In the darkness of the night, Marlene walks home. From the avenue where the bus dropped her off, she must pass by a place that inspires fear in her.
She knows that there are only the graves of people who have died. And she remembers some words her father used to say to her: "You have to be more afraid of the living than of the dead because they can't do anything to us". Now his body rests there.
The village cemetery is small, and the tombstones are illuminated by a light bulb in one of the corners. The bush has taken up the space between the graves, and some of the walls that line the site have fallen down, leaving it exposed.
Marlene's slim, petite figure hurries down the street until she reaches her house, which is only a few meters away. It is the third house on the right. Opposite is another row of houses, and up the hill is the square with the church. On the hill, you can see the ruins of a fort that hundreds of years ago protected the town from the attacks of pirates coming from the nearby islands.
When she arrives home, her mother, her grandmother and her brother Alejandro are sitting at the dinner table.
"Daughter, you arrived later today, I was already worried".
"Hello mother. It's just that today we had a meeting at work, and I was in a hurry. You know, I don't like to go to the cemetery at night if I'm alone".
"You shouldn't be afraid, daughter", her grandmother told her, our ancestors are there.
"I don't like living so close, they could have built it farther away from the houses".
"It's just that years ago I didn't like living so close, they could have built it further away from the houses".
"It's just that years ago, the cemetery was not in the place where it is now, they had to move it".
"And what happened, grandmother? That story is interesting". Alejandro, who was eating with a great appetite, began to listen.
"Come sit with us, you must be tired and hungry. I am going to serve you food".
"Thank you, mom, the truth is that I am hungry. I'm going to wash my hands".
They are all sitting at the table, attentive to what Grandma is going to tell them. The wind from the sea has become stronger and shakes the white curtains of the window. Its aroma fills the atmosphere with saltpeter and brings the lulling sound of the waves.
About two hundred years ago, according to what my father told me and his mother told him, that is to say, my grandmother, a ship arrived at the port of La Guaira from a Caribbean island. A group of 20 people, including men and women, disembarked and settled down to live near the sea. There they built their houses and dedicated themselves to fishing, like the majority of the inhabitants of the place who helped them.
"And that place is exactly where Grandma is?".
"That place is near what is now the fishing company. That's where you work, Marlene. Let me continue, daughter, and don't interrupt me anymore, my memory sometimes forgets some details".
While the mother pours the coffee, the grandmother continues her narration. Her blind eyes seem to see further back in time, to that past, as if she were living it at this very moment. Her hands touch the hot cup that her daughter has placed in front of her, but she does not drink the coffee, she only smells its aroma and wait for it to cool.
The people who came from the islands established relationships with the villagers, but did not make friends with anyone. They kept a very close group and began to do some activities at night in the cemetery. They would gather there by candlelight. From the village, lights were seen in the cemetery and chants and screams that instilled fear were heard.
"They were probably practicing witchcraft in the cemetery, weren't they, Grandma?"
Grandma made a gesture to her grandson to be quiet and continued the narration.
And things in the village began to change. The fishermen went to the sea and brought back very little fish. Children were getting sick, and crops were being lost to the plants. Dark moths with stinging hairs came to the village and covered the walls and windows of the houses. The people lived in fear and could not go out at night, while the rituals continued.
A group of fishermen decided to confront this situation and expelled the group of people who left the town, but in spite of this, nothing improved, and it was then that they realized that the problem was in the cemetery and that it had to be destroyed. That is what they did, and they built it on a piece of land donated by a monastery.
"But then why were these houses built near the cemetery".
"I already explained to you, daughter, that here are our ancestors. Some of the settlers did not want to continue living in that place and brought their dead to the new cemetery. They decided to live near them to make sure that they would rest in peace and that it would not be used for evil".
Marlene looked through the window to the cemetery, and for the first time, she did not see it with fear but with respect. As her grandmother used to say, there were her ancestors, those who lived near the sea.
"You are right, grandmother, cemeteries should be places of peace. From now on, I won't be afraid to walk near this one, and tomorrow, when I have the day off, I will bring flowers and clean the graves of my father and grandparents".
"And I will accompany you, sister.
En la oscuridad de la noche Marlene camina hacia su casa. Desde la avenida donde la dejo el bus debe pasar al lado de un lugar que le inspira temor.
Ella sabe que allí solo están las tumbas de los que murieron. Y recuerda unas palabras que le decia su padre "Hay que tenerle mas miedo a los vivos que a los muertos porque ya estos no pueden hacernos nada. Ahora su cuerpo reposa allí.
El cementerio del pueblo es pequeño y las lápidas son iluminadas por una bombilla que está en una de las esquinas. El monte ha ocupado el espacio entre las tumbas y algunas de los muros que bordean el lugar se han caido dejándolo al descubierto.
La figura delgada y pequeña de Marlene camina de prisa por la calle hasta llegar a su casa que está solo a unos metros. Es la tercera casa a la derecha. Enfrente hay otra hilera de casas y subiendo esta la plaza con la iglesia. En el cerro se observan las ruinas de un fortín que hace cientos de años protegía el pueblo de los ataques de los piratas que llegaban de las islas cercanas.
Al llegar a casa su madre, su abuela y su hermano Alejandro están sentados a la mesa para cenar.
—Hija llegaste mas tarde hoy ya estaba preocupada
—Hola madre. Es que hoy tuvimos una reunión en el trabajo y venía apurada, sabes que no me gusta pasar de noche por el cementerio si estoy sola.
—No debes tener miedo hija, —le dice su abuela,—allí están nuestros antepasados.
—A mi no me gusta vivir tan cerca, pudieron haberlo construido más alejado de las casas.
—Es que hace años el cementario no estaba en el lugar en que está ahora, tuvieron que mudarlo.
—¿Y que pasó abuela?, ese cuento está interesante.
—Alejandro que comía con mucho apetito, se dispuso a escuchar.
—Ven hija siéntate con nosotros debes estar cansada y con hambre.Voy a servirte la comida.
—Gracias mamá, la verdad es que estoy hambrienta.Voy a lavarme las manos.
Todos están sentados en la mesa atentos a lo que la abuela les va a contar. El viento proveniente del mar se ha hecho más fuerte y agita las cortinas blancas de la ventana, su aroma llena el ambiente de salitre y trae el sonido de las olas.
"Hace unos doscientos años según me conto mi padre y a èl se lo conto su madre, es decir mi abuela, llegó al puerto de la Guaira un barco proveniente de una isla del Caribe. Un grupo de 20 personas entre hombres y mujeres desembarcaron y se instalaron a vivir cerca del mar. Alli hicieron sus casas y se dedicaron a la pesca como la mayoria de los habitantes del lugar quienes los ayudaron".
—¿Y ese lugar por donde queda exactamente abuela?.
—Ese lugar esta cerca de lo que ahora es la compañia pesquera. Allí donde tu trabajas Marlene y no me interrumpas más, mira que mi memoria a veces se olvida de algunos detalles.
Mientras la madre sirve el café la abuela sigue su narración. Sus ojos ciegos parecieran ver más allá en el tiempo, hacia ese pasado, como si lo estuviera viviendo en este preciso instante. sus manos tocan la taza caliente que su hija le ha puesto enfrente de ella pero no toma el café, solo huele su aroma y espera a que este se enfríe.
Las personas que vinieron de las islas establecieron relaciones con los del pueblo pero no hacian amistad con nadie. Mantenían un grupo muy cerrado y comenzaron a realizar algunas actividades de noche en el cementerio. Allí se reunían a la luz de las velas y en el pueblo se escuchaban cánticos y gritos que infundian temor.
Y las cosas en el pueblo comenzaron a cambiar. Los pescadores iban al mar y traían muy poca pesca . Los niños se enfermaban y las cosechas se perdian en las plantas. Unas polillas oscuras cuyos pelos eran urticantes llegaron al pueblo y cubrian las paredes y ventanas de las casas. La gente vivia atemorizada y no podian salir de noche, mientras los rituales continuaban.
*Un grupo de pescadores decidieron enfrentar esta situación y expulsaron al grupo de personas quienes se fueron del pueblo, pero a pesar de esto nada mejoró y fue entonces cuando se dieron cuenta que el problema estaba en el cementerio y que había que destruirlo. Eso hicieron y se construyo este en un terreno donado por un monasterio que había en esta colina.
—¿Pero entonces porque estas casas se construyeron cerca del cementerio?.
—Ya te explique hija que aqui están nuestros antepasados. Algunos de los pobladores no quisieron seguir viviendo en ese lugar y se trajeron a sus muertos al nuevo cementerio y decidieron vivir cerca de ellos para cuidar de que descansarán en paz y de que no se utilizara para hacer el mal.
—Marlene miró a través de la ventana hacia el cementerio y por primera vez no lo vio con miedo sino con respeto. Como decía su abuela allí estaban sus antepasados, los que vivieron cerca del mar.
—Tienes razón abuela los cementerios deben ser lugares de paz. De ahora en adelante no tendré miedo de caminar cerca de este y mañana que tengo el día libre llevare flores y limpiare la tumba de papá y de los abuelos.
—Y yo te acompañare hermana.
