Timote: A Novel

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 What could he tell them about Evita? Could they, snot-nosed kids between twenty and twenty-three years old, understand something he might explain to them? Do you pretend to know her? I saw her up close, I saw her walk, I saw her sit down, stand up. I shook her hand innumerable times. I saw her very expensive clothes, her shoes. I heard her speak, I saw her smile—I never saw her cry. Then I saw her hair bun, that tailored suit she wore like a uniform, like a soldier in battle. I saw her begin to die and I saw her almost dead. I saw her become pallid. I saw her lose her curves and the splendid, beautiful health in her face. She sprouted cheekbones like rocks. Her lips grew thin. Even her ankles grew thin, because they were always thick and that was a torment for her. You could see the bones in her hands. Her voice grew harsh. It seemed all she did was give orders. Until she died. Then, despite the circus Perón set up, I see the people really crying for her. I’m going to tell you about Evita’s people. There was no question they loved her. Willingly, humbly, and even submissively— without shame, without honor. You can’t love a person that way. There’s no room left to love yourself. No pride left. I saw the people turn themselves over to that love to the point of losing themselves, losing all presence, to the point of immolation. If you’d asked them what they were—what they were, you see—they might have said, t i m o t e| | 135 “We are our love for Evita.” That’s how she was able to manipulate them however she wanted. I know you will say, “They went so far in their love for her because of the hatred with which all of you treated them. That was the first time anyone loved them. How could they not give in to it? How were they not going to love Eva to the point of not loving themselves?” I know what you will say: “They were full of love. Never had a people loved so much. How could it matter to them to give her all their love if they had hers? They did not have to love themselves because she loved them. That was sufficient. That was enough.” As you can see, I have thought about this question. But there’s another aspect. Aramburu will never tell them what he means by another aspect. Aramburu thinks that the people loved Eva so much because they were ignorant. Because they were mestizos who had just come in from the countryside. “Black heads,” “greasers,” as she called them. An educated people can’t love a government official that way. An educated people never loses their critical dignity . No one can go overboard, drown himself in someone else. Only a country of animals, fanatics, could go to such extremes for love. What can you expect from such a people? Too much, the worst. The love of fanatics sweeps everything away with it. There are no decrees possible in the face of the passions of the ignorant. Someone who hasn’t been polished, burnished by culture will only treasure passion, the fury of the barbarous. I know they’re going to ask me why we hid her. What did they expect? That we would let them keep their dead saint? And what’s worse, a dead saint that was vengeful, tempestuous, bellicose? No, we weren’t crazy . Evita, in Argentina, would have made the country blow sky-high. She would have been a flash point for every rebellion. The altar of josé pablo feinmann 136 | | every hatred. We would have spent all our time cleaning the flowers up from her tomb, only to start all over again the next day. And the next. And the next. The priests of the people would have gone there. They would have celebrated their tempestuous masses. The most fanatical would have lived their lives waiting for her to arise from her tomb to lead them into battle, to triumph. We would have had to beat them with clubs. Or kill them. They would be trying me now for many other deaths. Not for Valle’s and his companions. Not for the ones in the...