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Perhaps
this will not be a mythic experience or an extraordinary deed; it´s not a
contemporary thriller, much less the start of an epic saga such as the ones
that teem everywhere on the shelves of the prestigious inner-city libraries. Sorry to disappoint the reader this time; this
is simply the true story about a life changing experience. I hope, however,
this will be to your satisfaction.
In
June of that year, I was sent to the stiflingly hot town of Tibú, located in
the Department of Norte de Santander in Colombia. Tibú is a popular town among the locals and
among any who follow the sociopolitical news of the region. It had turned into
an evil den of criminals: thousands of slaughters were committed in its streets
and according to urban myth, in the airport hundreds of corpses were stacked,
countless numbers, for the vultures. I remember well my arrival in Tibú,
because this was the date of my birthday and the experiences that happen on
those days are emotionally important –according to what I recently read in a
dynamic psychology article.
When
I reached the town, I participated in a religious event just at the time when the
sun becomes what it is: “The king star”. When the cleric was giving the final
blessing, I was riding in a Jeep Model 75, the same used to transport bags of
coffee in the Coffee Region; the same that gave such good results in the dusty
battles of North Africa during World War II –such vehicles were witnesses to
the Montgomery and Rommel deeds, who for a brief moment allowed us to forget
the ignominy of central Europe-.
The
driver was calm. The route towards Campo Raya, the farthest lane of the town,
was something routine for this man; the beads of sweat running down his face
were tiny and did not trouble his actions at the wheel. Instead, my body seemed
to feel a suffocating evaporation.
When
we were arriving, I perceived a nauseating smell, my humanity cringed and I
felt sick to my stomach. I violently turned my face and saw her, she was there,
an old lady, extremely enigmatic; she knew what I would know in a few moments.
When the driver stopped the vehicle, I stood there for a couple of minutes and
she fixed her eyes on mine. I took a deep breath, filled myself with courage and
put my left foot in the cluster of leaves that were on my left, I usually do
that, since childhood I feel some security when my right leg is free to act.
Because
of a certain air of chivalry, I was led to meet her, but undeterred she saw how
my body sank into the deep ground. It was an electrifying fall, it seemed like
my whole life was consumed by that hole. Neither the driver, nor the lady
rushed to help me; they knew and this was familiar for them. My eyes
immediately protested against the fact, and the tremulous voice of the old lady
was heard: "You have fallen into the pit, where I found the mutilated
remains of my only son."
“Happy are those who know that behind every word,
there is what can not be said”.
Rainer
María Rilke
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