By the time I left, Betito had already hightailed it out of there, surely in hot pursuit of Leonor. I walked a couple of blocks with Doña Chayito; the sky was cloudy and for a moment there was a light breeze, which made me think we would soon get the first rain of the season, and we did, a few hours later. Doña Chayito told me that the struggle to free our family members had taken second place, and we must now put all our efforts into supporting the general strike called by the university students, we must convince our friends and acquaintances to join the strike, close shops and offices so that the country would cease to function as soon as possible and so the warlock will be forced to leave. I told her to count on me for anything I can do to help. She explained that it would be best for me to take advantage of my relationship with Chente, for the students are taking the lead and it is no longer an issue of protesting in the streets but rather turning the city into a ghost town, everyone should remain at home and then only policemen and soldiers will be left in the streets, wandering about like lost souls.
Lunch at my parents’ was hectic. Uncle Charlie and some of Father’s friends discussed the negotiations they were holding with the chambers of commerce and the business owners’ associations to get them to keep paying their employees even though their places of business remain closed. Monday is May 1, anyway, a holiday, so the strike will begin on Tuesday, with the bankers taking the lead in the private sector. I confessed to Father that I feel quite lost in the maelstrom that has been unleashed. He told me not to worry, I can continue participating as I have been, passing funds to the student committee so they can distribute them to bus drivers, taxi drivers, government employees, train operators, and others, so they can buy food and survive day to day for as long as the strike lasts. As I was leaving my parents’, I crossed paths with Juan White, together with Mono Harris and Winall Dalton, who were stopping by for a visit, rather tipsy for so early in the day. Winall is always quite flirtatious with me, though respectful, and he always seems like a gentleman to me, though Pericles says he is nothing but a “lecherous gringo” around whom I should never lower my guard.
This afternoon, after visiting Don Jorge and Teresita at the Polyclinic, I stopped by my neighbors, where they were celebrating Rosita’s birthday, though the party was actually just a front for the doctors to meet to plan next week’s strike. Raúl told me that I shouldn’t worry, the warlock will fall before we know it, and we would have Pericles and Clemen with us again. Chente dropped by, as usual in a rush, and he whispered to me that pharmacists, justices of the peace, and even market vendors are poised to go on strike, and that they will need more cash support from the well-to-do. The excitement was so contagious that even I had a drink.
Now I am home alone. Betito went to a big party at the Club, the first since the government authorized it to open. I told myself this has to work, “the man” can’t possibly face everybody down if nobody is standing in front of him; I also told myself that the coming days are going to be hectic, even though there won’t be any protests in the street, and we’ll have to keep our noses to the grindstone to achieve a total moratorium. My only regret is that this is the last page of my beautiful notebook from Brussels. On Tuesday I’ll buy another one before the shops close for the strike.
Fugitives (IV)
1:08 p.m.
“It’s hellfire out there, Clemen.”
“What?”
“It’s hellfire. Look: nothing moves under this sun shining straight down like a lead weight. This is what Hell must be like. Luckily, we’re in the shade of the mangroves. ”