haven't had any family for more than 25
years," said Roberto.
"Yes,"
El Viejo said. "But just because I have never been bitten by the sharp
teeth of a caiman in the canal doesn't mean I don't know how painful it could
be. At my age, I have seen much more than I have personally experienced, and I
tell you now, family is the most important thing in the world. Promise me,
Roberto, you will try and call Angelina today," said El Viejo.
Roberto
employed the conversational strategy of non-responsiveness the two developed
and shared.
"Have
you been to a doctor?" Roberto asked.
Again,
El Viejo continued to stare at the ocean ignoring not only Roberto's question,
but also the signs of death within his body. He liked watching the ocean, he
thought. He liked watching the schools of moving fish and the jumping manta
rays because it reminded him of when he was a young boy. He remembered walking
along the beach with Oscar, who was now 81 - almost as old as El Viejo.
Together he and Oscar would run along the beach with their fishing nets, trying
to anticipate the paths of the moving fish in the breaking surf. On good days,
he and Oscar could hurl their lead weighted nets in a perfect parachute shaped
circle, trapping more than 50 small fish that they would later sell as bait. As
he watched the shimmering blue ocean with Roberto, El Viejo remembered one day
in February, many, many years ago when he and Oscar first saw Lucia. She was 16
and already she was the most beautiful girl in Aldea Hawaii. Both he and Oscar
immediately fell in love with Lucia. For more than one week, the two competed
for her attention in the only way they knew, by seeing who could catch the most
fish. After all, which ever of them could catch the most fish would earn the
most money to buy pretty things for Lucia. It was a simple yet direct way to
win the heart of any girl. One day, El Viejo recalled, during this competition
for Lucia's heart, he and Oscar's net became entangled together and they began
to fight over whose net rightly owned the large school of fish trapped in the
nets. The two began the fight with small, short, strong pushes.
"You
have your net tangled in my net. You did that on purpose!" said Oscar.
"Me!?",
retorted El Viejo. "You threw your net on top of mine!"
The
two began to wrestle on the black sand beach. At first, Oscar gained the
advantage by managing to hold El Viejo's head down against the beach as the
waves rolled over the two. The white ocean foam covered El Viejo's face,
preventing him from breathing and threatening him with being drowned. The fear
that swept over El Viejo's body was instantly converted to strength beyond
anything he had experienced before, and he found that he was able to push the
much larger and heavier body of Oscar off the top of him, giving El Viejo the advantage
on top of Oscar. Oscar was able to roll his body under El Viejo's so that
Oscar's face was now facing the sand. If you were watching the two, it was like
El Viejo was riding the back of Oscar. El Viejo felt anger and rage, and he
pushed Oscar's face into the black sand until Oscar's nose and mouth were
filled with sand, preventing him from breathing.
"Stop!
Please stop!" Oscar pleaded with a mouth full of sand. "I give up.
You win!"
El
Viejo let Oscar up and saw his friend's face as black as a moonless night on
the beach. The only things that were not black were the whites of Oscar's eyes.
"OK,
Oscar," El Viejo commanded. "But you have to promise me you will
leave Lucia alone, so that I can take her for my wife."
"Yes,
I agree. Lucia is yours; the fish in the nets are yours; and you can even take
my net as a symbol of total victory. Happy?"
The
war was settled between El Viejo
and Oscar was settled, but neither of them had realized that Lucia had been
watching the whole thing from one of the small alley ways that opened up to the
beach. When Lucia saw how El Viejo had humiliated and embarrassed Oscar by
pushing his face into the sand, she ran down to the beach and pushed El Viejo
away angrily then throwing her arms around Oscar lovingly. She then scooped up
a hand full of ocean water and cleaned Oscar's face. Together, Lucia and Oscar
walked away together, leaving El Viejo alone with his fish and the two nets. It
was one of those lifelong lessons, El Viejo never forgot.
El
Viejo continued to stare at the ocean with Roberto, and smiled. Oscar and and
Lucia had been married for more than 50 years and had seven sons. He laughed to
himself as he thought about how stupid young men can be when it comes to
understanding women. By losing a fight, Oscar was able to win the heart of
Lucia. It was El Viejo's first lesson in understanding that strength seldom
surpasses sympathy.
El
Viejo looked at Roberto who was looking back at him. It was one of the few
times either one of them could remember being eye-locked without the other
quickly breaking the stare by looking away. As El Viejo stared into the black,
shiny eyes of Roberto, he could see his own reflection in Roberto's eyes.
"I
visited my friend Oscar yesterday, Roberto. He and I walked to the center of
town and visited our old friends in the cemetery. I told Oscar I wanted to be
buried in the center of the cemetery," said El Viejo.
As
he said this, El Viejo's face grew as pale as an old piece of driftwood on the
beach, and he fell unconscious from his char, landing at the feet of Roberto.
The
next three hours were more frantic than anything Roberto had experienced.
First, he had to run to a neighbor's house to borrow a car; then he had to run
to three more neighbors’ houses to borrow enough money to buy gas for the car.
Finally, he had to drive El Viejo into Guatemala City -more than 180
kilometers- to the hospital. Roberto waited outside the examining room of the
hospital and examined his cracked and dirty nails of his feet; he studied the
tan lines of his feet under the straps of his sandals. He didn't know what to
feel, and so he felt numb.
"Senior?"
Roberto heard a voice say. "I am doctor Prado. Pedro Prado. I have very
little to say to you except that if I were you I would prepare for your friend's
funeral."
Two
hours later, Dr. Pedro Prado pronounced El Viejo dead.
Now,
Roberto sat in a small office of a hospital administrator. The office was neat
and organized, with a wastebasket containing a discarded paper cup of coffee
from earlier that morning. On the wall behind the desk was a poster that had
hundreds of small hearts and proclaimed the only thing in this world that
really counts is God. On the desk of the administrator were a small pile of
thin files and a cup of freshly sharpened pencils. A small picture frame faced the empty chair of the
administrator. Roberto quickly grabbed the frame and turned it toward him to
see the picture. It was a photo of a young couple with two children - a boy
about 8 and a girl roughly two years younger. The man looked happy and neat and
the woman was dressed in a flowered blouse with her hair pulled back.
"What
a nice family," Roberto thought as he replaced the picture frame back to
its original position.
As
he placed the photo back on the desk, a young man walked into the room. He had
a thin file in his hand. He shook Roberto's hand and sat behind the desk. The
young man had a simple haircut that was cut above his ears and brushed to one
side. His black hair shined with gel. He wore a pair of thin-wired glasses that
looked like something an accountant would wear. The young man wore a grey suit
with a white shirt and simple tie. On the lapel of the suit, Roberto noticed
the young man wore a pin in the shape of a cross.
"Well,
senior, I am Senior Martinez, the hospital administrator. I am very sorry for
your loss. Did you know the old man well?" Mr. Martinez asked?
Roberto
responded, "For most of my life, and for the past 18 years he lived with
me."
Mr.
Martinez looked pleased, and said "Very good. Now in order for us to
release the old man, we must first have some kind of identification. The only
credential he had was an ancient residence card that cracked, faded and torn
into 28 pieces." Mr. Martinez shook his head sadly, and added, "That
is simply not enough. No, it will not do. Can you please produce something else
to prove the old man is in fact who you say he is?"
Roberto
shook his head no.
"No.
I don't think he had identification. I didn't even know he had the torn
residence card."
"Well,
what about a family relative that could produce evidence of the old man's
identity? Something official you understand."
Again
Roberto shook his head no and added," he hasn't any family. I am the only
one he has and I am his only friend."
The
hospital administrator looked confused and frustrated at the same time.
"Well
did he have a bank account?"
This
time, Roberto looked pleased and quickly responded "Oh yes! He had a bank
account!"
"Fine.
Then we can simply have someone from the bank produce some kind of evidence of
identification."
Roberto's
face quickly changed from happy to embarrassed. "But he never had to
produce evidence of who he was at the bank either. People just knew him as 'El
Viejo' and he could deposit or withdraw money because everyone in the bank knew
who he was. I know this too because one day I overheard the bank manager say
one day 'we must set up some proper paperwork for El Viejo one day.' But it
never happened," said Roberto.
Roberto
eventually had to drive to the Hall of Records - more than 60 kilometers from
the hospital in order to obtain a copy of El Viejo's birth certificate. He was
pleased when he was able to obtain the document just minutes before the office
closed for the weekend. Roberto drove back to the hospital to find Mr. Martinez
as we was leaving the office. A Bible was under his arm. Unfortunately, Mr.
Martinez looked at the document and said, "I am sorry. But this document
does not have the stamp of the Director from the Hall of Records, and it needs
to be notarized. Have a good weekend," and left the office, turning the
light out as he left. Roberto stood in the dark, and realized that the only
thing to do was to wait in the hospital over the weekend and then return to
Hall of Records on Monday in order to obtain the necessary stamps. In the dim
light of the office, he looked at the administrator's photo on his desk and
said "your wife is ugly and your kids look like iguanas."
As
Roberto waited to return to the Hall of Records, news of El Viejo's death and
dilemma spread throughout the small town of Hawaii, Guatemala. Plans for a
memorial and funeral were discussed, but the real focus of conversation became
when will the body of El Viejo return?
"They
haven't released the body yet," one person would say to another in one of
the small tiendas.
If
you passed a neighbor in the street, instead of exchanging news of the family
or fishing successes from the morning, people would now say, "Has the body
come back, yet?"
In
the morning, little kids would wake up and instead of asking for breakfast,
they would want to know if there was any news of El Viejo's body.
"Has
the body come back yet, mommy?" they would ask with large, innocent and
demanding eyes.
"No
mio. The body as not come back yet," the mother would answer while shaking
her head in sadness.
It
took five days for the body of El Viejo to return to his lifelong home in the
small fishing village of Hawaii, Guatemala. The delay resulted from the
wrestling match between a complicated bureaucratic government system and a
simple, uncomplicated life that valued personal relationships more than
paperwork. Both lifestyles are so common in Guatemala, and yet are in direct
opposition of each other. Whomever is caught in-between these opposing forces
is paralyzed, unable to move or fight the powerful undertow of immobility that
invariably is created. Roberto understood this, and simply considered the
dilemma as if he were fighting the smashing waves of the beach with a small
launcha. The only way to punch through the pounding waves is to patiently wait
until there is a small lull in the ocean, and then that is the point of
penetration. Roberto patiently waited and returned on Monday afternoon with the
body of El Viejo.
When
Roberto returned to Hawaii with the body of El Viejo, he found than more than
30 people were waiting for him. The body was removed from the truck Roberto
had borrowed, and for the next 24
hours, the men drank and sang and told stories of El Viejo. The women cried
while they played "Con Quien", El Viejo's favorite card game. In the
morning, following the small wake, the group of 30 people made a procession and
walked down the main street of Hawaii. Six of El Viejo's oldest friends acted
as pall bearers and lifted a
large, black casket on their shoulders. As they began to leave the home of
Roberto, a truck pulled up with six men in the back. The men had musical
instruments and began to assemble themselves to play while El Viejo's body was
carried down the street. On top of El Viejo's casket, were two of the three
final fishing nets El Viejo had made before he passed away.
One
of the people in the crowd asked, "who paid for the band?" Nobody
knew. It was a mystery, but like so many problems in life, the solution was
more important than the equation. It didn't matter who paid for the band, but
it was nice to hear the music behind the proceeding body of El Viejo. Women
cried and men wiped secret tears from their faces as the band played, "Cuando al pantion ya me lleven no
quiero llanto de nadio. Solo quiero que me lleven con una banda tocanda y el
luto llevenlo dentro tenido con buena sangre." Roughly translated, this means
"When you people walk me to the tomb I don't want anybody crying. All I
want you to give me is a band singing my favorite songs while closing your
memory with only good blood."
It
was roughly five kilometers down the main street, to the old cemetery in the
center of Hawaii. As the group progressed down the street, the sky above seemed
to change with the rhythm of the marching band. The sky turned from a brilliant
blue to a fuzzy grey with white, wispy thin clouds moving from the volcanoes in
the east to the tranquil ocean in the west. Then the clouds moved together with
synchronicity like couples on a dance floor, and they glided gracefully to form
a group of dramatic dark grey static clouds on top of brilliant white moving
clouds. The sun disappeared behind the heavenly skies, and small drops of rain
began to fall. The light rain and eclipsed sun provided relief from the hot
beach climate, and comforted the growing crowd that was walking behind the
casket of El Viejo. As the group progressed toward the center of town, one or
two men would move forward, tapping one of the pallbearers on the shoulders
before taking their place under the weight of the casket. At one point, a group
of women simultaneously replaced the group of men, taking the casket from the
men without losing a beat. After five minutes of walking with the heavy weight
of the casket, the men relieved the women, and continued to move toward the
cemetery. The clouds moved from light rain into a soft umbrella, still
protecting the mourners from the sun, but removing the falling rain. All the
time, the band continued to play. As the group walked passed Oscar's house, the
men carrying the casket made an abrupt left turn, and walked into Oscar's
house. Once inside, they placed the casket in front of Oscar and Lucia, who
were sitting on a couch crying. Roberto took one of the fishing nets from the
top of El Viejo's casket and handed it to Oscar.
"I
thought El Viejo would like to visit you both one more time," and handed
the fishing net to Oscar. It was not a net made for fish, but rather it was a
shrimp net and so it took much longer to make, and required much more patience
and skill than when making a fishing net. Roberto handed Oscar the fishing net
and said, "Our friend, El Viejo was making this for you before he died. I
asked him why he was making you a fishing net, but he only said that only Oscar
would understand."
Oscar
took the net and immediately knew the meaning of the net. It was to the replace
the net El Viejo had taken from him when the two fought as young men and lost
the heart of Lucia.
The
men picked up the casket again, and walked out of Oscar's house. Oscar jumped
up, put the fishing net in the lap of Lucia, and took the place of one of the
men carrying the casket. As the procession continued down the main street, they
passed in front of Tienda Fabiola, El Viejo's favorite tienda. Roberto
motioned one of the men to replace him under the casket, and then Roberto ran
into the store to buy a cold beer. He drank the beer with the memory of El
Viejo in his heart and a desire to quench his thirst. He no longer had the need
to drink in order to get drunk. When Roberto finished the beer, he ran out of
the store and rejoined the group, who had now made its way to the cemetery.
The
cemetery was located directly in the center of town, immediately next the
street, and adjacent to a large patch of sand that was used as a volleyball
court and beach soccer field. The cemetery contained approximately 75 old white
crosses, and large light blue and white concrete boxes that held the bodies of
Hawaii residents. On some of these boxes, flowers were arranged. In the center
of the cemetery was a small hill that had been formed by the blowing wind, and
on top of the hill was an unpainted, open concrete box. The entire town of
Hawaii had created the concrete box, with each family contributing either a
concrete block or a small piece of concrete. Together, they formed the finally
resting place for El Viejo. The procession had now grown to more than 150
people, and now they all gathered around the empty concrete box. The casket was
placed inside. There was a moment of silence that was intended for public
remembrances of El Viejo. But nobody stepped forward to speak. There was a
noticeable feeling of awkwardness as the timid and silent crowd continued to
stare at the casket that was now placed in the concrete box. Somebody touched
Roberto's shoulder and encouraged him to say something about his friend. He
shook his dead, and pointed to his eyes as evidence that he could not speak
because he was too sad. It was at this moment when a woman, who nobody
recognized stood on top of a chair, and began to speak. A small rumble went
through the crowd.
"Who
is she?" someone would ask.
"Have
you ever seen her before?" Another person would continue.
"I
heard he had a young girlfriend," A more informed person shared with the
promise of secrecy.
"I
think I have seen them together on the beach," Another person would
confirm.
But
when the woman began to speak, silence replaced the hum of speculation in the
group. The woman was no more than 30, and while small in stature, she had
possessed a stature that made her appear taller than she was. She had beautiful
black hair that was worn down, and she wore a sparkling black dress and
delicate crochet shawl that covered her shoulders and matched a thin black veil
that covered her face.
"I want everyone her to
know that this old man, was more of a father to me than anyone else in my whole
life," the strange woman yelled to the crowd over the roaring ocean.
"For 18 years, this old
man has called me every month to ask about me and my family. When I needed
food, the next day a bag of food mysteriously appeared on my door; when I
needed help with a car, a mechanic would be at my house the next morning; but
most of all when I needed a person to talk to and hear my mind, he was always
there. And so, when I look at this beautiful man that is now with God, I feel sad. Not because he has passed
on to the other and better world, but I am sad because this old man had to lie
in a hospital morgue for more than five days before they would release him.
Nobody should have to endure that, whether in life or in death...especially not
this man," the woman continued in a loud, confident voice.
Roberto watched the woman,
and watched the entire town captivated by the woman. He was amazed not only how
commanding the woman was, but also more by how many people had come to see El
Viejo's body be buried in the cemetery. He thought how wrong he had been that
El Viejo was alone. In fact, he felt even more amazed to understand that these
were not just his friends, but his family. He then remembered the final words
of advice his friend had given him before he died: "Family is the most
important thing in this world..."
The woman continued,
"This old man was stuck in the morgue because he didn't have proper
paperwork. Now I tell each and every person here today. Go home and make sure
your grandfather, grandmother, mother, father, who ever, has there paperwork in
order so that this tragedy does not happen again here in Hawaii. The next thing
I want everyone to know is that family is the most important thing in this
world, and so go home today and tell those people you call family that you love
them. Tell them that you are with them and that nothing can escape the net of
the family. God bless you old man. I love you and you will always be with me."
The woman climbed down from
the chair and silently walked away from the crowd toward the ocean. As she
walked toward the beach, she turned around and lifted her vail from her face.
From afar, she stared directly into the black eyes of Roberto, eyes that were
exactly the same shape and size and character as his. She lifted her veil
completely off her head, while carefully and silently mouthing the words
"I love you dad," to Roberto.
###
These Aldeas and these people are intertwined and are
blurred together through blood, marriage, religion, or money so that it is
never really known which is more important, the Aldea or the person.
