Colext/Macondo
Cantina virtual de los COLombianos en el EXTerior
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-El 15 de febrero de 1966, en Patio Cemento, municipio de San Vicente,
Santander del Sur, muri� Jorge Camilo Torres Restrepo. La autopsia,
practicada por el Dr. Rafael Calder�n V., demostr� una herida causada por
proyectil de arma de fuego de grueso calibre, con orificio de entrada a
nivel del costado izquierdo y con orificio de salida a nivel de la fosa
il�aca derecha. La trayectoria del proyectil, de arriba hacia abajo, de
izquierda a derecha y a trav�s de varias estructuras vitales, document� la
naturaleza mortal del balazo. Otra herida de similar origen penetr� a trav�s
de la cara anterior del hombro izquierdo y sali� por la regi�n escapular
izquierda.
-Este art�culo fue escrito por m� en 1993. Lo hice en ingl�s y lo compart�
solamente con un grupo de amigos colombogringos en 1996. No hay traducci�n
al castellano porque nunca he podido traducir a mi gusto lo que escribo en
otros idiomas. Tambi�n, el art�culo es extenso y confuso. En retrospecto, la
asistencia al teatro fue como una alucinaci�n- pesadilla que dur� varios
d�as con sus noches, y de la cual no me pude zafar sino hasta que me depur�
poni�ndola por escrito.
-Entonces, si les gustan las alucinaciones y no se cansan leyendo en ingl�s,
l�anlo este martes y acu�rdense de Camilo.
PANG
P.S. El art�culo (II) es versi�n MS WORD 87 y lo pueden abrir con confianza,
ya que est� verificado por dos programas antivirus. La fotograf�a (camilo)
es versi�n .jpg. La versi�n que incluyo con este (I) es la versi�n .TXT y no
trae la fotograf�a
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Remembering Camilo Torres
Where: GALA Teatro Hispano, Adams-Morgan, Washington, D.C.
What: "Las Casas: Una Hoguera al Amanecer"
Author: Jaime Salom
Director: Hugo Medrano
The Players
Nelson Landrieu (Fray Bartolome de Las Casas)
Luis Ter�n (Pedro Renter�a/Fray Rodrigo)
Alida Yath-Cruces (Mar�a)
Richard Gaetjens (Fray Antonio de Montesinos)
Hugo Medrano (Pedro de Cordoba)
Yayo Grassi (Conchillos/ Counselor #1)
Jaime Troncoso (Gabriel de Las Casas)
Renato Salazar (Fonseca/Counselor #2)
Beatriz Mayoral (Isabel, the Mother)
Astrid Brinck (Isabel, the daughter)
Jorge G�mez (King Fernando/Emperor Ed Johnson)
Angel Torres (Pedro de Las Casas)
Carlos Ram�rez (Governor)
Ediza Vega (Petrilla)
Mehan Ariani (Guitarrist)
Sarah Wigman (Dancer)
-It is Jaime Salom's turn at GALA nite in Washington, District of Columbia
and the time is only a few minutes and a decade past 1492. Five hundred
years later Hugo Medrano will be/is directing and here I am, Mr. Passive Q.
Spectator, quickly detaching myself from reality.
-Bartolom� (Nelson) de Las Casas (Landrieu) is talking to his father Pedro
(Angel) de Las Casas (Torres). While the Arhuaco Indians, and Pedro Renter�a
and Mar�a's children's are being exterminated, and the Haitians are dying of
hunger and AIDS, he is gradually converting himself into a quasi-repentant
and confused cleric. He looks pointedly at me with sad and non-blinking
eyes. He bites the straight steam of his pipe, the one that was a perennial
companion during his sleepless nights at Louvaine when he was working on his
papers for Moeller and Francois Houtart... He talks about his sister Astrid
and about his brother Fernando. He remembers his mother Isabel (Beatriz)
Restrepo y Gaviria (Mayoral).
-With a jolt I realize that it is not Spanish Bartolom�, but Colombian
Camilo the one who is talking to me... Camilo Torres, respected friend and
mentor, revolutionary priest and martyr. Now he says dreamily that he still
carries his Belgian "Carte d'Etudiant." We switch back and forth from
Spanish to our Primary School German to French. He talks about the Parisian
Abbe Pierre... About the poor people of the world... He talks about class
slavery and about social injustice.
-We had come by trolley bus to the National University from downtown
Bogot�just before going by sea to Seville where we will tell everybody
about the one-sided battle of Caonao--. Now we are walking back from the
School of Medicine, across the School of Law, toward the Sociology building
and then to the Cafeteria where he will be addressing the nonconformists. It
is 1962, we are on strike, and we want him to be the president of our
University. He is smiling and wondering about his future.
-Seemingly seconds later we see myself/ourselves still in Santaf� de Bogot�,
standing by the door of the "Tout va Bien" Bowling Lanes, watching him for
the last time, slowly walking down 72nd Street toward 8th Avenue. Very
bright, idealistic and possessed, forceful in his convictions and in his
writing, he is walking steadily to an early death, and he knows it.
-He also knows that I will negate him three times, that I will stay, that I
will leave him alone, and that I will not see his flaming soul gloriously
bursting out through opening bullet holes at the time of his Calvarian
immolation at Patio Cemento. Jesus Christ Superstar is getting ready to die
for the two thousandth and one time.
-And me? I am just Mr. Passive Anonymous Spectator, back in the theater,
slowly regaining control of my surrounding universe. Rubby is watching me,
wondering if everything is all right with me. She is my sweet better half
and she knows me well.
-Now she looks at rebel Fray Antonio (Richard) de Montesinos (Gaetjens)
being blessed by his Dominican Order superior, Fray Pedro (Hugo) de C�rdoba
(Medrano). We already know that Landrieu will be absolved by Gaetjens de
Montesinos either fifty or five hundred years later under Luis Ter�n's (Fray
Rodrigo's) eyes. We/they also know that not much has changed in these raped
and pilfered territories, still in the hands of Emperor Fernando Johnson &
Co., Kings of the World.
-Chaplain Camilo de Las Casas is begging Yayo (Conchillos/Counselor #1/Chief
of Staff) Grassi to permit him to speak to wonderful Ed Johnson about the
iniquities committed in his name by his uncle Gabriel (Jaime) de Las Casas
(Troncoso) and Associates in the New World. The King of Spain will instead
listen to Yayo/Chief of Staff and to Renato (Fonseca/Counselor #2) Salazar�
Yayo is the one with blue eyes behind dark glasses, earring on left earlobe,
and blonde hair combed tight in a ponytail "a la Seagal."
-Listen to the Counselors: "What Fray Bartolom� Torres says is against free
enterprise, against social order, against the established institutions! We
do not have a name for that yet, but we will find one later! Kill him! He is
just trying to destroy your Kingdom! Throw him out and have him terminated
by Carlos Governor Ram�rez in the name of God!" Pay attention to the
distilled wisdom of your Chiefs of Staff!
-Flash! Everybody has resuscitated; everybody has come forward to the
proscenium. We have applauded and cheered enthusiastically. Suddenly we are
outside the theater, ready to go back home. I am holding my breath while I
check the Mercedes Benz all around. I exhale contentedly when I realize that
no window is broken, and that the radio is still in place. I feel vaguely
ashamed when I realize that my worry exists only because many of Ediza's
(Petrilla's) children, and others, are in the neighborhood in large numbers.
-It is nice to leave Adams-Morgan downtown to go back to the security and
peace of Maryland suburbia. It is still raining but Rubby is driving and we
get home safely. Now we are going to have a nice cup of aromatic Colombian
coffee and a generous slice of Bellini's Italian panettone. I remember,
however, when I had to chase rats and had to chew my belt, piece by piece,
during our second sea trip back from Spain.
-Lost in my thoughts, I kind of hear somebody saying Oohh! over and over. It
is Saturday Night's Dana Carvey saying Oohh! and Oohh! over and over again.
I turn to watch the small TV set at the other end of the kitchen breakfast
counter just in time to see poor Viktor Somebody skating and falling,
skating and falling. Now he comes over for a close-up and says something
like "Hi, my name is Johnny Hildo and this is Saturday Night Live!
-Then we see myself/ourselves going up the stairs toward our bedroom. I am
still holding with our right hand the green military hat with the "eggs
scrambled" all over the visor. On my left shoulder I carry the personae of
the seventeen actors and actresses now to be added to my collection. My
progress is very slow and I feel like being nailed hard into the wooden
staircase by the heavy weight of the two silver eagles on my epaulettes.
-My right shoulder is hurting badly. The eagle has fixed his claws right
through the subcapsularis muscle and into the spinal process of my/his right
scapula, the same one already fractured so many centuries ago under the
heavy weight of the cross. A huge hematoma is forming, and Doppelgaenger,
the cat, watches me mockingly from the bathroom mirror, while I see my life
slowly fading away.
-I open the closet door and start hanging the seventeen personae by strict
alphabetical order, almost next to those of the six Spanish Jesuits that
were so efficiently neutralized for disrupting social order in poor Mar�a's
(Petrilla's) land. I try not to look at the other end of the closet where He
is hanging from the cross. The smell of watered vinegar, and sweat, and
blood, and death, is overpowering.
-I know He is looking pointedly at me with sad and non-blinking eyes. I/they
know that his blood is still pouring from broken skin under his crown of
thorns. We can feel it dripping down my/his face and neck, spattering the
immaculate collar of our/their light green shirt. We go back to the bathroom
and surprise Doppelgaenger watching him watching me watching him in the
mirror of our/his inquiring eyes.
-Maybe it is time to move away, back to Kfar Nahum and to my rotten fishing
boat at Lake Kenneret... then later, maybe, to Templarian Akko... and even
later to Judyn where I/we will die again�seven hundred years ago�at the
hands of the Mamelukes.
-Maybe this is the right time to change our names again and go visit
Renter�a's children for the next seven hundred years... Maybe I should (twin
fliegende Hollaender�every seven years around the Horn Cape of my
unrepentant soul--) start looking nonstop, in errantry again, for J.C.
Superstar, and for Fray Bartolom� de Las Casas, and for Chaplain Jorge
Camilo Torres y Restrepo wherever we are.
-On the other hand, maybe I should just go back downstairs to the nice and
comfortable kitchen of our nice and comfortable home. Go back to finish my
panettone, swallowing it down with a comforting tall glass of Root Beer.
Back to watch the end of Saturday Night Live...
-My name, anyway, is illustrious Doctor Pedro Passive Public and I/we are
real mighty proud but shameful to have a summa cum laude professional degree
from the International School of Social Indifference.
PANG, 15 Febrero de 1996
(Copyright)
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+ PANG <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> San Antonio, Texas, Gringolandia +
+ P.S. Si quieren escribirme directamente, quiten ALGO de mi direcci�n ;O)=
+
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+ PANG <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> San Antonio, Texas, +
+ P.S. When replying, please remove SOME from my e-mail address (anti-SPAM)
+
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