Wednesday, 13 August 2008

3 of 3

He ran without stopping. The bad news had to be scattered immediately. Although all were expecting it would happen, as messenger from other hamlets had arrived time before to prevent them, they were surprised. They thought that the inhospitable kind of the place, that the unassailable of the location, would make them give up… but there they were coming...
They were many, too many… it did not matter. The battle would be unequal in number, but also it would be in braveness… and both forces would be balanced.

While going on with her trip, she began to read a book that she had bought at the museum, where it was described how, after one hundred and thirty years, Quilme people had finished. One hundred and thirty years of defiance and bravery against the Spanish. Overcome by hunger, many of them thrown themselves and their sons from the hill, not to be captured.. others, the less, "were lead" on foot through those 1600 km to the place where 500 years later, she would live. There, some of them died infected by diseases unknown at their valleys, some due to the laziness of those who had conquered them.. due to abandonment.

She took the small piece of clay from her pocket.. when her tears wet it, she just realized what was the meaning of that line in zig zag, depicted there… the weeping now had been shared… the pain.
But then, she thought about her city, Quilmes, the one that had the name of the heroic natives, and not the one of their conquerors.
She tightened that piece of clay stronger.. she dried her eyes, and sighed a little bit of justice.

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