Timote: A Novel

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 Let us suppose we decide to say something about the place where they are going. It is not a harebrained decision. What is going to happen is going to happen there. Rather than being harebrained , it is logical to say something about the place. If one were to write a novel that takes place in Tartagal, it must say something about Tartagal. If it takes place in Niza, about Niza. Somewhat less, because almost everyone knows something about Niza. Or they’ve seen it in the movies. Not to mention Paris. It would be immoral to describe Rome. But the Gladiator pickup is on its way to Timote. Sarmiento said about his Facundo, “I invented anecdotes in accord.” He said it with pride, defiantly. We also must invent our own. We have already done so. No one should be bothered by that. If what we’ve invented is verisimilar, it’s welcome . Someone could ask this: How do you know that Aramburu said that? Or Abal Medina? We don’t know. We weren’t there with a tape recorder. Others will say the body took three bullets, not four. Or that it wasn’t a Peugeot 404, but a 505. Too many things are sought with respect to Aramburu. The principal one is that Onganía ordered him killed by Imaz, his Minister of the Interior. Firmenich was his accomplice. A double agent. He visited the Ministry of the Interior more than twenty times before May 29. These are theories without any significant basis. The one that t i m o t e| | 89 most fits is the one we choose. The Onganía-Imaz-Montoneros thesis includes a person who undermines it: Captain Gandhi. A madman from the overthrow of Perón who had Juan Duarte’s head cut off. He showed it to Cámpora. “Tell me the truth, Dr. Cámpora. Did he commit suicide or did you people commit it for him?” Meanwhile, the head lies on the desk. There’s a large hole in it. Gandhi inserts a pencil in it and rotates it: “It’s a large hole for a .38.” Juancito Duarte had left behind a charming suicide note in which he said he blew his brains out with a .38. And then he added, “Please excuse the handwriting. Please forgive me for everything.” The animal Captain Gandhi (Captain González Alvariño, another gem of the overthrow, macabre and possessed by necrophilia) insists on showing the head to Cámpora: “Look at this hole. That’s not from a .38. It’s from a .45. He didn’t commit suicide. You people killed him.” Just to prove that the Peronistas were assassins. Especially Perón. He had even ordered the death of Evita’s brother. It’s this guy, with his reality base, they turn to prove the thesis of the Onganía-Imaz-Montonero alliance. Poppycock. Onganía leaves the government a few days later. Imaz as well. What use is Aramburu’s death to them? So they would be fired as incompetents. No, sir: Aramburu’s death is the spectacular appearance of the true Peronista guerrilla movement. Everything before had been nothing by comparison to this. Even less so the Tacuara Nationalist Movement, the Tacuara Revolutionary Nationalist Movement, and the Nationalist Restoration Guard these kids had come out of. The other guerrilla organizations are unable to understand them. What is the meaning of “May God, Our Lord, take pity on his soul”? That had nothing to do with Marx, or Lenin, or Castro, nor with Che or Mao or josé pablo feinmann 90 | | any-fucking-body else, excuse my French. If you rub someone out, who doesn’t ask for something from God? Not even that He “take pity on his soul.” Especially for Him to “take pity on his soul.” But if you rub someone out, you begin to get all fucked up with “Thou shalt not kill.” And if you’re Catholic enough to think about the soul of the guy you’re rubbing out, don’t rub him out, brother. Set aside those Sunday ceremonies of priest, hosts, blessings . Forget all that fervor of a brand-new altar boy. But that’s how the Montoneros were. That surprising phrase “May God have pity on your soul” said a lot. First, that they believed in God. And God is a reactionary. Everybody knows that...