by B. TRAVEN
4
By the time Andrés had worked out that debt of twenty-five pesos, he had run up a debt on his own account with don Laureano of forty-two pesos for goods he had bought from him and sixteen pesos in cash he had needed for other things.
Now that he had served his employer well and truly and with a proper Christian humility and submission for over three years, his debt with don Laureano amounted to ninety-four pesos. A mathematician could have told him in two minutes, not as a guess but with precision, that if he continued serving him so well for forty years he would by that time have a debt of nine hundred and twenty-four pesos, thirty centavos with don Laureano or his son, after counting all raises which he might secure by true and loyal service or by ruses.
Andrés, like all carreteros, looked down with pity and compassion on the poor peons who had no liberty and were tied to the finca to which they belonged. And indeed there was a great difference between the social and economic liberties of a carretero and those of a peon on a finca.
If a carretero fell down a ravine on a journey or a carreta ran over him and crushed him, or a mad ox gored him, or a rattlesnake bit him on his bare foot, or malaria carried him off, then his debts were canceled. The patrón did not lament the death of a carretero who had died in his service; he lamented the bad debt. But at least the carretero was free and duly received into paradise.
When a peon died, the finquero did not lose a centavo of the peon’s debt. It passed as a matter of course to his eldest son, or was shared among all his sons, or passed to the dead man’s brother if there were no sons, or to the husbands of the daughters if he had daughters only. So the peon was not free even after his death. He had to live on as a peon in the persons of his sons, his daughters, or his brothers.
When the peon was buried, the finquero summoned his sons or brothers or sons-in-law and showed them his ledger and the dead man’s debit account. “Is that right?” he asked. And the representatives of the dead man replied: “Yes, patrón, that is right.”
Then the finquero turned up the account of the next of kin and entered the dead man’s debt and added the two together. He then said the total aloud and asked again: “Is that right, muchacho?” And the man replied: “Yes, that is right, patrón.”
When this was disposed of, the finquero opened the little chapel of the finca and the wives of the peons were permitted to enter and place candles for the soul of the deceased on the altar of the patron saint of the finca and light them. For the patrón of the finca was a good Catholic who would have incurred a mortal sin if he had not allowed candles to be lighted for the salvation of a deceased Catholic, even though that Catholic was only a poor peon.
That was just. It was accounted just. And because it was just, it was, like all else which is just, supported by law and by the State. For what would be the use of the State if it did not with its police and its soldiers, its judges and its prisons, support what is just?
It was these little differences which gave the carreteros the right to consider that they stood one rung higher on the social ladder than the peons on a finca.
The world is full of justice. It is the fault of the carreteros and the peons and of all other workers in the world if they make no use of the justice which is theirs for the asking. Nobody puts a loaded revolver to a carretero’s chest and forces him to run up bills; nobody forces anyone to do so; not even the most money-grubbing finquero forces a peon into his debt. To contract debts or not to contract debts is the greatest of all a worker’s liberties.
If the carretero and the peon make an improper and even positively dangerous use of this great liberty, which forms the very core of every national anthem of every people, one must not blame the finquero or the cartage contractor. That is unjust and not at all fair.
All men without exception are equipped at birth with free will. For every single one two ways lie open, the way to hell and the way to eternal joys and songs of praise in paradise. The inventor of the phrases “wage slave” and “slaves of economic conditions” is the Antichrist—the same Antichrist of whom the apostles said: Beware. It is the sacred duty of all good, just, and noble people to hang their false prophets, or to seat them in the electric chair, or to designate them as fanatics and destroyers of the State.
8
It was the last week in January. In the middle of February there was the fiesta of San Caralampio at Balún-Canán.
San Caralampio was the patron saint of the town of Balún-Canán. He was at the same time patron saint of Sapaluta, a small town lying in the wide plain of Balún-Canán, about twenty kilometers away.
San Caralampio would have been hard put to it to say how he became patron saint of Balún-Canán; nor was there anyone else who knew why San Caralampio was chosen to defend the town of Balún-Canán against the devil and all other hazards, or who had made him its champion. Even the curas—the priests of Balún-Canán—would have been in a fix if they had been called upon for a concise answer to the question why Caralampio was of such importance to the town as a saint. And nobody, all the curas included, could have said with any certainty who Caralampio was, when he lived, and what he had done to be made a saint. Everybody was content with the fact that his effigy in wood was in the cathedral church of Balún-Canán and in the church of Sapaluta, where anyone could see it as large as life if he wished to convince himself that such a personage as San Caralampio really existed.
The fiesta in honor of San Caralampio was nothing whatever but an unabashed excuse for promoting business. It lasted a full week; and as there were festivities in preparation and in conclusion it occupied in reality two weeks at least.
Whatever can be done under the sun was permitted by the civic authorities during this holy fiesta; for these two weeks brought tremendous business to the mayor, the revenue officials, and the chief of police. It was because of this great opportunity, not discounting the everyday ones during the year, that the elections for the civic offices and the post of chief of police were enlivened by hundreds of revolver shots and the shooting and wounding of rival candidates and voters.
All traders had high charges to pay for their stands. And as gambling was forbidden by law throughout the Republic and only the authorities could give special dispensations, every proprietor of a gambling table had to pay for one in hard cash. But it was the cantineros who had the heaviest charges to pay.
Business in the cantinas was encouraged by “barmaids” who arrived in troops with their “mothers” and “foster mothers.” For the permission to employ “barmaids,” the cantineros had to pay through the nose. And the “mothers” who acted as the business managers for the girls had to pay the mayor and the other dignitaries well for permission to send the girls off for an hour now and then with customers of the cantina. The good citizens too, who desired to let their good rooms and double beds by the hour to these “barmaids,” had to buy “a permission to let” from the authorities, with money down.
Even the doctor who was authorized to examine the girls and give them a clean bill of health had to come to an understanding with the mayor, in case another doctor offered more and stole his privilege from him. Every girl had to have her certificate renewed three times a week—such were the regulations of the mayor and the chief of police—and each certificate cost three pesos. Thus the doctor too regarded the sacred fiesta in honor of the sainted Caralampio as the most lucrative time of the year. The good folk of the town who were his regular patients would only be cured on credit; and their bills often went unpaid for three or four years in a row. These “barmaids,” on the other hand, were self-respecting clients who paid on the spot and made no grimaces about it.
The authorities gave some return for the money, lest anyone should say that it found its way into their individual pockets. They spent two hundred pesos or so on rockets and squibs and arranged firework displays to delight the populace. They had not studied Roman history, but their own intelligence was sufficient to direct them to the political philosophy of ancient Rome:
bread and circuses.
They did not forget the bread. An ox and a few pigs were roasted in the square and all the poor received their piece of barbacoa. Even on the fireworks and the barbecue the authorities made a bit; for the men who wished to provide the fireworks and the barbecue for the poor had to oil the official who disposed of these contracts, lest others who were also in the same line of business got the contract in their places. No one on earth expects anyone to fete the populace or feed the poor for nothing. Nobody does such things unless he wants to be called a fool. And since the contractors had to come out on the right side, they delivered only half what the authorities had paid them for, or else the quality was so poor that it was worth very much less than half.
As every official had his finger in the pie in some way or another, no inspection was made. What would be the point? Life is much more cheerful when things are not looked into too closely. The mayor, the assessor of taxes, and the chief of police all have cares enough on this earth; why should anyone further darken an already sad existence by submitting their accounts and ledgers and receipts and bills of delivery to a rigorous examination? And if an investigation were actually undertaken—the devil only knows by whom—the inspector appointed for the task would very well know the value of fifty pesos and could very easily earn them in the course of his duties. We are all brothers and none of us is perfect; so we stand by each other for our country’s good. Viva la patria.
2
Andrés had conducted a small train of carretas from Chiapa de Corso to Sapaluta. Don Laureano entrusted it to him because he could not spare any of the older carreteros that week, as he had an exceptionally heavy freight on the road from Arriaga to Tulum, and the goods were of a kind that required handling by experienced carreteros if they were to arrive undamaged.
It was the dry season, and Andrés’s responsibility had been further lightened because the caravan had been accompanied by a number of small traders, male and female, who were conveying their goods to Sapaluta in the carretas, and who all had a personal interest in the safe arrival of their wares. When anything occurred on the way—a broken wheel, a broken bit of road which had to be hurriedly made passable—they all turned to with a will in order to save their goods and get them to market in good time.
Sapaluta, which probably had the same patron saint Caralampio as Balún-Canán because they could not think of or did not know of any other, held its fiesta two weeks earlier than Balún-Canán. A sound business instinct had dissuaded the good people of Sapaluta from holding it at the same time, for they would then have had to share the proceeds with the much larger Balún-Canán. As it was, they had things all to themselves and could skim the thickest of the cream.
Hundreds of people from Balún-Canán went to Sapaluta for the occasion. They took advantage of the fiesta to visit friends and relations whom they had not seen for so long and yet loved so dearly. In this way they had free board and lodging and saved the expense of a hotel. What was said about the infliction behind their backs did not worry them, because they never heard it; and the good people of Sapaluta got their own back when two weeks later they all arrived in Balún-Canán for the fiesta there and demanded and received free board and lodging from their friends and relations in turn.
All this helped trade. The interchange of visitors by the hundreds between one town and the other made a large increase in the number of consumers; and when consumers are numerous the outlook for business is bright.
The entire district, in a circle with a diameter of perhaps a hundred kilometers, lived in a constant tumult of excitement for the four weeks of these two fiestas, and only recovered when it was time to start on the preparations for the Semana Santa—Holy Week.
The Church too made a very good thing out of this double fiesta of San Caralampio. No one can blame the Church for that. It had made San Caralampio as well as the other forty-two thousand saints, and therefore it was only just and reasonable that it should not be left empty-handed.
The people of Balún-Canán who visited Sapaluta by the hundreds made it their first duty to pay their respects to San Caralampio in the church of Sapaluta and to give to the Church. And when the people of Sapaluta paid their return visit to the fiesta at Balún-Canán, it was equally necessary for the good of their souls that they should do honor to San Caralampio in the cathedral and give to the Church in their turn. All the pious of the whole neighborhood, even though they were not domiciled either in Sapaluta or Balún-Canán, made pilgrimage to both fiestas, lest they might by any chance fall short in adoration of San Caralampio. Better give twice to the Church than not at all. In matters of religion it is far better to err on the side of doing too well than not well enough. Not a centavito offered to the Church is ever forgotten in heaven, as you may read clearly enough on the poorboxes in the churches.
The churches of Sapaluta and Balún-Canán did not take money only from the pious. The Church is no respecter of persons and does not inquire into the whence and the wherefore of its takings.
Every trader and gambling-table proprietor, as soon as he had taken his spot and come to terms with the authorities for the rent and tax on it, went at once to the church to beseech San Caralampio, in whose honor and at whose invitation he was there, to bless his business and multiply his gains, since it was only for Caralampio’s sake that he had made such a long and hard journey—when really he would rather have stayed at home with his wife and children. There they all offered candles and put good hard coin into San Caralampio’s poorbox, because as experienced businessmen they knew that you get nothing for nothing in this world. You must give while you have a pocket left you. Once you’re aloft on your journey up pockets are commonly absent and then it is too late.
The cantineros also opened business with an ardent prayer to San Caralampio accompanied by hard cash. They had to make sure of a handsome profit on the sale of their comiteco and other alcoholic drinks. Above all the “barmaids” knelt for hours before San Caralampio and offered up—or if they had nothing on them because they had not yet earned anything, they solemnly promised him a percentage of their takings. And with quiet dignity knelt also their chaperons, who stood in the place of mothers to the poor innocent virgin girls. With a noble gesture they drew their black shawls right over their faces and reeled off dozens of rosaries on end. They prayed for the salvation of the poor girls entrusted to their care—innocents, their souls endangered by the snares of the evil one—who could not protect themselves, because they had pretty faces and yet did not want to starve. By their prayers and their generous offerings the “mothers” of these girls acquitted themselves of all guilt from the very start. Once this was done the way was clear for a thriving trade, for it had been said to them: Believe and pray and make offerings, and you will find forgiveness; whoever believes and has faith, to him the Kingdom of Heaven is open.
All the strolling peddlers and swindlers who came in droves from every corner of the state to relieve the good people in Sapaluta and Balún-Canán of money, goods, and chattels—pickpockets, thieves, card sharpers and dice jugglers, soothsayers, fire-eaters, sword swallowers, and snake charmers—these too came into the church to pay their respects and make offering.
The cripples and beggars gave their part, remembering that it was to San Caralampio they owed their prospects of a good haul. As soon as their prayers were at an end, they crept out of the church and sat at the door and on the steps and began business. They wrangled among themselves a good while at first for places nearest the door. But then they saw reason and came to an agreement that each should have the right to sit nearest the door for two hours, and they drew up a detailed roster of shifts and reliefs.
Once the preparation for the fiesta had been made to the general satisfaction of all the heavenly and earthly powers, the real business could begin. And it began with a solemn High Mass at which no eye was dry, no heart untouched; all vowed from now on to keep themselves from evil on earth and prepare themselves exclusively for eternal life.
&
nbsp; When High Mass was over and the pious congregation filed out of the church, the bands of musicians and the marimberos were already starting up on the square before the cathedral. From the gambling tables came shouts of “Se fué—gone!” and the roulette discs spun merrily. The stallkeepers bawled: “Soy el más barato del mundo—I give the best value in the world!” From the cantinas you heard: “Otra copita—another little one for a dry throat!” The cripples and beggars on the church steps whimpered: “Tengo hambre, caridad, por Dios, me muero—I’m hungry, charity, for the love of God, I’m dying!” The “barmaids” took out their lipsticks and colored their lips a hectic red.
Business had begun, to the glory of San Caralampio.
3
In pursuance of his duties Andrés had by this time brought his caravan from Sapaluta to Balún-Canán, for the traders had to be there with their wares for the fiesta. He was to wait until it was over and then take the people home again to Tulum and Suchiapa, or wherever it might be.
The loads diminished very little, because the traders, whether on the road or at the places where they plied their trade, always found opportunities for buying fresh wares in districts where they were made or produced. These might be tobacco, coffee, wool, blankets, skins, mats, bastwork, wickerwork, comiteco, clay figures, toys. They bought all these wares cheaply and took them along to sell either at small places on the road or else in the larger towns along the railroad, where they made a big profit on them.
Andrés’s caravan had not lain idle during the preparations for the fiesta at Sapaluta. The carretas were driven back to Tsobtajál, halfway between Balún-Canán and Jovel. Here they had taken on a full load of earthenware, made by the Indians of Tsobtajál, and delivered it to the agents of don Laureano in those towns.
