Passage from La Caverna is a novel that threatens to be in-progress forever.

 

 

Chapter 4

Humberto Alegría de los Santos was hardly a man who fit his name. Alegría that is – which of course means “happiness”. In fact, he was a dour man who brought to mind those babies that come into the world with furrowed brows and serious little looks on their faces. Medium height, medium build – he was memorable for his loud, baritone voice and his knack for using pregnant pauses to his advantage.

As a professor, he had been exacting, notorious for scaring away at least twenty percent of the students who turned up for the first day of class. He was an intellectual elitist who eschewed the constructs of class and race and gender because, as he often said, they revealed nothing about the qualities that really mattered – the power of one’s mind and the depth of one’s soul. These, for him, were the qualities that distinguished humans from animals, and therefore were the only ones worth evaluating.

A strange choice for Chief Advisor to the President of the Republic one might say. This was my first response when I read the article about his appointment anyway, since I had not known and never would have guessed that Alegría de los Santos even knew General Cardoza, let alone was held by him in any special regard. However, by that time I had been involved in the Cardoza regime long enough to know that 1) Cardoza never acted in a predictable fashion and 2) with this upcoming “election” (opposition parties were largely illegal at this point), Cardoza was under enormous pressure from foreign friends to appear at least convincingly legitimate. So, I figured that Cardoza and the men around him had decided that an oddball intellectual like Alegría de los Santos might be just what the General needed.

Moreover, with regard to why my former professor would take the position, I myself was working for Cardoza, and though my rationalizations for doing so varied from day to day, a constant was that I truly believed I was better off as an insider – in which position I at least had a chance of doing some good for the country – than an outsider, or worse – as many of my friends had chosen – as an expatriate watching events unfold from afar. I had already tried that, and I wanted to do things differently this time.

And, there was something else. Something that came to me as I sat at the kitchen table that night, composing my letter. It was a conversation that Alegría de los Santos and I’d had one summer when he invited several of us students to spend a weekend with him and his wife at their vacation home by the sea.

The waves were breaking softly on the shore and Alegría’s children were building a sand castle just above the break. Alegría and I were sitting side-by-side in lawn chairs, overlooking the scene, and I at least, was feeling particularly happy to be away from the capital. The civil war had not yet broken out then, but the political situation in the country was becoming more volatile, and, especially on university campuses, taking a stand on anything that could be considered political was increasingly dangerous.

We were both sitting with our eyes closed to the sun, but as I listened to the sea and thought about the deteriorating situation, I began to think about Alegría and about how many tidal waves of political unrest he had managed to survive. No matter who had been in power, he had never felt the need to flee or to hide, and suddenly, opening my eyes, I looked at him and thought: here is a political man who seems never to have felt political fear.

Feeling very much like an apprentice in the presence of a master, I cleared my throat and said, The tides of politics, Don Humberto. How do you manage to always ride them so smoothly?

A look of contentment settled on his face, and when he opened his eyes, he said, Ay, young Castillo. It is not so difficult. One just has to be practical.

Practical, Sir?

Practical, pragmatic. In other words, one must know what one believes in, Castillo, but one must not be afraid to make a compromise. He sighed. He said, It is rigidity that gets people in trouble, Castillo. You understand?

I said I thought I did.

Good, he said, and as he closed his eyes again, the look of contentment settled in even deeper, and he said, You are an exceptional student, Castillo. You know this? Exceptional. You will go far.

 

Chapter 5

We met in his new office in the Presidential Palace. It was ornately furnished, with mahogany antiques and heavy fabrics in various shades of red, and it smelled strongly of cigar smoke. Dark is how I remember it. Dark and stuffy, and, in an inexplicable way, intimidating.

Other than looking a little portlier than the last time I saw him, that day my former professor looked more or less as had looked since I’d known him – dour, intense, with his hair combed back over his head and his mustache trimmed to be a little longer and bushier than the head of a toothbrush. He was wearing brown eyeglasses with large, square, plastic frames and a brown double-breasted suit with slightly larger than typical lapels, and as we sat down opposite each other, it occurred to me that he looked like a man trapped – fashionably at least – in the mid-fifties.

“So, Castillo,” he said, opening the cigar box on the table between us. “It has been sometime, no?”

“Too long, Don Humberto. Far too long.”

“Quite right,” he said. He offered me a cigar and I declined.

I congratulated him on his appointment.

He said, “Yes. It is quite a thing, isn’t it.” He was concentrating on preparing his cigar for lighting and did not attend to me again until it was lit and he was settled back into his chair. “You wrote me a letter.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“A fine letter. You write well, Castillo.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He sucked and puffed and smoke obscured his eyes. “You look well,” he said.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“And you are at the Ministry of Human and Economic Development?”

I said I was.

“Not a bad post for an ambitious young man. Not bad at all.”

“Yes. It has been a good challenge for me, Sir. Very interesting. And the Minster – ”

“Who is that these days? Diaz?”

“That is correct, sir. And I was just about to say – ”

“He’s a smart man, as I recall. You could learn a lot from him, Castillo.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “In fact, I already have learned a great deal.”

“I bet you have.”

He squinted through the smoke to study me. I asked about his wife and he said she was up to the same old such and such. I laughed politely. I was feeling nervous – clammy and tense in the palms of my hands – and for this I was feeling irritated with myself. He said, “So, Malinda Province.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You have a few ideas about what we should be doing out there.”

“Well, Sir – ”

“I like them. I like them very much, Castillo.”

I felt childishly pleased.

“As does General Cardoza, I might add. Malinda Province has been nothing but a thorn in his side for years.”

“I thought it might be, Sir.”

“A real bitch of a hornet’s nest,” he said. He sucked on his cigar and his cheeks grew hollow. “However, I’ll be honest with you, my friend – for my part, I am not entirely convinced it can be sorted out before the election.”

“No, of course not, Don Humberto. I wasn’t trying to suggest it could be.”

He half-smiled. “Don’t panic, Castillo. I didn’t think you were. I am just trying to be honest with you, so you know where I stand, from the outset.”

“I am grateful for that, Sir.”

He nodded once, deeply, then sighed, then held me in his gaze through what felt like a very long minute. Then he half-smiled again. “Unfortunately for both of us, Castillo, I am a much busier man today than I used to be, so I am going to have to keep this meeting brief.”

“I understand, Don Humberto.”

“I knew you would.” He held his cigar to the side and a thin stream of smoke eased its way up to the ceiling. “I am going to give you a green light, Castillo. As you know, I have always liked the way you think and when I got your letter – well everything just seemed to come together.”

“I am glad, Sir,” I said, but once I’d said it, I wondered if I should have thanked him instead. Suddenly I felt the need to adjust my sitting position. I uncrossed my legs, left them side by side for a second, then re-crossed them in the other direction.

“…eventually liaise with the governor,” Alegría was saying, “but to begin with, I’ve picked out a project that I’d like you to start on right away.”

A little excited, a little wary, I asked him what that project was.

“It’s a match factory,” he said, giving his cigar a good suck and a puff. “The plan is to have Cardoza come out there for a grand opening and test the waters so to speak.”

“A match factory.”

“That’s right, Castillo. A brand new operation headed up by a young man named Martínez. Javier Martínez Lopez, to be exact.

I spontaneously laughed and it was no surprise that Alegría gave me a curious look. I explained, “It is just – I believe I know Javier, Sir. We were in school together when we were boys.”

“All the better then,” Alegría said. “You should have no trouble getting things together.”

It took effort for me to hold my tongue at this point, as Javier Martínez Lopez was hardly the sort of person I’d had in mind when I wrote my letter to Alegría. Of course there was a logic to it – the Martínez’s were probably the most powerful family in all of Malinda, and it certainly could not hurt for Cardoza to have their backing; but as it was difficult for me to imagine him not having their backing already, it was even more difficult for me to get excited about spending my time, and the country’s resources, on a grand opening for Javier’s match factory.

Alegría said, “I am afraid the timeline is short, Castillo. We plan to be there in two weeks.”

“Two week, Sir. That certainly is short.”

“Yes, I know. And I would have liked to have given you more notice. I really would have. But you know how these things go.” He said the election season was chaos. That the schedule was changing every day –

“But this visit to Malinda, Sir – it is definite?”

He said it was. “As I said, General Cardoza is eager to settle the situation in Malinda, so he has made it a priority. I know two weeks is not a lot of time, but as I understand it, your friend Javier has been working with our people for some time on this project and has things well under control. With you on board as well – I’m confident all will be fine.”

“And after the match factory, Sir?”

“You will work with Governor Velasquez. As I think I mentioned, he’s already developing a list of projects. I suggest you use as your starting point.”

“So Velasquez knows I am coming?”

“He does, and he is one hundred percent behind it.”

“And an office, Sir? I assume I am to find one when I get there?”

“Already sorted out – there was a vacancy in the Santiago City Hall so I had them set it aside for you – the Mayor is an old friend of mine.”

I said I was grateful, but I was starting to feel stifled and I hadn’t even packed my bags yet. I was beginning to suspect I had set myself up to be a conveniently-placed Yes man. “And my idea for rural projects, Sir – ”

He laughed. “Ay, don’t look so dejected, Castillo. You’ll have more than enough time and opportunity to pursue rural projects. As I said before, it is not just I who have read your letter, but General Cardoza as well, and he liked it, my friend. All of it. This little match factory event is a political necessity, but after we get over that hurdle, you’ll have at least a few months to make friends however you see fit.”

“I assume that means Cardoza plans to return to Malinda before the election?”

“That’s the plan,” Alegría said, and with a small grunt – I assume at the effort required to lean forward – he stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray on the table and stood up. I took my cue and stood as well, and then we walked together to the door. “I didn’t even ask about you, Castillo. You have been well I trust?”

“Very well, Don Humberto. Thank you.”

“Found yourself a little wife yet?”

“I’m afraid not, Sir. But I can assure you, my eyes are wide open.”

“Good man,” he said, patting my back. “A man can only go so far in politics without a wife.”

“I’m sure that is right, Sir.”

“It absolutely is,” he said. “You can take my word on that.”

We were nearing the door. Alegría was reaching for the handle while scratching the side of his head with his free hand, and it was obvious that, for him, our little discussion had ended a good five minutes ago. But I was reluctant to go. I had been inside his office less than fifteen minutes, yet I was acutely aware that as soon as I stepped outside, my life would take a detour I felt barely prepared for. Of course, it had been I who wrote the letter, so to a certain extent I had begun to envision the possibilities. But the reality? Would my stay in Malinda last only through the election? Would I have a job at the Ministry when I came back? Did I really have free rein to choose projects?

My mind was racing – okay, I’ll admit it: it was racing as much toward Nadín Calderón as it was through the pitfalls I just might have to face on this detour – and it took me a great deal of effort to focus. I figured I had only one shot at asking Alegría another question though, so I forced myself to concentrate and finally came up with, “Just out of curiosity, Don Humberto – in your mind, what would be the ideal result here? What would you most like me to accomplish?”

For a second, he left his hand on the door handle, but then he took it away and crossed his arms atop his slightly protruding stomach. “The ideal result? Well, I suppose that would be the establishment of a certain order in Malinda province – not that you will be able to accomplish that in a few months – but, how shall I say this?” He thought for a minute, his head tilting toward the right, his gaze trained on me. “Let me put it this way, Castillo: one of the things I liked most about your letter was that, in your own tactful way, you made a convincing argument that the people of Malinda Province exist in what is almost a separate world from the rest of us. They have no sense of being part of the Republic in other words, and this is a problem. So, what would be an ideal result? I suppose it would be for those people to know – I mean really know – that they live in the Republic of San Agustín, and that the President of the Republic, General Cardoza, has not forgotten them for a minute.”

“Interesting, Sir,” I said. “Thank you.”

He gave me a little pat. “Ay, Castillo. It is good to see you.”

“And you, Professor. Congratulations again.”

He opened the door. “Weekly reports, Castillo. I want you to keep me up to date on your progress with weekly reports.”

“Absolutely, Sir,” I said. “And Sir? Thank you – for putting your trust in me I mean.”

“Ay, don’t worry about thanking me, Castillo. Just do good job and that will be enough.”

“I will do my best, Sir.”

“Let’s hope so, Castillo. For both of our sakes.”