3. 3. Un ángel en un semáforo

II - 3. The return of the swallows

    The month of April passed with more than a scare, but in the town, busy with the tasks proper to spring, people did not worry about politics anymore. On the 16th, we went down half of the town to the train stop, because we had been told that half of the provisional government was coming to the Barcelona express at five in the afternoon, which had been exiled in Paris after the dictatorship. I think they were Indalecio Prieto, Marcelino Domingo, Martínez Barrio and Martínez de Aragón, whom fate would bring back to our land during the Civil War. 

    They were, therefore, outstanding people who had suffered persecution for their republican ideas and deserved public recognition. So armed with tricolor flags made of paper stuck in reeds, we went down in procession along the path of the Henares River on a bright and almost summery afternoon. We sang sanjuaneras because it was the only thing we knew how to sing in unison and nobody knew anything about republican songs. It made half of the procession up of ragged children, for whom there was no other occupation than to throw stones at the dogs and help, when the case came, in the tasks of the field. 

    At five the train did not appear. Six o'clock struck and the train still did not appear through the curve of the tunnel leading to Torralba. So they paid many tributes to them along how the driver was more than once forced to stop the train so as not to run over the staff. 

    Somewhat heartbroken and disappointed, with half the flags torn or peeled off, we were already determined to return to town when the whistle of the locomotive was heard as usual as we passed the road junction at the exit of the tunnel. The children became rowdy, and the Tejero had to be used thoroughly so that the scoundrel remained attached to the railing at the end of the platform.

    "In order and glued to the railing, that the train does not stop and the slipstream can absorb you!" When the train appears, shake the flags well and, all together, shout "Long live the Republic!", Let it be heard even in Madrid!

    The train passed and the children screamed shouting their "Viva la República" without order or concert, but they should not have even learned of our presence, because it passed quickly leaving a trail of steam and carbon, which over one child had to spit out so as not to choke on. The train carried two enormous Republican flags on the locomotive that were waving violently and were already somewhat frayed. The children were somewhat confused and disappointed, as they expected a gift from such important people, but the always imposing vision of a steam train compensated them, also decked out with tricolor flags.

    —Okay, each one to his tasks we have already fulfilled our duty as outstanding citizens! The "Tejero" lectured them, with his permanent political sense of existence.

    But the month of April brought new and important news to our people. As promised, Don Manuel resigned from the mayor's office for refusing to swear allegiance to the new Republic, and it passed to the opposition candidate, at the head of a management commission, until, once the new Constitution was promulgated, they were held again. New municipal elections. So by the end of the month the Tiler already "don Genaro Martínez", and people stopped nicknamed him the "Tejero" because he reduced the importance and solemnity that a mayor should have, even if he were from a miserable town in six hundred inhabitants. On the day of the swearing in, the new mayor gave a speech to the more than one hundred countrymen who filled the hall of the City Hall, which gave us an idea of ​​what the new spirit of the young Republic was like.

    —Bread and culture! The first thing is education: not an illiterate or illiterate in this town; their own countrymen will rebuke and shame Neither a child without school nor a patient without a doctor or an old man without care. Because the people do not belong to anyone, but to everyone, and we are all responsible for what happens in the town.

    So much righteous judgment in a simple pottery officer surprised his own and strangers. Even the monarchists agreed and congratulated themselves on such good intentions. "That is what Don Mariano lacked, the will to take care of the children and the old men, who cannot be all day after the hares or doing mischief." "The Genaro does not start badly, but let's see where he will get the bitches for so many wonders!" "To me, the Socialists are not as bad as the Communists. Let's see if everything that the priest has put in our heads about these reds and atheists will be a lie ».

    On May 1, the "Tejero" called the people of the town to a "Labor Party", where there would be speeches and dancing. Salaried workers in the town there were few, at most about twenty laborers, members of large families who could not occupy themselves with the tillage of their own lands and did whatever arose and knew how to do, which was not much and they were not very skilled In nothing. But the "Tejero" had a deep sense of history and did not want to pass that solemn date without complementing it properly. In addition, they planned it to lay the "first stone" of the works of the new "Casa del Pueblo". In fact, it was about rehabilitating, with a new whitewash, windows, doors and a good coat of paint on the facade, an old house abandoned after the death of its last owner and without known heirs, so they expropriated it for public use. The monarchists protested and threatened to denounce the case before the Guadalajara courts, but because of laziness or disinterest they soon forgot about the issue and allowed the remodeling works to continue. The tavern keeper also protested, because they had told him that in the Casa del Pueblo they would give the flat wine for five cents, when he sold it for ten, and that, in addition, they would serve fruit-flavored soft drinks to that the children did not make wine at such an early age. But neither did the blood reach the river.

    A social center was planned on the ground floor, with a small platform as a stage, where it was planned to offer theater sessions, such as those offered in the other Casa del Pueblo de Sigüenza, and if the budget came, bring Occasionally a cinematographer, but they had the problem of electric light. However, it was also bringing it, laying a line from the "Salto Pepita", a small power plant on the banks of the Henares, even to illuminate the town square, the Town Hall and the brand-new Casa del Pueblo, and if the priest agreed to give his blessing to the new house, also for the church.

    On the second floor, an adult school would be installed, a consultation that would have a doctor once a week, and a small room for a social worker who would come from time to time to advise on retirement, land disputes with the State or landowners, and make them aware of the new rights, minimum wage, payment for days of harvest, etc., but without forgetting to also read their obligations.

    But the most surprising thing was that Inés, barely an illiterate a few months before, took over the school, where she was supposed to teach anyone who wanted to read and write. He had progressed a lot since he started going to school, and above all his pleasant mood and disposition was the best claim for other girls of the same age to be encouraged to attend his evening classes. I found myself in the humiliating dilemma of deciding whether to go to his classes, knowing that he would have no mercy on my ignorance and would treat me even worse than what I usually did, and in the presence of others. But he could not let that opportunity pass and that unexpected teaching position also meant for Inés a radical change in his character. She became more leisurely, patient, and even maternal. She talked to the kids in town like a school teacher does, arguing almost caressingly about the need for education and the futility of hanging around all day grabbing nests and stoning dogs.

    To help with the tasks, a professional teacher would come from Sigüenza once a week, check the calligraphy notebooks, propose the exercises and check the accounts, besides bringing packages of calligraphy notebooks, multiplication tables and some large letter books and clear for the first readings.

Chains were put in the square, some tables covered with checkered tablecloths, red and blue, two jars of considerable size, one with wine from Aragon, but somewhat reduced with fresh water from the same stream from the public fountain, so

     it did not cause problems, and another with a sarsaparilla syrup, sweet and cloying, for women and children, since since the Socialists arrived it was frowned upon to give wine to children, and less in public.

    At noon the official acts began, consisting of the reading of a short speech by the secretary of the Town Hall, since the "Tejero" was not a very good speaker, apart from his skill for the "viva", illustrating the people about the historical origin of «May Day». But before it was over the waiters were already asking the dulzainero to start the party.

    "What a way to waste time! The secretary commented with the Tejero, carefully folding the paper with the review, for which he had done a great job copying it by hand from an encyclopedia of the Sigüenza municipal library. Where the heads are made to wear the beret, do not come with the monsergas of history! »

    The party was encouraged and jacks and fandangos were danced, some with more skill, others with less, for not being very popular in the region; He drank the watery wine that was destined for the occasion, and the children, as always, doing all the mischief and mischief that came to their fertile imagination. Maybe it was at that party that I realized that my childhood was already over, because at no time did it occur to me to join them in their antics, on the contrary, for the first time I censored their perversions, and they even came to me wishes to give some soup to any of them.

    As there was no custom of such a novel festivity, and there would not even be a procession, the townspeople retired as soon as the wine and sarsaparilla were finished, and even the musicians were angered, because the rockets and the cucañas were missing, something essential in any real party. The new mayor, presiding with dignity over the Verbena gouache, commented with the secretary.

    "It is a matter of time, they will become customary." To which the secretary replied: "It is that political parties are not genuine parties, and less without a saint or procession!" Don Gregorio did not appear in the town, which avoided the consequent protocol friction.

    But on Monday the 11th we received alarming news from Madrid, where masses of uncontrolled, apparently favorable to the new Republic, had burned the Carmelites of Ferraz, and several convents in the city, from Chamartín to Cuatro Caminos, and not happy, had set fire He also set fire to various churches. Fortunately, there had been no victims among the religious, but the news fell on the town like a real jug of cold water and marked the end of the people's good disposition for the "Pretty Girl", as it was common to call the new Republic For the fears that this would bring violence, especially for the Church and its members, seemed to be confirmed. I remembered my preservation with Don Gregorio and my hair stood on end again, and again fear soaked me to the bone.

    At night, I heard comments in the tavern that further aggravated the tense atmosphere that had been created. "Let's see if these town reds can think of burning the town church too and we have to get the shotguns out of Somatén again!"

    The news the next day was no better, quite the opposite. Someone brought a copy of "The Debate," blaming the Republic itself and its Provisional Government directly for the burning, and proclaiming the need to reinstate the monarchy to again ensure peace and order in the country. "El Tejero" brought several newspapers from "El Socialista", with its own version of events, in which it was said that everything had been a provocation of the monarchists, who did not admit the new regime, and that it should not be exaggerated with the number of burnt convents, but due to morbidity or intentionally, those of the tavern did not pay the slightest attention to them and believed the conservative newspaper version.

    The next day things were even worse, and it was already in the middle of Spain where churches and convents burned, especially in the south, where the first serious confrontations with the Civil Guard took place, and if it intervened there were always dead or wounded They weren't there to lecture, but to shoot those who were out of control.

    On all those days Don Gregorio did not appear for the people and I was afraid that on Sunday some serious one could get involved in the church, because the atmosphere against the new Republic was already boiling and Don Gregorio had no hair on his tongue, so He feared that his sermon would inflame spirits further and destroy the relative harmony that still prevailed in the town.

    Sunday came and the church was packed, both of them, because everyone wanted to know what Don Gregorio would say in the sermon so that they would not be caught unawares later. But thank God, Don Gregorio, whether out of fear or conviction, did not say a word about what happened, and simply reminded us that May was the month of the Virgin Mary, and that we should venerate her properly, going to the evening rosaries on Saturday, in addition to adorning as usual the image of the Virgin. That of the town is nicknamed "of the river", because according to tradition it appeared floating in the Henares when the plague struck the town, but no one knows for sure what year it was. The Lady only appeared in the river and miraculously ended all the ills of the people. At least that is what the legend of the «Virgin of the river» tells. In addition to this image, we had a San Antonio, obscured by the smoke of the candles, which could not fit one more on the pedestal as much as the girls from the town asked; a Saint Christopher with the child somewhat chipped, because he fell in a procession when a calf escaped from the running of the bulls, who gored those who carried the saint, and a fairly ancient Christ, almost Romanesque, of a bad bill but impressive for its drama and streams of blood trickled down his face from the crown of thorns.

    At the end of the mass the «Tejero», who, as mayor and by protocol, believed in the obligation to occupy the first pews of the church, so that his attendance at mass would be clearly visible, seemed satisfied and relieved. "This priest has more common sense than that Cardinal Segura, no matter how primate of Toledo he is," he commented to the oldest of the Valiente brothers. If the religious class were all of this liberal character, the people would have no dislike for the church, that there are countries where the clergy are even republican and harmony and concord reign ».

    But the slogan of the "Ecclesiastical Bulletin" for the Sunday sermon was to incite Catholics to take action and move to elect Catholic candidates in the new constituent Cortes, but Don Gregorio had to consider that such a slogan was meaningless in our people. There can be no other reason to explain his silence.

    Fortunately, the rest of the month passed without any more frights and I was able to return to my usual routine, as it was to wait for Agnes at the edge of the road, morning and afternoon, to play my elder flute under the oak to my sheep, between howling and howling of my patient bitch and the valid of some sheep, who had already taken the tone and did not detune.

    Thus, one afternoon in the middle of May, when the construction of the Casa del Pueblo was nearing completion, I saw Inés arrive on the road more calm and thoughtful than usual. He no longer only carried his notebook, but a thick book that must have been where he learned other things, besides reading and writing, and where the figures of two children appeared reading, but as if instead of studying they were playing.

    "It's an encyclopedia!" Do you know what an encyclopedia is? - He said putting the book almost in my face. I shook my head in denial, embarrassed as usual. An encyclopedia is a book to learn everything, not just how to read and write. Do you understand

    She did not wait for my answer and sat down on a circle of overgrown grass, because she seemed tired from the walk, and remained thoughtful as usual, losing her gaze somewhere far away from the already blooming Henares Valley.

    —You think, Andrés, that I will know how to do it; What will I know how to do as a teacher when I'm just a half illiterate bastard?

    I was surprised by the question, because it was the first time that he asked for my opinion on something, since he always missed me and he didn't seem to expect me to know anything that worried him. So I was glad to have the opportunity to show myself how I really felt, responsible and with good judgment.

    "What do I know, you will know better than anyone, but if you have offered yourself, you will have your reasons!"

    —The only reason is that I get angry that people are illiterate, like you, when it is so nice to know how to read and write and make the four rules; and it gives so much encouragement that it seems that one is born again to life!

    "Well, you have enough with that."

    "But what do I know to teach?"

    —If you don't know you will learn it, that there is no need to learn things soon and well.

    —You speak as if you were the teacher, who surely you would be and better than me, if you weren't so stubborn!

    "The day's reproach had to come out!" You know I have my reasons.

    —You don't have them now, because there you have a school to learn what you need, and forget that I am the teacher, that everyone who comes will treat it the same way.

    It was inevitable that the subject would arise, so he had to make the decision now, because Ines's humor was not there to give him more setbacks. More out of love and respect for her than anything else, I made a commitment to attend her literacy classes. But not without grumbling.

    —For you to shut up once and for all, I am going to let you teach me to read and write, but without jokes or scoffs, that I have enough misfortune to be illiterate so that still…

    Inés did not let me finish, she turned to me with a wide and radiant smile of victorious satisfaction, and he gave me a sonorous and triumphant kiss on the cheek that left a mark on my face.

    —I like that, Andrés, that you aspire to be a profitable man! Put garlic in your hand, I am going to make it red with rules! - and walked away with renewed momentum, taking long strides, while waving his arm saying goodbye to me. I, still shaken by the soft impression of his lips on my cheek, imitated her as if stunned. Fate had done its job: it would be at the Casa del Pueblo of the Spanish Socialist Workers Party where my ecclesiastical career would begin. Ironies of fate!

    The next morning I was awakened by the gurgling of swallows that nested each year under the eaves of the patio of our house. I was surprised because it was the first time I had heard them since last summer, so I deduced that they had returned from their long hibernation God knows where. I got up and being careful not to scare them away, I half opened the window of my bedroom and, in fact, there they were again, but I couldn't recognize if it was the same adult couple of each year or the suckers of last year. I don't know why, but my heart was glad with that monotonous rattle, as if those elegant birds brought the harmony of life itself where they nested. I thought that if the swallows returned to the town, it must be because they were still blessed by God and nothing bad could happen to us. If not, the first to know it would have to be themselves, and they would nest anywhere else.

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

        

    

        

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

        

        

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

        

    

        

        

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

        

        

Hoy es una hermosa tarde estival y resultaba agradable recorrer la gran avenida 17 de Junio bajo sus frondosos árboles, desde la puerta de Brandemburgo, aunque yo venía del Instituto Cervantes, en el estresante barrio de Mitte, abarrotado de turistas boquiabiertos y fotomaniáticos, donde había ido a buscar un libro de Ángela Vallvey, que resulto que no lo tenían. El semáforo está situado en la avenida Spreeweg, a pocos metros del palacio presidencial de Bellvue, y es uno de esos semáforos que tardan mucho en cambiar, y donde suelen concentrarse limpiadores de parabrisas, titiriteros callejeros o escupefuegos espontáneos. Afortunadamente en este caso la persona que entretenía a los acalorados conductores no era el clásico escupefuego, sudoroso, súper tatuado y con las manos sucias de la gasolina, al que siempre le suele acompañar un perro inclusero, desgarbado y de pelaje raído por las largas siestas sobre las aceras de Berlín, sino que era un «ángel». Sí, tal y como lo digo, un hermoso ángel de un endemoniado atractivo físico. Y si aquel precioso ángel excitó mi imaginación sin duda fue porque no tengo ni el menor indicio de homosexualidad, todo lo contrario, pero es un poco embarazoso entrar en más detalles.

El ángel que observé en realidad era una mujer de unos veinte años, o tal vez más joven. Digo que era un ángel porque tenía dos pequeñas alas blancas sujetadas a la espalda completamente desnuda. Vestía una especie de túnica azul ceñida escasa por todas partes por donde se mirase, supongo que poco angelical, que apenas le cubría una ridícula parte de su hermoso cuerpo. ¿Qué hacía en el semáforo con sus pequeñas alas blancas? Nada del otro mundo, sobre todo para ser un ángel. Se ganaba la vida alegrando la vista a los conductores y lanzando dos bolos al aire, que recogía con bastante precisión después de que hicieran varias piruetas en el aire. Pero lo fascinante de su breve y sencillo espectáculo no era sin duda ni su habilidad para lanzar los bolos, ni sus pequeñas alas blancas, sino ella misma. El espectáculo era su cuerpo, capaz de dilatar las pupilas de cualquier hombre sin rastros de homosexualidad, o de una lesbiana, claro está, y de desbocar la imaginación con fantasías eróticas inevitables e inconfesables, sobre todo si los conductores estaban acompañados de sus respectivas esposas, pero no en mi caso, solo y conduciendo una bicicleta. Así es que dejé que mi imaginación se desbocara, porque no soportaría reconocer que he dejado de tener imaginación.

Si llevaba aquellas pequeñas alas sin duda que era para contrarrestar el endemoniado atractivo de su joven cuerpo, porque ella se diría a sí misma: «¡Eh, eh; a pesar de las apariencias soy un ángel!». Sin duda que este sencillo espectáculo callejero sería causa suficiente para una condena por lapidación en alguna cultura religiosa integrista. Pero afortunadamente en Berlín no pasan esas cosas. La verdad es que la chica era verdaderamente un ángel, porque los ángeles pueden presentarse transfigurados de diversas formas, y una de ellas es con el hermoso cuerpo de una joven lanzadora de bolos, entreteniendo a los agobiados conductores en un semáforo del Tiergarten. ¿Por qué no? Por mi experiencia de observador convulsivo me he dado cuenta de que en general la mayoría de las mujeres jóvenes de esta ciudad podía ir por ahí con dos alas de ángel en las espaldas, porque casi todas las que he conocido, de las más diversas razas de este agobiado planeta, me han parecido realmente angelicales. El mundo sería un funeral sin su alegría, su fresca imaginación y su espontánea naturalidad, como lo demuestra el hecho de que esta encantadora criatura llevaba dos alas de ángel con la misma naturalidad que si fueran propias. Por eso decía que me apasiona observar a la gente cuando se ven cosas como éstas, y de paso prueba, creo yo, mi teoría sobre mi masculinidad, sea para bien o para mal.

Con esto ya he dicho casi todo sobre mí. Claro que siempre hay cosas personales que son inconfesables. No creo que haya un solo ser humano que no oculte algo vergonzoso de su pasado, como haber torturado a un pobre animal indefenso, así como asuntos familiares indecentes o violentos que son inconfesables, incluso para uno mismo. Pienso que en nuestro ordenado y civilizado mundo occidental, rara es la mujer que no ha sido de alguna manera abusada, y raro es el hombre que ya adolescente no haya abusado alguna vez de alguna niña, o de otra adolescente, pero también, siendo ya adulto, de una mujer, sobre todo dentro del matrimonio. Pero estos son temas muy delicados, que como digo, son inconfesables públicamente. Uno no suele decir en sus autobiografías cosas como que de niños una vez jugando a médicos engañamos a una inocente criatura para que nos mostrara su sexo; o que las manoseábamos más de lo debido en el juego de la gallinita ciega, etc. Pero son cosas que no se olvidan, no porque estuvieran mal, sino porque nos habían hecho creer que estaban mal, que es muy distinto. Eran cosas naturales e inocentes, pero los dichosos curas que nos daban la catequesis nos hicieron creer que lo peor y más pecaminoso de la naturaleza humana estaba en la natural atracción sexual, es decir, en el erotismo. Claro que muchos de ellos tenían sus amantes, y algunos no respetaban ni edad ni sexo. Pero nadie decía nada, sólo sucedía que de vez en cuando tal o cual párroco habían sido trasladados a otra parroquia, y eso era todo.

Por esta razón, ya bastante crecido, he tenido de recomponer mi moralidad, sobre todo la relacionada con la sexualidad, y he conseguido librarme de la sensación de culpa por tener pene, hasta el extremo de que los veranos que pasaba en España solía frecuentar playas donde era tolerado el nudismo. Desde entonces controlo mi imaginación y sólo permito que se altere cuando las condiciones son favorables, como por ejemplo en el caso del ángel, pero nunca cuando estoy ante la presencia de un cuerpo desnudo al  natural, sin que haya motivo para creer que se trata de una provocación. Por esa razón, disfruto de su belleza, así sin más, por el puro placer estético y me encantan los desnudos femeninos.