They argued, and though in the end they reconciled with each other, Amelia realized that there was a barrier between her and Lola, the boundary of Lola’s own prejudices, and that it would be a very difficult barrier to cross.
Even so, Amelia got even more involved in political activities, if that were possible; she volunteered to work in the People’s House, she did secretarial work for Lola’s party, and did whatever was asked of her.
Amelia’s political activity developed in parallel with Santiago’s; in that year of 1935, Don Manuel Azaña made many appearances between May and October and gained the support of large sections of society, and Santiago was present at many of these meetings of the Republican Left. He was sure that the solution for Spain’s problems was for Manuel Azaña to take charge of the country, which was sinking ever deeper in an economic and institutional crisis.
Things were no better in the rest of the world. The whole of Europe was worried about Hitler.
One April night when Amelia’s parents had come to visit their daughter and son-in-law, Don Juan said with satisfaction that the League of Nations in Geneva had condemned Germany’s rearmament.
“It looks like they’re finally starting to do something about this madman... ,” Don Juan said to his son-in-law.
“I wouldn’t be so optimistic. Lots of people in Europe are very worried about what’s happened in Russia, they’re afraid of being contaminated by the Soviet Revolution,” Santiago replied.
“You may be right, it seems as if the whole world has gone mad, people are saying that Stalin is strongly opposed to the dissidents,” Don Juan said.
Amelia burst in angrily, surprising her father and husband.
“Don’t believe the Fascist propaganda! What’s happening is that some people are scared, scared of losing their privileges, but Russia for the first time is becoming aware of what dignity is, is building a Republic of workers, of men and women who are equal and free...”
“Why, my dear, what things you say!”
“Amelia, don’t get upset, remember you’re pregnant!” Doña Teresa was anxious on her daughter’s behalf.
“You know, Amelia, I’m worried when you say these things, you’re letting yourself get taken in by the Communists and their propaganda,” Santiago appeared angry.
“Come, come, let’s not argue, it’s not good for the girl,” Doña Teresa hated for Amelia to get caught up in political arguments.
“We’re not arguing, Mama. It’s just that I don’t like Papa to say that things aren’t going well in Russia. And you, Santiago, you should be hoping that something like the Russian Revolution happens in the rest of Europe, people can’t wait forever to be treated with a little justice.”
That night Amelia and Santiago had an argument. As soon as Don Juan and Doña Teresa left, Amelia and Santiago began a fight that ended up being audible throughout the rest of the house.
“Amelia, you have to stop meeting with Lola! She’s putting these ideas in your head...”
“What do you mean, she’s putting ideas in my head? Do you think I’m an idiot, that I can’t think for myself, that I don’t notice what’s going on around us? The right wing is leading us into a catastrophe... You complain about the situation, you and my father... You know the difficulties my family is facing...”
“Revolution is not the solution. Lots of injustices are committed in the name of revolution. Do you think that your friend Lola would have mercy on you if there were a revolution?”
“Mercy? Why would she have to have mercy? I would support the revolution!”
“You’re mad!”
“How dare you call me mad!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, but I’m worried, you don’t know what’s happening in Russia...”
“You’re the person who doesn’t know anything! I’ll tell you what’s happening in Russia: People have enough to eat, for the first time there’s food enough for everyone. There are no poor people, they’ve got rid of the bloodsuckers, the capitalists, and...”
“Don’t be naïve, my girl!”
“Naïve?”
Amelia left the salon sobbing, slamming the door behind her. Santiago followed her up to her bedroom, worried that their argument could affect the child she was carrying.
Amelia was ever more filled with Lola’s ideas, or rather the ideas of Josep, Lola’s partner and Pablo’s father. Because Amelia had finally met him.
One afternoon that Amelia and I went to Lola’s house, Josep was there, recently returned from Barcelona.
Josep was a handsome man. Tall and strong, with black eyes and a savage aspect, although he tried to appear friendly as well as cautious; he did not seem as mistrustful as Lola had.
“Lola’s spoken to me about you, I know you helped her. If they’d caught her she’d definitely be in prison. You don’t know how these disgusting Fascists treat women. It was a pity that we couldn’t make the revolution happen. We will be better prepared next time.”
“Yes, it was a shame things didn’t go better,” Amelia replied.
Josep monopolized the conversation for two hours, and this is how it would be on all the other occasions that we saw him. He told us how things were changing in Russia, how people had gone from being serfs to being citizens, how Stalin was cementing the foundations of the revolution by enacting all that the Bolsheviks had promised: Social classes had been done away with, and the people had enough to eat. They were putting their plans for development into action, and the rural workers were enthusiastic.
Josep described a paradise, and Amelia listened to him fascinated, drinking in his words. I was fired up by what he said, and decided that I would write to my brother Aitor to persuade him to open his mind to the new ideas that were coming from Russia. We were workers, not landowners, people like Josep. Of course I knew that Aitor would pay me no attention, he was still working and campaigning for the PNV, dreaming of a Basque homeland, although he didn’t yet say so out loud.
At that moment I did not know why, but Josep seemed to become interested in Amelia, and sent Lola to come and find us regularly during the time he was staying in Madrid.
Amelia was excited because a man like Josep was taking her seriously. Josep was a Communist leader in Barcelona. He was the chauffeur for a bourgeois Catalan family. He took his employer to his textile factory in Mataró every day, as well as accompanying his employer’s wife on her visits, or taking the children to school. He had previously been a bus driver. He had met Lola once while his employers were on a trip to Madrid, and they had had Pablo, without either of the two wanting to get married, or at least that’s what they said, although I always suspected that Josep had been married before meeting Lola. They had a curious relationship, because they saw each other only when Josep came to Madrid with his employer, something that happened about every six weeks, as his employer sold his fabrics throughout Spain and had a partner in the capital. Apart from their intermittent relationship, Lola and Josep appeared to get along well, and of course Pablo adored his father.
From what he said, Josep was well connected, and not only with the Catalan Communists.
Amelia felt flattered that a Communist militant of his importance would show interest in her opinions, and would listen to her. Above all, Josep dedicated a large period of the time he spent with us to our indoctrination, using us for his own purposes, convincing us that the future would belong to the Communists and that the Russian Revolution was only the beginning of a great world revolution that no human force would be able to hold back.
“Do you know why the revolution will triumph? Because there are more of us, yes, we are more numerous than ever. There are more of us who have a great treasure in our control, the force of our labor. The world cannot turn without us. We are progress. Who will make the machines turn? The rich bosses? If you knew how they live in the Soviet Union, the advances they’ve made in less than twenty years... Since April Moscow has had underground trains, a metro that runs for eighty-two kilome
ters; although this is important, it’s more important that the stations are decorated with works of art, with chandeliers, with paintings and frescoes on the walls... and all of this put in place for the workers, who have never had the chance to see a painting, or stand under the light of these fine crystal lights... This is the spirit of the revolution...”
Amelia didn’t dare take the next step, but I did, and asked Josep to support me in my application to join the Communists. What else could a girl like me do, a girl born in the mountains, who had been a worker ever since I’d been able to think?
One afternoon Lola left a message for us in her house that we should meet with her and Josep and some Communist comrades that evening.
Amelia didn’t know how to tell Santiago that she’d be out that night, especially as the fighting in the street between the left and the right was continuous, and always resulted in someone being wounded, if not killed.
“I should never have gotten married,” Amelia complained. “I can’t go anywhere without asking Santiago.”
In fact, her husband was not party to her political investigations, but going out alone at night was more than could be permitted. But she had always been very obstinate, so that when Santiago came home she declared openly her decision to go to Lola’s house to meet some of her and Josep’s Communist friends.
They had an argument, which Santiago won.
“But what are you thinking? Do you think that with everything that’s happening I’m going to let you go out past the bullring to Lola’s house with people we don’t know? If you don’t care about me, if you don’t even care about yourself, at least think about our child. You have no right to put him in harm’s way. Some friends this Lola and Josep are, to invite a pregnant woman out into Madrid at night!”
Santiago did not give way, and although Amelia tried to change his mind, first with blandishments and caresses, then with tears, and finally by shouting, she did not in the end dare to leave the house without her husband’s approval.
The political situation got worse by the day, and for all his efforts, Niceto Alcalá Zamora, the President of the Republic, could not create any kind of consensus between the CEDA and the parties of the Left.
Joaquín Chapaprieta, who had been the Treasury Secretary, ended up being asked by Alcalá Zamora to form a government, which failed like the others.
I remember that we went to dine at the Carranzas’ one Sunday. I think that it was in October, because Amelia was already in the last stages of her pregnancy, and she was upset to see herself fat and clumsy.
Don Manuel and Doña Blanca had invited all of the Garayoas, not just Amelia’s parents but also Don Armando and Doña Elena, so the cousins were there as well: Melita, Laura, and little Jesús.
If I remember this meal it is because Amelia very nearly went into labor.
Don Juan was more worried than usual because he had received a letter from the man who had until recently been his employee, Herr Helmut Keller, in which he explained in detail what the September 1935 Nuremburg Laws meant. Helmut was worried, because according to the new laws, only those who had “pure” blood were deemed German; everyone else was no longer considered a German citizen. Marriage was forbidden between Jews and Aryans. Keller also thought that the time had come for Herr Itzhak Wassermann and his family to leave Germany, although he had not managed to persuade them to do so, even though there were many Jewish families who had emigrated out of fear of what was happening. Keller begged Don Juan to try to convince Herr Wassermann.
“I’ve thought I should go to Germany. I have to get Itzhak and his family out of there, I’m scared for his life,” Don Juan said.
“It could be dangerous!” Doña Teresa exclaimed.
“Dangerous? Why? I am not a Jew.”
“But Herr Itzhak is, and look at what happened to your business, they ruined it, you’ve been without any German company buying or selling material from you for months, they’ve even accused you of fraud.” Doña Teresa was very scared.
“I know, my dear, I know, but they haven’t been able to prove anything.”
“But even so they’ve closed the warehouse.”
“You must understand that I have to go.”
“If you’ll allow me to speak, I think your wife is right.” Don Manuel’s powerful voice broke into the argument between Don Juan and Doña Teresa. “My friend, you must resign yourself to the loss of your business in Germany; you’ve paid the price for having a partner whom the new regime does not like. I don’t think you’ll sort anything out by going there, they should try to leave Germany on their own.”
They got into a debate in which Amelia supported her father so forcefully that she ended up insisting that she herself would accompany her father to rescue Herr Itzhak and his family, and that it was a cowardly act to leave them to their fate. She got so worked up that she ended by feeling indisposed and we worried about her state.
Javier was born at the beginning of November. Amelia went into labor early in the morning of November 3, but did not bring her son into the world until the following day. How she cried! The poor girl suffered terribly, and this was with the constant assistance of two doctors and a midwife.
Santiago suffered with her. He beat furiously against the wall to find some kind of outlet for the impotence he felt at being unable to help his wife.
In the end it was a forceps birth, but Amelia was nearly killed. Javier was wonderful, a healthy baby, large and thin, who came into the world extremely hungry and who bit his fists in desperation.
Amelia lost a lot of blood during the birth and took more than a month to recover, for all that everyone spoiled her, especially Santiago. Nothing was too much for his wife, but Amelia appeared sad and indifferent to everything that was going on around her; she cheered up only when she saw her cousin Laura or Lola. Then it seemed that the light came back into her eyes and she became interested in the conversation again. In those days Laura had become engaged to a young lawyer, the son of some friends of her parents, and all the signs pointed to a wedding. As far as Lola was concerned, whenever she came to visit Amelia insisted that they be left alone together, something that Santiago accepted so as not to go against his wife’s wishes.
Lola brought news of Josep and other comrades whom Amelia had met. And Amelia asked her how the preparations for the revolution were progressing, that great revolution Josep had spoken about and in which Amelia wanted to participate.
As time went by, Lola seemed to trust more in Amelia, and let her in on little secrets about Josep, and his important position among the Catalan Communists.
“And why are you a Socialist and not a Communist?” Amelia asked her, not understanding why she did not share Josep’s political militancy.
“You don’t have to be a Communist to realize the achievements of the Soviet Revolution; anyway, I’m a Socialist by tradition: My father was one, he knew Pablo Iglesias... and I am a supporter of Largo Caballero, he also admires the Bolsheviks. What’s happened is that Prieto and the other Socialist leaders are opposed to Largo Caballero; they aren’t workers like he is, and they can’t understand what we want...”
These were fragments of a conversation that I overheard while I was serving them their tea. I was the only one who could interrupt them, not even Águeda was allowed to go into Amelia’s room.
Ay, Águeda! She was Javier’s wet nurse. They brought her down from Asturias because Amaya, my mother, could not find a Basque wet nurse, like Doña Teresa or even Amelia herself would have wanted.
Águeda was a ruddy-faced woman, tall, with chestnut hair and eyes the same color. She was not married, but a guy from the mines had left her pregnant, and she had had the great misfortune to lose her child when he was very young. Some friends of Don Juan recommended her as a nanny for Javier, and she arrived in our house barely a week after burying her son.
She was a good woman, caring and kind, who treated Javier as if he were her own son. Silent and obedient, Águeda was like a beneficent ghost
in the house, and all of us grew fond of her. It was a relief for Santiago to see his son so well cared for, given Amelia’s apathy: Not even her son could cheer her up.
Given Amelia’s weakness, Christmas that year was celebrated at the home of Don Juan and Doña Teresa. Santiago’s family understood that this was best for Amelia, who was in no state to be the hostess of such an important event.
Amelia and Santiago’s house was only three blocks away from the Garayoas’, so it was no great effort for Amelia to go to her parents’ house.
It made you envious to see all the Garayoas, Don Juan’s brother Don Armando, his wife Doña Elena and their children, Melita, Laura and Jesús, along with the Carranza family, Santiago’s parents.
With my mother’s help, Doña Teresa took great pains with the meal. That Christmas was special for me as well, it was the last one I spent with my mother. It had been decided; she would go back to the farm after Christmas, and her departure meant that I would be alone in Madrid.
My brother Aitor’s work was going well, and he insisted that my mother should stop looking after other people and should instead look after our grandparents and our little plot of land. Land was as important for my mother as it was for Aitor; at that time I felt myself to be sufficiently Communist as to be able to look at the world with a little more perspective, seeing it as a place where everything was everybody’s for the use of everyone, and no one apart from the People owned the land, and it did not matter where you were born, because one’s property was the whole world, and one’s family was the workers of the world.
Tell Me Who I Am Page 9
