The idea was to start in Puerto Rico and travel to the Dominican Republic, Costa Rica, Panama, Venezuela, and Colombia, sadly skipping over the supreme island, the summit of greatness and enjoyment, my beautiful Cuba, because my cousin the Supreme Bearded One wouldn’t let anyone preaching the word of Christ come anywhere close, oh, what a pity! Walter threw himself into the plans for the journey, advised once again by the Italians, who told him, you have to have a commercial vision, you have to be managerial, efficient, you have to set targets, identify strategic objectives and base your operations on results, you have to optimize and find reliable indicators; Walter’s eyes were opened, and he started to say, let’s decide on objectives, let’s lay down strategies, let’s find reliable indicators. Another important question, according to the Italians, was the question of IMAGE! That was why they hired a small private jet, a Falcon, I think, and put the name of the Ministry on both sides, because one of the consultants said, the Church mustn’t convey the idea of poverty, when did you ever see the Pope traveling economy class? the less you convey the idea of poverty, the more you’ll be listened to, and if anybody criticizes you or talks about ostentation, remember, the word that lights a fire in people’s hearts and cleanses their souls has an obligation to be universal and efficient, and that’s the main thing, the objective; and Walter said: yes, let’s go in the Falcon, let’s be universal, we’re going to cleanse souls. They contacted showbiz promoters in every country and hired sports stadiums, bought advertising space on radio and TV and in national newspapers. I helped write the advertising copy and select the photographs, my brothers, which was more amusing than useful.
The advertising read:
He is coming, He is coming. .
Open your heart to the Supreme Mystery. .
Become part of the Great Ministry.
For peace, the conjunction of souls, and harmony. .
Join the Ministry of Mercy.
If you are lost and cannot see the world,
if your eyes do not help you. .
close them and hear the word
of Reverend Walter de la Salle.
They also had T-shirts, pencils, pamphlets, pennants, posters, and commemorative coins produced, and hired the best lighting, sound, and technical teams that specialized in concerts. Apart from the Italians, Walter invited Jessica and me to travel with him in the Falcon, and sent the samurai in a regular scheduled plane, which they didn’t like one bit. To be honest, I’d have preferred to stay in Miami because I could see the Master’s punishment coming, but I let myself be persuaded because of my desire to see my Land of Delight, which I couldn’t even do in the end because I was too busy organizing the services. The whole thing, as I’ve already hinted, went badly. In Puerto Rico it wasn’t too bad, but in Costa Rica there were three hundred and eight people at the first service and ninety-six at the second. In Panama we didn’t even sell six hundred tickets, and as we’d hired a stadium that seated seven thousand Walter preferred to cancel. There was a scandal in the press and we had to refund the money. As you can imagine, my friends, things went from bad to worse, and Walter was once again a soul suffering in the shadows; if the souls of evil people are black, those of fragile people are gray. Jessica and I would say to him: it’s normal, nobody knows you here yet, your word will reach them but it’s going to take time, and he’d say, where are the management indicators? what did we do wrong? According to the Italians, our calculations for the tour had overestimated the role of the passive element, and he told himself that maybe we should have targeted those strata of society that were more developed from the spiritual point of view. But this was no consolation to Walter, who kept asking himself the same question: why does no one come to me here, whereas they do in the United States, if they’re the same people? what accounted for the difference? why did the people up there never speak to the people down here? He was blinding himself, and would have sudden fits of anger; then he’d lock himself away in the suites rented for him for the tour, without anyone coming to the hotel to look for him or to take photographs or even give him their hand or touch him. The security guys spent their time drinking beer in the lobbies and eating peanuts, because there were never any fans to hold back, no screaming, let alone fainting, and that hurt Walter. God, he would say imploringly, where did they all go? why did you take them? what are you trying to tell me? And I’d say, he isn’t trying to tell you anything we don’t already know, Walter, it’s a problem of space and voice, your voice should win people over, we’ve made a start, more will come, now let’s talk about something else.
One of those nights, in Cartagena de Indias, as we were talking on the balcony of his suite in the Hotel Santa Clara, he grabbed me very hard by the arm and said, José, you’re a good person and that’s why you have to understand that, basically, I’m human, I have human pains and frustrations, nothing makes me different than the others, than any of those that come to hear me; I’m a son of the streets like you, it just so happens that people listen to me. Then he went to the bar and grabbed a quart bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label, two glasses and a full ice tray, and said, I know you’ve distanced yourself from all this, but for tonight I want you to think of us as two friends who need to talk, two friends or partners or flesh and blood Latinos who have to level with each other, this won’t damage you, you’re strong, you have structure in your life; he poured the whiskey and I drank, and in my soul it was as if galleries were collapsing, and a kind of echo rose to the surface from deep inside; a taste of another life or an intense emotion, when you find something that can destroy you the more you long for it, whether love or just obsession. By the third glass, I was confessing my fears to him, saying: you’re bringing down what you yourself created with effort, and all for what? What you get from your shitty life in that tower isn’t much, compared with what you’re putting in danger, but he retorted, you’re wrong, José, if it wasn’t much I wouldn’t do it, I need it, period, I’m like you, I dream of pleasure and things hurt me, don’t be deceived about me; I said: be careful, you’re riding a tiger and if you dismount you’re going to break your legs, and he said, trust me, we’re having a downturn, but it’ll pass, it’ll pass, you have to believe me.
Then we talked about God and life and the distant stars that could be seen over the sea and what hard work it must have been for the Master to create this universal shithouse we live in is only seven days, thing by thing, trees and grains of sand and flies buzzing around shit and the blind fish at the bottom of the sea and the diseases of kangaroos and the flocks of birds, hats off, and we talked about that son of a bitch Satan, who was always interfering in our lives and twisting them around, and the worst thing was that he never tired, we talked about all that until I went to the bathroom and saw that Jessica had returned and was on her iMac chatting or watching videos on YouTube or something like that, because she was dancing with her headphones on: I noticed that beside her, next to a glass filled to the brim with gin, there was a mirror with a considerable quantity of coke, but I walked past and went back on the balcony, where Walter and I continued going over life and the future and the contradictions.