Inanna has a beautiful way of seeing life, she defends it. She is a simple and kind being. Diana suspects that this is not her name and that she put herself like that to make her fall in love with her as an investigative archaeologist in Iraq; there she will go with her beloved. She will show her what she does not know is the home of Inanna, and everything that is life and strives to move forward. Inanna also does not know that she could be restrained in clay as punishment, until she remembers her work, her mission, her reason for being on Earth and stops falling to the seduction of human beings she meets.
Meanwhile, she and the nature that she must protect, will be at the mercy of human beings.
In pace
Noah was a normal boy, so normal that he detested himself. He despised himself seriously. He had just started college, he was studying Law and was he studying! The high school cost him a lot of work. He had spent whole hours trying to understand integrals, English and chemical formulas.
Man, am I really this f... stupid? was his perpetual question as he impatiently banged his head, making terrible swipes that weakened his self-esteem. According to him, with this phrase, he would encourage himself. He would never finish it. He had learned it from his elementary teacher when he was a child, nor did that teacher usually finish it, but he intuited all the possible words that could translate the despair for his incompetence. If even Antonio Vela understands these “monjas”, why chirriones[9] do not I? Noah would not have said "Madres"[10], he thought he was stupid, but not foul-mouthed, and in his eagerness to not sound foul-mouthed, he managed with phrases that bordered on the childish. In short, "the dumb Antonio Vela". That was another point that irritated his stomach much more than the chips with chamoy that he was always ruminating. Why does even Antonio Vela have a name that everyone remembers, or well, a last name, and I do not? It’s ridiculous.
Noah was, as they say, "everybody’s fool" because when someone had to refer to him, they always invented the first name that came to mind. Of course, they did it to bother him. But he knew well that they did not remember his name anyway.
“Well, fine, Rulo can enter my team”.
“Well then now, send Sancho for the chelas[11]”.
“Excuse me Torombolo, I don’t have the notes yet”.
But the nickname that had already been left after not wanting to bother anymore to find names was Toribio. Toribio here, Toribio there. And well, for Toribio everything was difficult, even his studies. Let’s not even talk about trying to get the attention of his busy parents, and -even worse!- the attention of his older brother, Leonardo, who was enrolled in History and was quite popular at the school where he studied and excelled.
Toribio, I mean, Noah always envied him. Both were good guys, at home they enjoyed the same thing; but Leonardo did not have that continuous regret over his mistakes like the one Noah suffered and learned from his elementary school teacher. That was crucial. And where two cheerful, friendly young Mexicans had to emerge healthy and with love for study only one emerged. Our Noah who did not know what to do with himself. Noah, who always made a storm in any glass of water. Noah who did not have the courage to also choose to study History, because someone told him that he would die of hunger and that this was for mediocre people. They told him that if he wanted to be successful, he should study law. No true friend or adult told him that the law career was over quota, that to get to be titled would become part of an impressive bunch of mediocre people who do not want to be that. It is true that not all those who studied law were that, no. In each career, whoever loves what they study is successful, because they are in their place and speak their own language. And even in these times, there are boys who choose more than one place, for love. But, unfortunately, there are also many like Noah, who choose out of fear, to please, out of fear of the responsibility of their own choice.
His mother was a historian and, as children, he had slept every night with The History, not with stories. In the hour of eating, of traveling, of living together, everything was History; he knew it and understood it, he would have been a good student of History and a great historian. But that had already been chosen by his brother, what would it be like if he chose the same? Poor Noah!
In secret, he read his historical novels and essays. He would hide them among his law books.
One day, not just anyone, Ale, the girl he planned to "conquer" as soon as he gathered the courage and decision invited him to go camping.
And why not? The moon, the forest, the campfire, I would have to be very f... stupid if I do not end the camping trip with a girlfriend, Noah thought that, and having a girlfriend surely was all he needed to be able to concentrate on everything and finally "make things happen". This last means to have total success in life, a fallacy, even he sensed it, but his internal negative voice was so strong.
Noah, or Toribio then, he went to the camping after completing a series of assignments that his "buddies" gave him and that was part of what he had to do for them to consider accepting him again in their activities. "You brought the spikes we asked for, right Toribio?""Chin[12]!" he hit his head"I only forgot that.”"Toribio!, it had to be you, really. Go find some wooden sticks if not, with what do we put up the tent?"
In "punishment" of course, he also had to put up the tent and when he approached the campfire, Ale was already hugging Ray. There all his grandiose romance, concentration and change plans collapsed. Nobody noticed that he sat down and much less that he got up.
He watched them all while they entertained themselves in different ways, nobody appreciated him, he could be there or not, they would never accept him as a friend.
All downcast he went into the forest. He walked for a long time without noticing it, for being absorbed in his usual laments.
He never knew how it was that he fell into a ravine that he had no idea it was there.
The fall felt worse than the bungee[13] of two summers ago. This time it was fifteen meters of feeling only his guts on the chest. Then a terrible blow accompanied by the sound of bones breaking, mortal pain a second and then nothing. An instant later he was already floating and seeing his body full of dirt, blows, blood and twigs. He hit his head. Man, am I really this f... stupid? And what now? He searched everywhere for the happy light that would take him to heaven as in the movie "Ghost"... nothing. He made a quick recount of his sins while peeling his eyes into the shadows in case the ones on the lower side came to take him away...Well, no. And, actually, he thought with the same mediocrity as always, the good thing about doing nothing is that you do not commit sins either. He looked up and to his body. Will my “friends” find me? He pushed himself to fly and he did not even manage a decent jump. Man, am I really this f...?
He set out, then, to climb and when he managed to reach the top - Balls! The face of "güero[14]" Cisneros almost makes him fall again."Holy Sh...!" José Ángel Cisneros shouted when he saw the body of Toribio, or well...Noah, and ran white and cold of fright to warn everyone else shouting like deranged.
Well, at least they did find him. But that was not his body, nor his problem anymore.
His problem was only what to do with his soul, with him, with what he really was.
It was funny to be dead, or so it seemed to Noah, the days passed strangely, sometimes everything went fast and others seemed to go by in slow motion and it could take hours to watch Ale write a word or see a tear sliding down her cheek when she was at the wake.
Oh, because they did mourn. "He once told me..." sobbed Manolo, the most popular of his group in high school"... "Lend me a pencil sharpener. " And all the girls fought to dry his tears.
It was not that it was "funny" to be dead, but now it seemed to be all memories and thought.
His mom was the one who cried and mourned the most. It was unbearable to know that she loved him so much and that he had thought she didn't, ah, well then... she did care. He reflected with emotion while scratching his forehead.
Poor Noah, he had spent so much of his life evaluating what
he was and never paying attention to others, not in the right way. Surely nobody was doing it.
In order not to see his mother's sadness, he would go for a walk, or something that resembled it. He would see everyone trying to find another dead person to tell him what to do, but he never found one. Man, am I really this f... stupid?
He climbed the altars in the churches and shouted with all the strength that his ghost lungs allowed him: Lord! What should I do? – and nothing, not even echo.
He got into his classes, bored and sad, and even went to his old ‘friends’ meetings to see if his new condition had opened his understanding and finally he could understand what in life he had not been able to do about the Law... Well no.
And so many things that I wanted to do, because God I did want to... he said one day, while he was sitting on the path of cempaxúchitl[15] in front of his own dead offering when November arrived. His mom had put his potatoes with chamoy, chewing gum and a tray with several chalupas[16] that he loved. His dad put drumsticks that he had bought for him three years ago and, like everything, he did not "really have a feel for it yet", and his brother put the two books of History that he left halfway and that still had the pieces of newspaper as bookmarks in the pages where he was reading.
If they knew that I cannot open the pages of the books, that I do not even remember the smell of the chalupas and that I cannot get the most basic blows from on the drum set, not even dead. He thought overwhelmed, beating his palms on his ghostly thighs.
Maybe if I had studied History as Leo, it would have been all different, because I loved reading it... but I'm such an idiot that I let myself be convinced that Law was the best option and that I could surpass Leo. Maybe it was good to die, well at least they will remember me in the university. I hope so, but this “being dead” is so boring, and one feels so lonely!
Well, where have all dead people who have already died gotten in?
It was then that the focus was turned on. Get in! Of course! He had already tried to fall asleep in his grave to "supposedly rest in peace" but had not achieved a single "eyelash". So there was only one place to get in... In another human being!
Without thinking too much, he went to Ale, and he was about to become one with her when Ray arrived and planted a huge kiss on her that Toribio, I mean Noah, would have vomited if he had a digestive system to do so.
No, no... No, I think Ale is not the best option. I know, Ray! Sure! So I'm going to kiss Ale like in my dreams, I'll even teach him how to kiss...
Teach that good-for-nothing how to k.... He thought it over again. Do I really want to be part of that good-for-nothing... guy? Nope! Of course not!
He looked at Manolo, He’s the most popular, maybe I'll do something there.
He was already following his brilliant chosen one when he rushed to the bathroom and put dust in his nose.
What!? This popularity will won't last. And what if I cannot get out afterwards?
There he began his most rigorous selection, everybody had some defect or several. This one is poor, that one is short, that's a loser, he says pure nonsense... Man, are they really that f...?
After analyzing the matter for hours and hours, looking at people and despising them more, but much worse than they had despised him while he was alive, he chose his brother. He did not know how it had not occurred to him before, he studied History, that was what he liked a lot, he would have his parents back and his own house, and he was so eager to live and do everything so well that nothing could fail. Night came and he saw his brother go to bed, he did not have enough courage to do what he was going to do.
How will it feel? Is it like being on Mazinger Z? Or neither he nor I will realize and I will be lost forever. How, how will it be?
The next day, Leo got up with a tremendous desire to do everything.
With the best attitude and joy, he went to grab a chalupa from the offering and grabbed one of the three books he had put there. He smiled thinking about the common tastes he had had with his brother and that he did not know.
He ran to the university, but not before giving a big kiss to his mother who was stunned wondering what or who would have gotten into his son.
The life of this boy, Leo, was good, interesting and productive, from that day on, yeah, it was good, but it was also strange.
He did not become the best in the world, not even his population, a bit of the University. He graduated with honors and was always a pride for his "Alma Mater". But what surprised his parents and friends the most was that he put all his effort into everything he did. He did not hesitate to decide what he wanted and what was best for him and his family.
Yet, in those few moments when he was desperate and it was really very unusual, then he would bang his head and exclaim:
—Man, am I really this f... stupid?
-END-
WHAT IF YOU DIED TODAY?
Some personal considerations about the Day of the Dead in Mexico.
“The Mexican laughs at death”.
This phrase is frequently heard throughout the world, especially in Mexico, and when it happens in Mexico, the average Mexican sends out a cry that makes him think he sounds like Pedro Infante and sips a little pulque, tequila or beer. (Of course, there are also those who drink vodka with grape juice, rum with cola, white wine from California, Italian wine and, as the RAE[17] says, güisqui).
The really sad thing is that the Mexican does not laugh at death, he is scared of it, it is what he fears the most.
"But the offerings, and the sugar skulls and the literary satirical compositions called Calaveras!" You will tell me.
And I will say: "That's why!".
The religious, political and social systems in Mexico allow Mexicans to behave badly, as bad as they want, they can do it, in the end, they will confess with the priest or pay their fines and they will be saved; they will die and they will have their offering.
The human being, all of us, have an integrated desire to transcend, we come with the knowledge that we will die, I do not say it, it is not a new idea. However, we all want the same thing, that is, to Live Forever, or well, as much as possible. How much is that? Let's not ask, especially not in Mexico, it's scary! Or as moms say: "Shut up, m’ijo[18], do not talk about that.."
At what point will the memory of what I am be completely erased?
That is why we, Mexicans, have a treaty -not expressed- that consists in helping us each other to transcend. Everyone can completely ignore what is said about hell, the Mexican does not believe in hell; if that were true, he would lose his essence. We all lie, millions fornicate, we all say the name of God in vain, very few sanctify the feasts, many dishonor their parents (and their children). I think that everyone, at least once in a lifetime, desires the woman of another man. Hell was not enough scarecrow to prevent us from having wrong behavior.
The Mexican, then, has to do something with his fear for his infinite errors and his immanent desire to transcend. The pact is then: I behave badly, yes, but I will not be accusing everyone else of the evil they do, in return, they will not accuse me.
Finally, what is wrong? An adventure? But if a huge percentage of the songs that the Mexican listens to are about how beautiful it is to have a love affair, and another huge percentage are songs of spite or hatred, the rest is a miscellany of "love". What I want to say is: if it were necessary to prohibit in Mexico the lyrics of songs that contradict the 10 commandments of the Catholic religion (the supposed predominant religion) then the Mexicans would make an armed revolution!
And so, what can the poor Mexican do? If television proposes that the intensity of life depends on the problems you have and that you laugh at as many stupidities as possible, how is one going to transcend between that noise and our own conscience that all is asking for is that one can spend life excusing oneself and blaming others for own mediocrity or bad decisions? By making one’s death an eternal party, a party that everyone else is obliged to perform at least once a year, in reality, there a
re two; the other is on the anniversary of one's death.
The mournful anniversaries usually have a lot of affluence, we must pay the quota for our secret pact, (that one that is not said but that we know well):
“If I make mistakes in life, no matter how many, you should pray for my soul, so that I may abandon the hell that I clearly deserve. If I manage to abandon it, maybe my liberated soul, once in heaven, will ask for the good of others, regardless of their intentions or actions, I will repay that debt”.
This compels thelighting candles for the "souls of purgatory", (another infallible practice to ensure forgiveness and transcendence), that they are very revered entities in Mexico, and that they are different from what in Asia are known as ancestors, because the ancestors are honorable people who have died; people that, with the wisdom of their own life, will be able to guide those who still live. In Mexico, it’s not this way; since we were little we have that “¡Échame aguas!” [19]That petition that we use to plead to be covered before a duly erroneous action. A traitor is the one who makes you look bad and you are bound to hate him and hurt him in response to his betrayal. It does not matter if it made you look bad because you were doing wrong! But that is not the point! The point is that he betrayed the pact and in Mexico, the "cowards" are not accepted, the mama’s boy, to those who think they are saints, the a**holes. In Mexico we venerate the bastard and the bastard, as much has been said and you perfectly know ¡chinga![20]
“And if you died today?” I am telling you that you don’t say that, death is never talked about unless it is to "mock" her or to remember someone who has already died, with veneration, affection or, at least, waiting for "God to have it in his Holy Glory". Death is not for the living, even though It is the only thing that surely awaits us all, as alive as we are. But let's remember another key thing: "Mock" of death.
I didn't die, I woke up Page 4