En la época de la dictadura de Marcos Pérez Jiménez, en Venezuela, los carnavales representaba una gran festividad, en esos cuatro días en las ciudades realizaban templetes, bailes privados en clubes, hoteles, a los cuales las personas acudían disfrazadas, siendo el más popular el de las negritas, atuendo preferido por aquellas damas que querían desinhibirse y celebrar sin ser reconocidas. Este relato está inspirado en esas negritas que salían para hacer catarsis, divertirse y permitirse todo tipo de excesos.
Los Bianchi se retiraron antes de finalizar el desfile de carrozas, debían prepararse para el baile que se realizaría en el club ítalo-venezolano, aunque su esposa Cristina no quería ir con su marido, pues este era un soso aburrido, no le gustaba bailar, no haría otra cosa más que hablar sobre política y de negocios con sus amigos, además no le permitía bailar con desconocidos, lo que significaba pasarse horas sentada fastidiada junto con las otras esposas que se resignaban a obedecer a sus maridos.
Mientras se dirigían a casa, Cristina comenzó a quejarse por un malestar en la cabeza, anunció que se recostaría un rato para ver si se le pasaba la molestia, aseguro que podría ser producto del exceso de sol al que estuvo expuesta, a Franchesco le pareció buena idea y se fue a comer un pedazo de lasaña.
Al quedar sola en su cuarto, Cristina telefoneó a su amiga Betty, y le dijo: Betty vente ya, que todo va según lo planeado, colgó el aparato y se acostó, quería descansar, pues esa noche ella la pasaría muy bien con su amiga.
Media hora después, Franchesco, con cara de enojo, le abriría la puerta a Betty, sabía que llegarían tarde a la fiesta, pues cuando esas dos mujeres se juntaban no había nada ni nadie que la esperara.
Hola, Betty pasa, le dijo secamente, Franchesco ya llamó a Cristina, está acostada, no se encuentra bien.
En seguida, se oyeron los pasos de Cristina, saludando con una voz lastimera Hola amiga que bueno que llegas, no me siento nada bien.
Cristina, recuerda que los Rossi llegarán dentro de una hora para ir al club, y creo que es hora de arreglarnos, manifestó su esposo con voz autoritaria.
¡Ay, Franchesco!, realmente no sé si podré ir, pues el dolor de cabeza no se me ha quitado.
Sí, es así, me iré alistando, pues se hace tarde, respondió su esposo, con tono enojado.
Apenas, Francesco se retiró, las amigas corrieron a la cocina, a esconder las cosas que Betty había llevado, tenían que evitar a toda costa que este las viera, por otra parte, debían que esperar a que se fuera para llevar a cabo su plan.
A las nueve de la noche, el marido, partió para la fiesta, de inmediato, las mujeres arrancaron a disfraces, por último se cubrieron su rostro con betún negro, sería unas negritas más en los carnavales de Caracas.
Ahora nos iremos al círculo militar, dijo Betty
No, nos vamos para el Club Italo, ¿de qué otra manera podría saber cuando mi esposo abandone la fiesta?
Apenas llegaron a la fiesta, fueron invitadas a bailar, en la pista de baile había ciento de negritas como ellas danzando al ritmo del paso doble, Cristina se movió por la pista para ubicar a su marido, como se figuraba, estaba conversando con sus amigos acerca de los mismos temas.
Al culminar la pieza de baile, Cristina se acercó hasta su esposo para ver si la reconocía, le pidió que bailaran, Francesco con su cara muy seria se negó, este intento de seducción lo molesto, detestaba que las mujeres que usaran aquellos disfraces de negritas para conquistar a los hombres y hacer sus fechorías.
Cristina no paró de bailar, a menudo veía de reojo a su marido, a fin de comprobar que seguía ahí, mientras tanto, él interpretó esas miradas como un coqueteo.
Las negritas eran la sensación de la noche, no cabía duda de ello, la mayoría de los hombres querían bailar con una de estas, con el fin de descubrir quien era la dama que estaba detrás de aquella pintura.
Gracias a la insistencia de Betty, pudieron salir justo antes de que Francesco se fuera.
Cristina voló para quitarse el disfraz, entró en baño y comenzó fregando las zonas de su cuerpo cubiertas con el betún, el cual no salió tan fácilmente como se imaginaba, su piel le ardía, pues se frotaba insistentemente, deseaba quitar la mezcla pegajosa, hasta que decidió dejarse esas pequeñas manchas ya le preguntaría a su amiga como hacerlo desaparecer, y se fue a dormir.
Al otro día, Cristina vio su foto en la portada del periódico, tuvo miedo de ser reconocida por su marido, más este solo comentó lo indignado que se sintió por la coquetería incesante que tuvo una negrita en la fiesta.
At the time of the dictatorship of Marcos Pérez Jiménez, in Venezuela, the carnivals represented a great festivity, in those four days in the cities they made templetes, private dances in clubs, and hotels, to which people went in disguise, being the most popular one of the negritas, attire preferred by those ladies who wanted to be uninhibited and celebrate without being recognized. This story is inspired by those negritas who went out to have catharsis, have fun and indulge in all kinds of excesses.
The Bianchi's left before the end of the parade of floats, they had to get ready for the dance to be held at the Italian-Venezuelan club, although his wife Cristina did not want to go with her husband because he was boring, he did not like dancing, he would do nothing but talk about politics and business with his friends, besides he did not allow her to dance with strangers, which meant spending hours sitting annoyed along with the other wives who were resigned to obey their husbands.
While they were on their way home, Cristina began to complain about a headache, she announced that she would lie down for a while to see if the discomfort would go away, she assured her that it could be the result of the excess of sun she had been exposed to, Franchesco thought it was a good idea and went to eat a piece of lasagna.
When Cristina was left alone in her room, she called her friend Betty and told her: "Betty, come on, everything is going as planned," she hung up the phone and went to bed, she wanted to rest, because that night she would have a great time with her friend.
Half an hour later, Franchesco, with an angry face, would open the door for Betty, he knew they would be late for the party because when those two women got together nothing and no one was waiting for her.
Hello, Betty, come in, she said dryly, Franchesco already called Cristina, she is lying down, she is not feeling well.
Soon, Cristina's footsteps were heard, greeting me with a pitiful voice Hello friend, I'm glad you're here, I don't feel well at all.
"Cristina, remember that the Rossi will be arriving in an hour to go to the club, and I think it's time to get ready," said her husband in an authoritative voice.
"Oh, Franchesco, I don't know if I'll be able to go, as the headache hasn't gone away."
"Yes, that's right, I'll get ready, it's getting late," replied her husband, with an angry tone.
As soon as Francesco left, the friends ran to the kitchen to hide the things that Betty had taken with her, they had to avoid it at all costs that he saw them, on the other hand, they had to wait for him to leave to carry out their plan.
At nine o'clock at night, the husband left for the party, and immediately, the women started to disguise themselves, finally, they covered their faces with black shoe polish, they would be one more negritas in the carnivals of Caracas.
"Now we will go to the military circle," said Betty.
"No, we are leaving for Club Italo, how else would I know when my husband leaves the party?"
As soon as they arrived at the party, they were invited to dance, on the dance floor there were hundreds of black girls like them dancing to the rhythm of the paso doble, Cristina moved around the dance floor to find her husband, as she imagined, he was talking with his friends about the same topics.
At the end of the dance, Cristina approached her husband to see if he recognized her, she asked him to dance, Francesco with a very serious face refused, this attempt of seduction annoyed him, he hated women who used those black disguises to conquer men and do their misdeeds.
Cristina did not stop dancing, she often looked sideways at her husband, to check that he was still there, meanwhile, he interpreted those glances as a flirtation.
The black girls were the sensation of the night, there was no doubt about it, most of the men wanted to dance with one of them, to find out who was the lady behind that painting.
Thanks to Betty's insistence, they were able to leave just before Francesco left.
Cristina flew to take off her costume, went into the bathroom, and started scrubbing the areas of her body covered with the bitumen, which did not come off as easily as she imagined, her skin burned, as she rubbed insistently, and she wanted to remove the sticky mixture until she decided to leave those little stains, she would ask her friend how to make it disappear, and went to sleep.
The next day, Cristina saw her picture on the front page of the newspaper, she was afraid of being recognized by her husband, but he only commented on how outraged he was by the incessant flirting of a black girl at the party.