Del polvo venimos y al polvo volvemos
Las casas estaban vacías, solo unos cuantos perros famélicos apostados en las aceras, subieron la cabeza, me olfatearon y siguieron con la cabeza gacha, metida entre las patas. Me fui hasta la plaza que estaba en el medio y que dividía en dos las calles de ida y venida para sentarme. Allí esperaría el tiempo que fuera necesario.
Me habían dicho que preguntara por Hortencia Bracho, que ella sabría responder al asunto que me había hecho recorrer tantos kilómetros. Mientras estaba sentado en uno de los pocos bancos de cemento que aún quedaban, vi como un grupo de mujeres venía caminando en mitad del polvo.
_¿Quién la busca y para qué? -dijo y todas la mujeres me vieron.
_Soy Angito, el hijo de Gualberto. Antes de morir, me dijo que buscara aquí a Hortencia que ella sabría quién me parió. -en ese instante vi cómo una sombra atravesaba por los rostros de las mujeres. Entonces una de ellas preguntó:
_¿Así que por fin Gualberto murió? ¡Que Dios le perdone todos sus pecados! -expresó y escupió una saliva que la tierra consumió enteramente. Iba a decir algo, cuando otra de las mujeres apuntó:
_Hortencia murió hace tiempo. Se fue sin verte los ojos, por eso se murió con los de ella abiertos. El sol era fuerte y saqué un pañuelo de mi bolsillo. Lo pasé por mi rostro y una capa de tierra manchó la tela.
_¿Entonces Hortencia murió? -pregunté dudando y mi voz parecía estúpida.
_Es lo que decimos: murió. Gualberto sabía que moriría. Si la dejaba aquí, Hortencia moriría como morimos todas.
_Me gustaría saber dónde está enterrada -me atreví a mencionar.
_Eso nadie lo sabe. Aquí todas morimos sin saber dónde. Solo comenzamos a morir y un día desaparecemos. Usted ve todo ese polvo alrededor de las casas -yo miré el cielo yerto, cenizo, y la nube gris que lo envolvía todo- pues todo eso son vidas que están vagando por todas partes -dijeron y siguieron su camino como si en alguna parte alguien las esperara. Yo me monté en el auto y antes de arrancar vi por el espejo retrovisor: no había ningún alma por ningún lado, solo una polvareda fantasmal que tenía forma de procesión humana.
HASTA UNA PRÓXIMA HISTORIA, AMIGOS
![Click here to read in english]
From dust we came and to dust we shall return
I arrived in town at about 1:00 pm. The streets were deserted and dusty as if a hurricane had blown everything away. I got out of the car to see if I could find anyone inside those few houses that looked like they would collapse with the slightest breeze.The houses were empty, only a few famished dogs posted on the sidewalks, they raised their heads, sniffed me and continued with their heads down, tucked between their legs. I went to the square in the middle that divided the streets in two to sit down. There I would wait for as long as it took.
I had been told to ask for Hortencia Bracho, that she would know how to answer the question that had made me travel so many kilometers. As I sat on one of the few cement benches that still remained, I saw how a group of women came walking in the middle of the dust.
Good morning. I am here to talk to Hortencia Bracho," I asked when the women were close. One of them, the oldest, looked at me and asked with some suspicion:_Who is looking for her and what for? -she said and all the women looked at me.
I am Angito, Gualberto's son. Before he died, he told me to look for Hortencia here, she would know who gave birth to me. -At that moment I saw how a shadow crossed the women's faces. Then one of them asked:_So Gualberto finally died? May God forgive him all his sins! -she said and spat out a spittle that the earth consumed entirely. He was about to say something, when another of the women pointed:
_Hortencia died long ago. She left without seeing your eyes, that's why she died with hers open. The sun was strong and I took a handkerchief out of my pocket. I ran it over my face and a layer of dirt stained the cloth.
So Hortencia died? -I asked doubtfully and my voice sounded stupid.
That's what we say: she died. Gualberto knew she would die. If I left her here, Hortencia would die as we all die.
I looked at them again without knowing what to say and for a time that seemed like an eternity. They were serious, their eyes transmitted an infinite pain, long, dragged for centuries; but also a peace, a feeling that sheltered them and made them eternal and invisible.I would like to know where she is buried," I dared to mention.
Nobody knows that. Here we all die without knowing where. We just start dying and one day we disappear. You see all that dust around the houses," I looked at the barren, ashen sky and the gray cloud that enveloped everything, "all those are lives that are wandering all over the place," they said and went on their way as if somewhere someone was waiting for them. I got into the car and before starting I looked in the rearview mirror: there was not a soul anywhere, just a ghostly dust that looked like a human procession.