Latin American Literature in Translation Series
Other Books in the Series:
The Enlightened Army by David Toscana (2018)
Human Matter
A Fiction
Rodrigo Rey Rosa
Translated by Eduardo Aparicio
University of Texas Press
Austin
© 2009, 2017 by Rodrigo Rey Rosa
English translation copyright © 2019 by the University of Texas Press
All rights reserved
Project editor: Lynne Chapman
Cover design: Isaac Tobin
Interior typesetting: Cassandra Cisneros
Typeset in Adobe Garamond Pro
Book cover printed by Phoenix Color, interior by Sheridan Books
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Rey Rosa, Rodrigo, 1958–, author. | Aparicio, Eduardo, translator.
Title: Human matter / Rodrigo Rey Rosa ; translated by Eduardo Aparicio.
Other titles: El material humano. English
Description: Austin : University of Texas Press, 2019. | Series: Latin American Literature in Translation series
Identifiers: LCCN 2018034576
ISBN 978-1-4773-1646-7 (pbk. : alk. paper)
ISBN 978-1-4773-1864-5 (library e-book)
ISBN 978-1-4773-1865-2 (nonlibrary e-book)
Subjects: LCSH: Guatemala—History—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PQ7499.2.R38 M3813 2019 | DDC 863/.64—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018034576
doi:10.7560/316467
For Marta García Salas
Though it may not seem to be,
though it may not want to seem to be,
this is a work of fiction.
Contents
Introduction
First Notebook: Modo & Modo
Second Notebook: Black Binding
Pages Attached to the Second Notebook
First Sketchbook: Green Cover with Indian Motifs
Pages Attached to the First Sketchbook
Third Notebook: White Cover
Second Sketchbook: Don Quixote
Fourth Notebook: Red and Blue Stripes on a White Background
Pages Attached to the Fourth Notebook
Third Sketchbook: “Scribe”
Fourth Sketchbook: Leather Cover, No Branding, No Name
Fifth Sketchbook: Spanish Binding
Author’s Note
Postscript
Translator’s Acknowledgments
Introduction
Shortly before I became aware of the existence of the famous Archive that I’ve been wanting to work on, in the very early hours of June 17, 2005, a fire and a series of explosions partially destroyed an ammunition depot belonging to the National Army outside of Guatemala City, where approximately one ton of missiles of various calibers was stored, part of the supplies left over from the domestic war that began in 1960 and ended in 1996. An official from the Human Rights Ombudsman’s Office was assigned to investigate the existence of other ammunition depots that could pose a similar danger. He visited the facilities at La Isla, in the northernmost end of the city, a complex of police buildings that includes the Police Academy, a criminal investigation center, a vast dump of wrecked vehicles, the police canine unit, an abandoned hospital, and the ammunition depot. Mysteriously, the explosive devices (sticks of dynamite, grenades, mortars) that were supposed to be stored there had disappeared the day before the investigation. However, in an adjacent building, which had perhaps operated as a hospital but which according to the investigators at the Ombudsman’s Office was used as a torture center (the windows in almost every room had been sealed with bricks or cinder blocks), the investigator from the Ombudsman’s Office discovered a room full of papers, files, boxes, and bags of police documents. This was true of almost all the rooms and halls on the first and second floors of this building and other adjacent structures.
When the National Police was dismantled following the peace accords signed in 1996, someone ordered the transfer to this site of the Archive from the former National Police headquarters and from other regional police stations, and the eighty million–plus documents presently housed at the Archive—including record books dating from the 1890s—had stayed hidden since then, until July 6, 2005, when the local press reported the unlikely and fortunate discovery.
When I first interviewed the head of the Archive Recovery Project, my intent was to find out about cases of intellectuals and artists who were the subject of police investigation—or who had collaborated with the police as informers or accusers—in the twentieth century. But in view of the chaotic state of the material (“It will take about fifteen years to classify the documents,” the chief told me), that idea had to be discarded as impracticable. However, he himself invited me to visit the Archive and mentioned a department that might be of special interest, the Identification Bureau, which had been preserved, almost miraculously—if not in its entirety, at least in good part, and all in one place. In addition, the documents it contained covered a wide span of time and had already been cataloged in their entirety.
For several weeks after the Archive was found, no one had noticed the existence of the cards and files that had belonged to this Bureau. Between two buildings of the former hospital complex, there was a mound of earth marked by the trail made by the wheelbarrows that would come and go, loaded with documents that were being relocated for cleaning, cataloging, and digitizing. Shortly after the rainy season, with the onset of the drought, the surface of the mound, where the grass had already been growing, cracked slightly, and someone saw that underneath the soil there were papers, cards, photographs. The traffic of wheelbarrows was immediately stopped, and the papers were examined. They turned out to be the police identity files and other documents that make up the vestiges of the Bureau. If I was interested in seeing this—the chief told me—he would authorize me to enter the Archive, and perhaps, he added, after seeing the Bureau I could visit other sections. For my own safety, and because some of the cases opened after 1970 could still be active or pending in court, he asked me not to consult any documents dated after that year.
On the day of my first visit to the Archive I met Ariadna Sandoval, a twenty-three-year-old archivist. Her job was to clean and catalog the documents belonging to the Identification Bureau.
“At the foot of the records originating from the different police bodies and received at the Bureau, there is a name that will appear constantly: Benedicto Tun. He founded the Bureau himself, in 1922, and worked there classifying and analyzing files until 1970, when he retired. He was the only Bureau chief all those years. Maybe this could serve as a connecting thread for your . . . research?” Ariadna said to me as she showed me the boxes where she had been storing the recovered files for almost a year.
I began to frequent the Archive as a kind of entertainment, and as I usually do when I have nothing to write, nothing really to say, during those days I filled a series of notebooks, sketchbooks, and loose sheets with simple impressions and observations. Every morning for almost three months I traveled from the southernmost to the northernmost end of Guatemala City to visit the Archive. I suppose those who were employed there—both the humanities majors and the former rebels-turned-archivists involved in the cleaning and cataloging of the documents, as well as the police officers who watched over them—saw me as a tourist or an inconvenient and opportunistic latecomer. For my part, beyond the informati
on I had hoped to obtain in that maze of millions of police records accumulated for more than a century and preserved by chance, the circumstances and the atmosphere at the Archive in La Isla, after that initial visit, had started to seem like something out of a novel, or perhaps something that could even be turned into a novel, a kind of micro-chaos, the telling of which could serve as a coda for the singular danse macabre of our last century.
First Notebook: Modo & Modo
Thursday, December 14, 9 a.m. At the Archive.
I decide to make a list of the most striking or grotesque records. I suppose that this task, as Ariadna suggested, would have a kind of Kafkaesque quality to it, and could provide a glimpse into a man, clerk Benedicto Tun, with no college degree, whose long and peculiar criminological trajectory in a country with a political history as turbulent as Guatemala is something of a feat.
The record cards originally used by Tun employed the Vucetich system, which could include, in addition to the name and fingerprints of the persons involved, the reason for initiating a record on them, their place of residence, marital status, profession and background, and any special observations. This system underwent some modifications in 1931 (such as the introduction of cards to replace strips of paper), and in 1969 the Henry system was imposed by the US Embassy—so that American investigators could interpret the records without difficulty. In that system only a person’s name, age, and fingerprints are recorded. In addition, beginning in 1971, all men in Guatemala, upon reaching adulthood and requesting their national identity card, became a part of a database housed at the Identification Bureau, which the government of Guatemala shared with the US government, according to a document preserved in the Identification Bureau. Both systems designate a place for the photograph of the accused, and more than a few of these photos have been preserved.
The records are on yellowed 4" × 6" cards, which have now been nibbled away by humidity and the passage of time. At the bottom of almost all the ones that I have reviewed is the seal and signature of Benedicto Tun.
Second Notebook: Black Binding
Fate is always excessive: it punishes a moment of distraction, the random act of making a left instead of a right, sometimes with death.
BORGES, quoted by BIOY CASARES
Archive. Thursday afternoon.
I. POLITICAL CRIMES
• Aguilar Elías, León, born in 1921. Black, slim, straight black hair, half of right big toe missing. Booked in 1948 for criticizing the Supreme Government of the Revolution, in 1955 for allegedly claiming communist sympathies.
• Aguirre Cook, Natsuel, born in 1925. Office clerk, married. Booked in July 1954 for being a communist. (On the verso and attached sheet): Charged as one the most dangerous communist leaders, right-hand man to Carlos Manuel Pellicer. Agitator in the rural areas of Chicacao and Suchitepéquez, and accomplice in the death of the local mayor. He later operated a clandestine radio station out of the San Julián estate in Tiquisate. Under the administration of Dr. Juan José Arévalo, he was employed in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Detained when requesting a driver’s license.
• Ávila Aroche, Jesús, born in 1931. Black. (1.86 m.) Marimba player. Single. Lives with his mother. Booked for shining shoes without a license. Charged with larceny in March 1962. With theft in December 1962. With kidnapping in 1963.
• Aguilar García, Benito. Born in 1923 in Escuintla. Single. Lives with mother and brothers. Booked in 1948 when seeking to enlist with the Civil Guard. Discharged and transferred to the National Committee Against Communism in 1955 for being part of the Civil Guard platoon that was sent to Puerto Barrios as a punitive expedition under the command of Lieutenant Cornelio Lone Mejía in June of 1954 to carry out acts of genocide (in the last days of the Revolutionary Government).
• Barrientos, Luis Alfredo. Born in 1924. Journalist. Booked in 1956 for demonstrating. In 1958 for spreading outlandish ideas.
• Chávez Zacarías, Horacio. Born in 1930. Booked for being an agitator at El Porvenir farm.
• Cao Chub, Sebastián. Born (date unknown). Lives with his concubine Isidra Caal. Laborer. Illiterate. Booked in 1957 for causing a fire on Ricardo Kreb’s property.
• Cotón, Ramírez. Born in 1927 in Malacatán, San Marcos. Booked for being a liaison between communist nationals and exiles in Mexico.
• Cabrera García, Leopoldo. Born in 1931. Classical musician. Booked without a motive in 1956.
• Cante Villagrán, Balvino. Born in 1930. Tiler. Booked in 1950 for no reason.
• Castillo Román, Jorge. Born in 1920. Chauffeur. Booked in 1955 for being a communist.
• Chacón Lara, Miguel. Born in 1926. Tinsmith (in Antigua). Booked in 1943 for insubordination.
• Coronado Coro, Álvaro. Born in 1940. Telegraph operator. Booked in 1962 for sabotage.
• Díaz Paredes, Fausto. Born in 1945. Tractor driver. Booked in 1970 for attacks against democratic institutions and possession of war supplies. For robbery, plagiarism, and murder in 1972.
• Figueroa Estrada, Rafael. Born in 1924 in the capital. Farmer. Booked in 1955 for being a terrorist.
• Figueroa Vides, Rodolfo. Born in 1930. Journalist. Married. Booked for no reason in 1956.
• Fajardo Pérez, Antonio. Born in 1937. Student, lives with his mother. Booked in 1956 for sedition and rebellion.
• García Soto, Gonzalo. Born in 1930. Bricklayer’s helper. Booked in 1960 for violating curfew.
• García, Domínguez. Born in 1927. Driver. Booked in 1964 for possession of explosives.
• Gallardo Ordóñez, Mario. Born in 1929. Leatherworker. Booked in 1959 for distributing subversive propaganda.
• Galvez Sandoval, María Virginia. Born in 1932. Teacher without a degree. Booked in 1954 for being affiliated with the Party for Revolutionary Action.
• Gudiel López, María Luisa. Born in 1934. Lives with her parents. Booked in 1956 for weapons possession.
• Hernández Carrillo, Víctor. Born in 1910 in Puerto Barrios. Fisherman. Booked in 1963 for theft of telephone cable.
• Ingenieros Fernández, Pablo. Born in 1950. Auto body repair worker. Booked for desecrating the national flag.
• Lorenzana Marcio, Iván. Born in 1935. Lives with mother and brothers in Zone 1. Draftsman. Booked in 1960 for possession of war supplies.
• Molina López, Efraín. Born in 1932. Typographer. Booked in 1960 for allegedly being responsible for a bomb explosion.
• Méndez Arriaza, Pedro. Born in 1925. Dental technician. Booked in 1961 for subversive activities.
• Nadal Chinchilla, Manuel de Jesús. Born in 1930. Single. Classical musician. Booked in 1955 for being a communist sympathizer.
• Ochoa Santizo, Jorge. Born in 1943. Auto body repair worker. Booked in 1960 for suspicious activity. Lives with his mother, a whore.
Friday.
II. COMMON CRIMES
• Velásquez Vásquez, Salvador. Born in 1925. Shoeshine. Booked in 1937 for participating in forbidden games. In 1940 for theft. Set free in 1941.
• Menchú Flavian, Juan. Born in 1924. Merchant. Booked in 1940. Peddler without a license.
• Papandreas Kaleb, Jorge. Born in 1927. Student. Booked in 1942 for disobeying his father. In 1965 for fraud and death threats.
• Rosales Vidal, Francisco. Born in 1925. Typographer. Booked in 1940 for playing soccer on public streets.
• Figueroa García, Florentino. Born in 1925. Shoeshine. Lives alone. Booked in 1945 (Revolutionary Government) for shining shoes without a license.
• Castañeda Contreras, Catalina. Born in 1926. Domestic worker. Booked in 1940 for practicing clandestine prostitution at home and in La Selecta restaurant.
• Mejía de Mendizábal, Julia. Born in 1920. Home address Aurora Alley, #11. Booked in 1940 for attempted murder of her husband, Gabriel Mendizábal.
• Masserli R., Carlos Fernando. Born in 1926. Lives with his parents. Apprentice mechanic. Booked in 1941 for disobeying his father. In 1948 for pederasty
.
• Chávez A., Luis. Born in 1921. Lives with his family. Booked in 1940 for vagrancy. In 1954 for theft.
• Herrera Hernández, Petrona. Born in 1925. Lives alone. Domestic worker. Booked in 1941 for stealing a poncho, a sheet, a dress, and a mat from Mr. Justo Espada España.
• Sarceño O., Juan. Born in 1925. Gardener. Lives with his sister. Booked in 1945 (Revolutionary Government) for dancing the tango in the brewery “El Gaucho,” where it is prohibited.
• Funes Coronado, Víctor. Born in 1923 in Champerico. Single. Booked in 1942 for fishing with a cast net during closed season.
• Marroquín Cardona, Vicente. Born in 1926. No profession. Booked in 1939 for complicity in bicycle theft.
• Chávez Coronado, María. Born in 1924 (a minor). Profession: sex worker. She has neither children nor a known male partner. Illiterate. Arrested in August 1939 in Barberena for performing lewd acts in public.
• Pineda C., Marta. Born in 1914. No permanent address. Booked in 1945 for exercising clandestine free love. Additional information: unbearable and insulting woman. She lives alone.
• Carranza Ávila, Rosa María. Born in 1920. Domestic worker. Booked in 1944 for committing adultery in her home.
• García Aceituno, Francisca. Born in 1925. Profession: sex worker. Booked in 1940 for selling sweets without a license.
• Santos Aguilar, Perfecta. Born in 1922. Booked in 1943 for having a venereal disease.
• Robles M., Ana Lucrecia. Born in 1932. Without a trade. Booked in 1944 for peddling milk without a license.
• Aceytuno Salvador, Luis Fabio. Born in 1920 in Santa Cruz, El Quiché. Booked in 1939 for cohabiting with a sow.
• Castillo, Bartolo. Born in 1899. Carpenter. Booked in 1933. Accused by Laureano E. Girón of killing a man a long time ago, and for fraud amounting to $14,000 when he was mayor of Azacualpa.
• Echevarría C., Dionisio Mauricio. Born in 1930. Booked in 1958 for complicity in theft of chickens.
Human Matter Page 1
