Stories

  I did not visit Elba as a tourist. I went there to search for my wife Emma’s grandpa’s birth certificate. We visited Poggio, the town of her ancestors. The island cast a spell on my daughter Laura and me as we toured it. I could not help feeling strangely sad visiting the place. At the town’s San Defendente church, the pews bore metallic tags with the surnames of the families that donated them. I recognized many of these names as those of my classmates in my hometown. Roman and Milanese now own most of the houses as holiday homes. The grandfather once owned a vineyard in the vicinity. The phylloxera and cryptogamic diseases killed it. He sold the farm and moved to the Venezuelan highlands to grow coffee. Since he and his child, my father-in-law, died as Italian citizens, my spouse and our children could claim their citizenship. Thus, we could move to Italy and escape Hugo Chavez’s regime. I obtained Emma’s grandfather’s vital document in the registry of Marciana Marina. One day, ...

That afternoon, Major Morales arrived with a big dark soldier, carrying a large pot. Morales dismissed the soldier and explained that it was a special roast he had brought as a dinner contribution. Ricardo had Morales wait until his mother and Elsa ground up some corn in their pilon , a rustic hollowed tree trunk with a heavy pestle; ground corn meal is a key ingredient to prepare arepas , a staple of the local cuisine. Ricardo’s mother brought a tray to the table. —Here are the arepas , Major. He reached to get one, but it was the last thing he did; the mortar pestle hit him across his temple, and he fell to the floor. Elsa hit him again and he stretched his legs. Ricardo jumped to his feet. —Elsa, have you gone mad? In reprisal, they will kill us all! — Dear brother, I had no choice. He had us at his mercy; we must escape. Our brother Carlos; is waiting for us at Bochalema. There are only two sentries at the boat landing and two boats with outboard engines. Ricard...

  Ricardo hated going to dine with Elsa and Paco at Major Morales’ "headquarters". He had confiscated the house from a wealthy merchant that had escaped to Colombia; two scared-looking maids served the meal. The food was abundant and varied, Ricardo could not help thinking about the poor people in the neighborhood. Morales was obsequious to Elsa; it was evident he was attracted to her; he showed the house and its various quarters to the girl; she chatted amiably with him to the surprise of Ricardo and Paco. Morales wanted them to remain longer, but they managed to excuse themselves and went home. Next morning Morales' men started to relocate the crates with weapons and explosives to Ricardo's shed. Ricardo mused —It is a good thing that a forest of tall trees covers the shed and hides it from the Colombian army helicopters, if the shed would take a direct hit, it would disappear along with our home, and its occupants. The crates contained shoulder-f...

  Priming the irrigation pump could be a nuisance.   After many unsuccessful ties, finally he achieved the desired effect. Suction restored, a torrent of brown water from the river Zulia  issued the outlet flowing among the loose furrows, and the waiting seeds. He would harvest in three months and storing the grain would require many steel barrels, but barrels were in short supply. The government had ousted the foreign oil companies; smuggling Colombian gasoline had become a thriving business. Empty barrels were at a premium. The value of a single surpassed that of three barrels of maize, and they could be re-used as needed. — By harvest time, I will have no barrels; they will steal or seize the few I have.  — He reflected. Desertion by the government caused a lawless void filled by sullen faced Colombian guerrillas; they protected the small farmers providing them with food and shelter. Large to medium scale farmers like him, suspected of being “exploiters of t...