I have checked and rechecked the provisions I am taking to Pericles several times; I don’t want to forget anything. These twenty days without seeing my husband seem like an eternity. I am nervous, like a girl about to see her sweetheart after a long separation. All these bad experiences I’ve had in the last few weeks have turned a little red light on in my head, a warning light not to get shaken too badly if things go haywire again, if the Devil starts whispering again in the warlock’s ear.
Wednesday April 26
Finally, I was able to spend an entire hour with Pericles! I have no words to describe what I felt. At first, while we were being searched, and the guards were rummaging through the suitcase and the basket, I couldn’t contain my excitement, as if I were a little girl about to get the toy I had always wanted, but once I was face-to-face with Pericles, I controlled myself, though I was so happy I kept wanting to jump up and throw my arms around him. The first thing he did, after we greeted each other, was look through the basket to find the cigarettes and he immediately lit one up, then he asked me to pour him a cup of coffee from the thermos. He looked over the other things; he laughed at the after-shave lotion: he said he had made his peace with smelling bad, but the problem would be to keep it away from his fellow prisoners who would want to drink it. We talked about everything; he was very happy they let Betito in. I told him I had no news about Clemen, I told him about the fright we had upon leaving church on Sunday, about Chente’s arrest and subsequent release, and all the political gossip. Betito excitedly told him about the prospect of a general strike led by university students. He told us to be very careful, to remember that one should never confront “the man” head on; he said most of the prison guards treat the political prisoners well, even with respect: among the prison authorities a lot of uncertainty reigns, many are convinced that sooner or later change will come and that “the man” will end up leaving. He asked me to call Pati as soon as we got home to reassure her that he is fine so she doesn’t worry. I told him I would tell his mother the same thing, the poor dear wanted to come but her arthritis was acting up. As the time passed I started to notice the toll imprisonment was taking on him, a twitch in his right eye, his cough worse than ever, his pallor. I told him I would bring some cough syrup next time I came. He chain-smoked during the whole visit; it’s the first time in jail that getting cigarettes has been the biggest challenge, he said. Then he asked after Mila and the grandchildren. I hoped to sound natural when I told him they were fine in spite of her complaints about her economic difficulties; but I’ve never known how to lie to my husband: he threw me an inquisitorial look, turned to Betito, then grew quiet. I told him that yesterday, when I heard about the lifting of the curfew, I called the lawyer, Mr. Pineda, who told me the conditions might now be more favorable for moving his case through the courts. Pericles told me not to build up any hope, that his release will have nothing to do with any courts — it will only come when “the man” orders it or because “the man” isn’t in power anymore. It took all my strength to say goodbye, and hold back the tears. As I left I tried to find Sergeant Flores to ask him when we could visit next, but on the wall in the hallway there was a sign posted that stated that we could return on Saturday morning.
Chente came over in the afternoon; I thought his time in jail would have dampened his enthusiasm, but he has again plunged head first into organizing the strike. He said his fellow prisoners have also left jail even more resolved to struggle against the tyrant. Today, he informed me, final-year students who work as interns in the hospitals, legal assistants in the courts, employees of the Ministry of Public Works, and assistants in dental clinics will all go on strike. And he explained that he is part of the group responsible for raising funds to help students who work in public sector offices who have gone on strike and who have families to support. I offered to lend him a hand in whatever way I could. Later, I went to my parents’ house; I explained the situation to Father. He told me he believes it will not be difficult to find honorable men who want to contribute to the strike fund to help defeat the warlock as long as their names, of course, are never revealed.
When I arrived home, María Elena was waiting for me with the news that Mila has let Ana go and begun to pack up the house, she will turn it over to the owners next Friday so they won’t charge her for an additional month, and she will move into her parents’ house. I felt wretched, as if the day had suddenly been spoiled. But there is nothing I can do: that woman is driven by the red-hot sin burning between her legs and nobody can stop her. What will become of Clemen when he finds out? I told myself I must focus on the tasks at hand and the memory of my meeting with my husband to avoid having bad thoughts. Fortunately Carmela and Chelón came by for coffee a while later, to find out in detail how Pericles is, what his living conditions are; they asked me if they could come with me for a brief visit once the visits become regular, just to say hello and have the pleasure of giving him a hug, without intruding for long on our privacy. I told them they could, of course, but that I hope Pericles will be freed before they allow regular visits. Then we spoke about the strike and I showed them the leaflet Chente had given me; they had a different one, also a typed carbon copy, more or less saying the same thing, calling on everybody to stop cooperating in any way with the government, nobody should go to the movie theaters the warlock owns, or buy lottery tickets, or pay local taxes. Both leaflets call for a boycott of the government newspapers and a large show of passive resistance, but the one Chente brought me asks everybody to always wear a token of mourning as a way of showing that they condemn the executions. Chelón commented that there doesn’t seem to be any sign of the government re-authorizing the publication of opposition newspapers.
A short while ago, Betito told me he believes the high schools will soon call a strike, today there was an intense discussion on the subject at his school. I warned him not to use the excuse of a strike to miss classes if other students are attending, the struggle against the general is serious and there’s no excuse for taking advantage of it in order to party with his friends; I know my sons all too well.
It has been an intense and gratifying day; to be with Pericles was like a gift from heaven for which I am deeply grateful.
Thursday April 27
Once again, intimidation and violence! The general is counterattacking rather than relenting. We were about to begin the novenas of mourning for Lieutenant Marín when the National Guard troops burst into the church. Doña Chayito had summoned me to attend: she said our presence was important to show our solidarity with the family. I didn’t think twice about it. But when I arrived I realized there was a big crowd, even Chente and Fabito were milling around in the atrium, so I assumed this was an act of both solidarity and denunciation. What I never thought possible was that the warlock would dare to send his troops into the church with orders to evict us. He is sacrilegious, an apostate. Fortunately, the boys saw them coming and took off in time to avoid confrontations and arrests. I am still furious. This is the last straw. Lieutenant Marín’s wife and his mother are both primary school teachers, and they have decided to go on strike with the support of many of their colleagues.
The day began with excellent good news. Mingo dropped by the house to find out how Pericles is doing, and he took the opportunity to tell me that the Americans have already firmly turned their backs on the general, yesterday the ambassador rejected the government’s proposal for the United States to send officers to reorganize the air force, which was virtually dismantled after the attempted coup. “Such a rejection means they’ve lost all trust in the government,” Mingo explained to me with great excitement. I went straight to Father with the news. He told me he’d speak with Uncle Charlie to confirm. By noon everybody had heard that “the man” is being left out in the cold.