• Cabrera, David (son of Rómulo Zamora and Socorro Zamora). Born in 1925. No profession. Booked in 1934 for begging.
• Vásquez V., Mariano. Born in 1923. Farmer. Booked in 1935 for loitering on street corners and for vagrancy.
• Charnaud, José Luis. Born in 1910. Student. Booked in 1935 for document forgery.
• Rabanales Morales, Mario. Born in 1920. Printer. Booked in 1944 for loitering on street corners and for mocking the motherland.
• Mejía Melgar, José. Born in 1920. Shoemaker. Booked in 1945 for pickpocketing at the town festival in Pasaco.
• Espinoza G., Silvia. Born in 1918. Booked in 1936 for assault, scratches and blows to Dolores Aceituno.
• Castillo F., Ricardo. Born in 1914. Florist. Booked in 1941 for recidivist loitering.
• Carrillo Soto, Encarnación. Born in 1921. Farm worker. Booked in 1944 for assault and for being an alleged rustler.
• Quiroa G., Ramiro. Born in 1929 in Escuintla. Office worker.
• Nils Martínez, Otto. Born in 1937. Typographer. Booked in 1952 for vagrancy and for frequenting brothels while underage.
• Galindo Méndez, Francisco. Born in 1915 in Tecpán. Painter. Booked in 1937 for vagrancy and for being incorrigible. In 1938 for disorderly conduct while drunk. In 1944 for abandonment of home (being the father of two children).
• Serrano E., Vicente. Born in 1926. Booked in 1937 for shining boots without a license.
• Lemus J., Carlos. Born in 1920. No profession. Booked in 1938 for theft. In 1942 for illegal gambling. In 1959 for possession of drugs. In 1961 for attempted fraud.
• García Castro, Ángela. Born in 1924. Booked in 1938 for witchcraft practices in house #12, Avenida de la Industria, Zone 9.
• Reyes Campos, Dolores. Born in 1920. Domestic worker. Single. Booked for practicing witchcraft.
• Izil Yaguas, José Juan. Born in (date unknown). Lives alone and has no fixed address. Booked in 1938 for not wearing an apron while selling bread.
• Aguliar C., Pedro. Born in 1922. Booked in 1938 for attempted rape of Bernarda Reyes, twelve years old. In 1946 for theft.
• Caal Mocú, Julia. Born in 1921 in Cobán. Domestic worker. Lives with her mom. Booked in 1939 for harming trees on public walks.
• Petronilo, Moreira. (Black, round face.) Born in 1923 in Lívingston. Laborer. Booked in 1939 for mob fighting.
• Navarro G., Ignacio. Born in (does not know the date). Acrobat. Widower. Booked in 1939 for assaulting Mr. Francisco García.
• Ortega B., Enrique. He was born in 1921 in Mazatenango. Farm owner. Booked in 1950 for whipping his wife.
• Larios M., Manuel. Born in 1921 in Sololá. Day laborer. Booked in 1939 for contraband of alcohol. Clay implements were confiscated from him.
• Ucelo H., Lorenzo. Born in 1921 in San José Pinula. Farm laborer. Booked in 1938 for having set fire to a mountain.
• García G., Paulino. Born in 1920. Waiter. Booked in 1938 for insubordination against Andrés Caicedo, his boss.
• Cáceres, Diega de. (Black race.) Born in (does not know the date) in Lívingston. Midwife. Booked for practicing without a license.
• Us Castro, Gregorio. Born in (does not know the date). Day laborer. Single. Attention: He is in a conjugal relationship with Juana Quintanilla, has three children and a brother who is mute. Booked in 1938 for being a dishonest worker at the Milan estate.
• Godoy O., Mario. Born in 1920. Student. Arrested for impertinence.
• Ramírez y Ramírez, Anacleto. Born in 1920 in Jutiapa. Day laborer. Single. Booked for stealing twenty-five quetzals from Jesús Álvarez.
• Ochaeta F., Armando. Born in 1921 in Flores, Petén. Tailor. Booked at the request of his brother Genaro Ochaeta, for threatening him with a penknife.
• Ortiz V., René. Born in 1922. Student. Booked in 1947 for shooting with a blowpipe in the Lux movie theater.
• Valdés P., Sergio Estuardo. Born in 1931. Photographer. Booked in 1952 for releasing a vulture in the Capitol movie theater.
• Mazariegos Piedrasanta, Gerardo. Born in 1920 in Xela. Classical musician. Detained in 1939 in Retalhuleu for illegal gambling.
• Pérez Gonzáles, Pedro. Born in (does not know the date) in Retalhuleu. Detained in 1940 in San Marcos for complicity in the contraband of opium.
• Pérez Gómez, Alejandro. Born in 1923 in Antigua. Day laborer. Booked for carrying a rubber sling, a club, and a penknife. He has no ID. Lives alone.
• Monzón López, José. Born in 1921. Day laborer. Arrested for not carrying any kind of a municipal tax receipt or his employment log.
• Méndez V., Raúl. Born in 1929. Student (minor). Booked in 1940 at the request of his grandmother, for misbehavior. In 1945 for drunk and disorderly conduct. In 1950 for rape. In 1955 for requesting admission into the Civil Guard.
• Vizcaíno Rojas, Rodolfo. Born in 1921 in Guatemala City. Student. Booked in 1943 for theft and for slapping his mother.
• Mendoza M., Dolores. Born in 1927 in Tiquisate. Domestic worker. Resides in the Hospital of Tiquisate. Booked for immoral acts at a public dance.
• Ramírez M., Eusebia. Born in 1925 in Escuintla. Signed in 1942 for practicing free love.
• Brown, Alfredo. Black race. Born (does not know the date) in New York, USA. Sailor. He does not speak Spanish. Booked in 1939 for quarreling with Marcus Müller.
• Flores, Rolando. Mulatto. Born in (does not know the date). Day laborer. Resides at Petén farm, in Tiquisate. Arrested for defamation. He claimed to have had intercourse with Carmen Morales, who at the request of her mother underwent medical examination, confirming her virginity.
• Figueroa Santiago, Boluciano. Born in 1927. Tailor. Booked in 1955 for challenging someone to a duel.
• Gálvez Ravanales, María. Born in (does not know the date). Domestic worker. Single. Booked in 1956 for marijuana trafficking.
• Zamora del Valle, Salvador. Born in 1929. Shoemaker. Booked in 1963 for marijuana trafficking.
• Barreondo Flores, Tomás. Born in 1927 in Guatemala City. Student (minor). Booked in 1937 for marijuana trafficking.
• Urrutia R., Jorge. Born in 1935 in Guatemala City. Classical musician. Booked in 1956 for promoting the use of illegal drugs.
• Arrivillaga P., Delfino Bernardino. Born in 1927. Day laborer in San Martín Jilotepeque. Booked in 1955 for practicing sorcery.
• Barrientos Ortiz, Jorge. Born in 1926 in Guatemala City. Baker. Single. Booked in 1955 for practicing sorcery.
• Ninassi Tacchi, Giuseppe. Italian. Booked in 1955 for being a member of a band of counterfeiters who forged bank notes and checks, captured in the Republic of Honduras in September of 1955.
• Tacaús López, Máximo. Born in 1928. Weaver. Lives alone in Totonicapán. Booked in 1953 because he consumes liquor with other individuals who specialize in undressing drunken night owls.
• Marroquín P., Santiago. Born in 1923 in Santa Catarina Pinula. Farmer. Booked in 1953 for growing marijuana.
• Reyes V., Dionisia. Born in 1931 in El Progreso. Booked for the homicide of her younger brother, Januario Reyes, with a shotgun.
• Guillermo Elezcano, Lorenzo. Spaniard. Born in 1931. Farmer in the Matamoros Valley. Single. Booked in 1960 before being expelled from the country as undesirable.
• Mejía Paz, José Gaspar. Born in 1933 in Totonicapán. Farmer. Booked in 1950 for killing Mr. Antonio Sac Mon, with a stick. Attention: He has a thirty-year-old brother whose name is also Gaspar and who is also in prison.
• Chacón F., Gumercinda. Born in 1930 in the capital city. Domestic worker. Single. Booked for practicing occult sciences.
• Ballesteros Noya, Pancracio. Born in 1927 in Alajuela, Costa Rica. Tailor and artist. Lives with Virginia Castellanos. Has two children. Booked in 1958 for exercising palmistry and fortunetelling, swindling the public. He also exploits ladies of the night.
• Marroquín Alvizures, Marco Antonio. Born in 1933. Office cler
k. Booked for publishing obscenities.
• Carrillo Martínez, Jorge Mario. Born in 1929. Accountant. Booked in 1948 for serious insults and for damaging the blossoms of the flowerbed at the National Palace.
• Flores R., Simón. Born in 1952. Couturier. Booked in 1960 for recidivist streetwalking.
• Carrera Mazariegos, Gilberto. Born in 1920. Hatter. Married, with five children. Booked in 1941 for rape.
• Cervantes M., Procopio. (Strong build.) Born in 1928 in Zacapa. Day laborer. Booked in 1951 for the homicide of J. Paulo Pérez, with a hoe.
• Chacón V., Rafael. Born in 1926. Traveling agent. Married. Booked in 1967 for rape and fraud.
• Perdomo O., José. Born in 1934. No job. Booked in 1958 for theft of an old hammer. In 1964 for violation of the health code.
• Antunes Pérez, Emilia. Born in 1920. Domestic worker in the capital city. Lives with her children. Booked in 1955 for prostitution.
• Novales, Dolores. Born in 1919. Honduran (Puerto Cortez). Booked in 1955 because she wants to leave prostitution and lead an honest life.
Afternoon.
III. POSTMORTEM FILES
† Ruano Coronado, María Consuelo. Born in 1918. Booked in 1937 for marijuana trafficking and possession. Shot dead in 1980.
† XX. Traits: Between thirty-two and thirty-seven years old. Working class look (tailor, merchant, or driver). Dark complexion. Strangled in the street in 1980.
† XX. Traits: Twenty-plus years old. Straight black hair. Concave nose. Shot dead in front of Doresley department store in 1980.
† Zamora Enamorado, José Cecilio. Living in Puerto Barrios. Day laborer. Details: right index finger amputated. Detained November 4, 1961, for contraband. Killed with a sharp object in 1973.
† XX. Hands and feet tied with banana rope, beaten, and thrown into the river. Clarification: When proceeding to fingerprint the aforementioned corpse, I ran into the difficulty that the fingers were shriveled, making it difficult to take rolled impressions, and although I also attempted the injection technique, that too was unsuccessful. I had no choice but to cut off those fingers that I considered best for the purpose. Signature: José Héctor Terraza T., December 7, 1974.
Note: In an envelope attached to this file I found a strip of paper with the printed grid to set the fingerprints. But, instead of the typical ink spots, there were a few pieces of tissue that resembled dried rose petals. Upon closer examination, they turned out to be human skin.
PAGES ATTACHED TO THE SECOND NOTEBOOK
Other professions registered in the files of the Bureau:
Coal merchant
Typist
Drill operator
Plumber
Train brakeman
Stonecutter
Weaver
Mechanic
Travel agent
Railroad worker
Sawyer
Truck assistant
It would not be wise to conclude anything on the basis of the chaotic and capricious information contained in a series of police files that resisted time and weathering by chance. The number of files that were lost or that disintegrated into humus is certainly considerable. But the list shows the arbitrary and often perverse nature of our own unique justice system, which laid the foundations for the widespread violence that was unleashed on the country in the eighties and whose aftermath we are still living. (It helps to remember that misdemeanors, like not carrying the “employment log” that was required of indigenous people dispossessed of their lands by government decree, continued to be penalized in 1944 with forced labor in government works and on private farms—the very farms created with the spoils of the “Indian territories.”) Our own unique system? Back in the eighteenth century, commenting on the treatise On Crimes and Punishments by Cesare Beccaria, Voltaire wrote: “It seems that in times of feudal anarchy, the princes and the lords, being quite poor, tried to increase their treasures by stripping and condemning their vassals, thus creating a revenue stream from their very crime.”
More Voltaire:
The weaknesses brought to light please only malice, unless they instruct by the misfortunes that have followed them or because of the virtues that have repaired them.
What can we think of these errors and many others? Will we just content ourselves with moaning about human nature? There were cases when it was necessary to avenge it.
Not everyone is allowed to commit the same misdeeds.
First Sketchbook: Green Cover with Indian Motifs
Monday, December 18. Midday break at the Archives.
Smell of pork rinds. In a room with windows that overlook a hallway, where I look at identification cards, I overhear an archivist, sensing the smell, telling a colleague:
“It smells of roasted pig, did they kill your husband?” Although some of the girls seem very attractive to me, for the moment I would not be willing to leave my circles, so to speak, for one of them. I think that the opposite is true for L.A. and her ex-partner (or was he a gold digger?).
A little bored, a little frightened. Upset (although also much amused) by some passages in Borges by Bioy that I read during the breaks. On the other hand, resentment toward B+, who has proposed another break. I still miss her. However, when I think about her, I say to myself: “Better that way.”
Tuesday at noon.
They just took me out of the old hospital room, a cool room, although a little damp, where I was working. They have hired a handful of additional archivists to accelerate the cataloging process, and they are now moving work tables around to settle them in. They move me to one of the new wards, with a low roof of sheet metal, where it is very hot. If I did not come here on my own initiative, I would consider complaining. I have the impression that it’s some kind of punishment. There’s no one else in this ward, I suppose because of the heat. Wearing the required latex gloves, my hands sweat profusely. The “canine unit,” which houses about fifty dogs of different breeds, is directly next to me, and the constant and sometimes furious barking is not conducive to concentration. Beyond the kennels, in a vacant lot, there are piles of car wrecks. During one of the breaks (while archivists and police officers play a friendly game of football), I examine the remains of cars that have accumulated over half a century. A Renault split in half catches my eye, as does the fuselage of a Cessna plane, which I suppose crashed somewhere within the city limits. The wind kicks up a small swirl of cream-colored dust.
A burglar alarm goes off somewhere.
Wednesday.
Luis Galíndez, one of the archivists, a few years older than me—a man with a tired look and straight gray hair, with whom I have established a degree of friendship—approaches at break time to give me, surreptitiously, a manila envelope that, he tells me, contains a long list prepared by the Guatemalan Military Police in the eighties and nineties. It contains photos, information, and personal data of individuals who had disappeared (or would disappear) for political reasons. The list, from a secret military file, was “leaked” about a year ago, and although today it is freely accessible (it can be read on a website), Galíndez asks me not to say how I got it. Then he says that next month they will give the workers at the Archive a course on “Violence, Power, and Politics” in Ciudad Vieja. Apparently, if I wish, I can attend. I make the necessary arrangements and register.
Monday. Eight in the morning. Ciudad Vieja.
Dr. Gustavo Novales, who teaches the course, begins by explaining why he decided to study the “sociology of violence.” In the seventies, he had a close call, almost getting kidnapped and tortured because of his “subversive activities.” On that occasion, his parents were captured and tortured to death, just like a neighbor of theirs, who vaguely looked like Dr. Novales, with whom they confused him. Exiled to Mexico, he began studying this subject—he tells us—to “draw some benefit from his experiences as a victim of state violence,” and to find a rationale for the things that happened to him and his family.
Dr. Novales dresses elegantly
in an English style (a short coat, a tweed jacket under it, a sober tie) and presents his points clearly and in a mild-mannered way, but at certain times one can see in his eyes a glow of tamed dogmatism. He divides state terrorism into two categories: state terrorism properly speaking, and revolutionary violence, which is its corollary. Regarding the general causes of violence, he says that it has been a constant “since the dawn of humanity”—take, for example, the struggle of Homo sapiens versus the Neanderthal, which ended with the defeat of Neanderthal man and his extinction.
“Only human beings can be violent. The predatory behavior of animals does not imply violence,” he says.
He delivers the following axioms:
—Every act of violence is an act of power.
—Not every act of power is an act of violence.
—Violence implies the use of physical force.
—Force is not necessary in all cases; the threat alone may suffice, such as the white handprints on the homes of alleged communists in Guatemala in the sixties and seventies.*
—A weak state needs to exercise terror.
Afternoon.
Among the examples of violence as an act of resistance, the doctor mentions:
A riot: An act of collective violence (which can end in lynching) against the embodiment of power or the nearest authority. “This movement is spontaneous, emotional, not premeditated, caused by a feeling of grievance transformed into anger.”
An uprising: It is not ephemeral or spontaneous. It can generate a “revolutionary situation” (that is, one where “those below” can no longer tolerate their living conditions and dominant groups can no longer govern).
A revolution: A generalized uprising that leads to a displacement of power in a nation or in critical geographical areas.
He clarifies that the concept of revolution is ever changing. Today, revolutions tend to be neither violent nor abrupt. Examples: those of Venezuela, Bolivia, and Ecuador.
Tuesday. Eight in the morning.
Cases:
Brazilian dictatorship: 185 disappeared by state terror in twenty years.
Human Matter Page 2
