Excerpt
The Slaughter
Tamanoa brought me a makeshift crutch, little more than a
sturdy branch he had cut. I experimented with it, and found I
could hobble with difficulty. He walked beside me, helping me to
keep my balance. I was glad for an opportunity to leave Gregorio.
We came to a clearing where I saw Pánfilo was having his boots
cleaned. It wouldn’t have bothered me had he not placed his foot on
the back of a squatting child while another cleaned the boot with a
rag. The children were no more than six or seven years old. Their
nakedness made them appear all the more helpless.
I tried to ignore this scene, wishing I had not seen it, but the
expression of the child who was supporting the weight of the boot,
and the look on his mother’s face, holding a baby and peering
anxiously at Pánfilo only a few feet away, made it impossible.
I went over to Pánfilo, with Tamanoa holding me upright.
“Please, señor, allow me,” I said, stooping and raising his boot by
the heel, taking the weight off the boy. The child looked up at me
and I winked, clicking my tongue and jerking my head to one side,
telling him to go. The boy left with a footprint clear on his skin.
The other child froze, still holding the rag and looking at my hand
and Pánfilo’s stony face. I knelt and placed Pánfilo’s boot
comfortably on my knee, while bits of dirt rolled down onto the skirt
of my cassock.
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