2.- A LITTLE GIRL

(En el Autobús)

 

 

A Little girl

They were seated near me and her precise way of talking attracted my attention, with a tune typical of her age, no more than four years old.

She played with him and won the race, breaking air bubbles, (those that protect anything prone to be wrapped).

I was surprised when I heard her say:

            “Daddy, I don´t want to go to heaven because, there, I won´t see my friends, or you, or mum”.

He knew how to come through unscathed and answered:

            “From above you can see everything, you can ever fly like a bird”.

She got more and more enthusiastic and, with a conviction that made heaven jealous, she exclaimed:

 

“God is the best!”.

Her father played along with her:

He´s so good to put a guardian angel to take care of each one of us”.

And he put examples of past danger, when she damaged less for being protected.

That was it!, (she whispered), and fast, as if she had wings, she remembered that day, when he stepped on her and there was no injury, despite her smallest foot toe had been under his steamroller-shoe.

“ How cute is having a guardian angel!”.

She exclaimed, full with joy.

(I didn´t see her father´s expression, but I´m sure he was smiling).

When I thought this lively conversation was over, she surprised all of us:

            “Daddy, who is God´s guardian angel?”

There was no doubt in the answer: fast whispering, he told her:

“You, my daughter, you are that angel”.

I got out of the bus. The morning was warm and there was a strange silence. It was true, where was God going to be better than in that good-natured question?.

Said it all, I didn´t think the game was over.

Who will ask God to be able to deal with the responsibility that falls to him again, for her?.

(Traducción: María Rubio)

1.- THE ENEMY

I

 

 

 

L´m interested in this warning “don´t confuse your enemy”.

We cry with the relatives of so many human beings whose lives were cut short by the nonsense and pray  for justice to be done.

I´m interested in following the clue of Justice.

Justice is a synonymous of balance and, to judge, it´s obligatory for the one who sets him up as judge to have it.

We know if something is right or not, if it´s correct or incorrect according to the values we start from, and so, education ( family or social ) is fundamental. Habit arises from the repetition of the same actions and, the natural behaviour would be just repeat what give us happiness.

I´m interested in knowing where we are given what we have. If it´s possible for a child, before being born, to strive for recognition he can justify the differences with and could take responsability for.

If the possibility doesn´t exist, we´ll have to value what each one provides in a different way.

Who has got 10 and provides 4 will be demanded six more times than the one who provided just 4 because it was all he had.

I´m interested in those six points of difference.

I´m interested in that clue left behind by the enemy in his escape that always takes me to those six points, strategically separated and hidden behind four elementary things we justify a shameful superiority with.

I always noticed I was my worst enemy.

(Traducción María Rubio)

Me interesa esa advertencia de “no confundir al enemigo”.

Lloramos con los familiares de tantos y tantos seres humanos a quienes la sinrazón les truncó la vida y pedimos que se haga justicia.

Me interesa seguir la pista de la justicia.

Justicia es sinónimo de equilibrio y para juzgar es obligado que quien se erige en juez lo tenga.

Sabemos si algo está bien o no, si es correcto o incorrecto, según los valores desde lo que partimos y para ello la educación (familiar y social) es fundamental. El hábito nace por la repetición de acciones iguales y lo natural sería repetir lo que nos procura felicidad.

Me interesa saber donde se nos da lo que tenemos. Si le es posible al niño hacer algún mérito antes de nacer con el que pueda justificar las diferencias y se le pueda responsabilizar por ello, en el caso de que no tuviera esos méritos.

Si no existe esa posibilidad, habrá que valorar lo que aporta cada uno de manera distinta.

El que tiene 10 y aporta 4 se le tendrá que exigir seis veces más que al que puso 4 porque era todo lo que tenía.

Me interesan esos seis puntos de diferencia.

Me interesa esa pista que en su huida deja el enemigo y que siempre me lleva a cualquiera de esos seis puntos separados estratégicamente y ocultos detrás de cuatro cosas elementales con las que justificamos una superioridad vergonzante.

Siempre me encontré con que mi peor enemiga era yo.

 

María Bernad

 

7.-THE MEMORY

The memory

There he was, sitted head for the door. That´s why I could see him well when I got into the bus.

On the other side, the other way, I took a seat and could follow in detail all his movements. He was talking to himself, with that particular way of absorption used by the ones without interlocutor.

Suddenly, he changed the monotonous tune because of a memory, apparently painful: “I wrote some letters to you” …(he said to himself). “ … you always gave them back to me” … (he distressed on account of it), and after that lucidity he came back to the previous mood, as if this sequence (repeated some times) was the score of his viola.

The vehicle stopped and some people got into it. In the speed required for these manoeuvres, a girl tripped on our minstrel´s foot. She immediately apologized, but that man didn´t accept her excuses. “You have to tread carefully” he said in a plaintive tune, “apologizing is not enough…”. The cause of that “accident” wanted to make him understand that stamp hadn´t been deliberate,  but all her explanations were unsuccessful. His recriminations managed to distress the woman and I made her a gesture to ease her guilt feeling: “don´t take any notice of him, he´s not all right”. She agreed and he went on complaining.

That scene has accompanied me along the day. What would those letters say? Who were they addressed to? Did they beg pardon?. I didn´t have any piece of information and that prevented me building a script, but it was a good excuse to remember that the only one able to forgive is who has done it to himself.

I remembered my father, the fate, apparently nonsense, broke his memory and the information was orphaned like that human being alone in the bus, or my mother during so many years.

I only could think of saying “be quiet, I remember for the three of you”.

(Traducción María Rubio)

 

 

 

LA MEMORIA

 

 

Allí estaba, sentado en dirección a la puerta. Por eso pude verlo bien cuando subí al autobús.

 

Al otro lado, en dirección contraria, ocupe un asiento y pude seguir con detalle todos sus movimientos. Iba hablando solo, con aquella forma peculiar de ensimismamiento que usan los que no tienen interlocutor.

 

De repente, cambió el tono monocorde por un recuerdo, al parecer, doloroso:  “Te escribí varias cartas”… (se decía). “…siempre me las devolviste”… (se apenaba), y tras esa lucidez volvía al estado anterior, como si esta secuencia (repetida varias veces) fuera la partitura de su vida.

 

El vehículo paró y subieron varias personas. En la rapidez que requieren estas maniobras una chica tropezó con el pie de nuestro juglar. Ella le pidió inmediatamente perdón, pero aquel hombre no aceptó sus excusas. “Hay que mirar bien donde se pisa” dijo en tono quejumbroso, “no basta con pedir perdón…” La causante de este “atropello” quería hacerle entender que el pisotón no había sido intencionado, pero todas las explicaciones fueron inútiles. Su recriminación consiguió angustiar a la mujer y le hice un gesto para rebajar su sentimiento de culpa:  “no se lo tenga en cuenta, no está bien”. Ella asintió y él siguió empeñado en su queja.

 

Durante todo el día me acompañó esa escena. ¿Qué dirían aquellas cartas? ¿A quién iban dirigidas? ¿Acaso imploraban un perdón? No tenía datos y eso impedía construir cualquier guión, pero era una buena excusa para recordar que solo puede perdonar quien lo ha hecho consigo mismo.

 

Recordé a mi padre. El destino, sin sentido aparente, le rompió la memoria y la información quedó tan huérfana como aquel ser humano solo en el autobús o mi madre durante tantos años.

 

Solo se me ocurrió decir, “tranquilos, yo me acuerdo por los tres”.

 

                                                                     María Bernad