‘No, Oreo, not like that! Didn’t I teach you anything? Not like that! That’s useless! It’s a load of crap!’
‘Look, Dad. That’s the tie man!’
‘That guy? It can’t be!’
‘He can’t be true either? Why not? It’s him! I’m sure!’
‘Because that’s Salinas!’
‘Salinas? Who’s Salinas?’
‘No, wait, it’s López Portillo! It’s Echeverría! It’s Díaz Ordaz!’
‘Who are they?’
‘Sons of bitches!’
‘So finish them off!’
Castor lassoed the tie man’s tie and tied it to the tail of the most insatiable of the bulls, who disappeared over the horizon of bovine backs at a frantic trot. Where were they taking him? To La Chingada!
In the heat of the battle, Jaroslaw and Officer Mophead came over to negotiate a ceasefire. The battle was also being fought on Officer Mophead’s head, where the curls were mercilessly torturing the straight hairs.
‘We have an eviction order.’
‘The land is my father’s, so talk to him. We have a right to be here,’ my father defended us, faithful to his reality in spite of appearances.
‘You’re just not getting it.’
‘So help me out.’
‘You have to leave this.’
‘This, what is this?’
‘This!’
‘It’s in contempt of reality.’
‘There is prison without bail.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Get out!’
But Pollux was already standing in front of the two men. He planted an uppercut on Officer Mophead’s jaw, while Jaroslaw got a jab on the temple. How he had managed to hit them in the face, given his small stature, was something that neither Officer Mophead nor Jaroslaw would have been able to explain. Their two bodies flew across the smallholding and were lost beyond the river.
‘Quickly!’ said my father, mobilising us. ‘Now’s our chance!’
‘For what?’
‘To build the house!’
We ran like maniacs across the land, falling over as we went, getting tangled up in the stumps of the watermelons. It would almost have been better to crawl along. When finally we reached the area we had cleared, my father began hurriedly to organise the construction.
‘One or two floors?’
‘Two!’
‘Two!’
‘OK. What shall we put on the first floor?’
‘The kitchen.’
‘The lounge.’
‘My room in the kitchen,’ demanded Electra, ‘to be near the quesadillas.’
‘And a bathroom in Electra’s room!’
‘And a room for watching TV in the bathroom!’
‘And a garden in the TV room!’
‘No, no, not like that!’
Why not, Dad, why not?
What’s the house made of?
Then I remembered that in my trouser pocket I still had the little device with the red button.
‘Wait!’ I ordered.
And I pressed it.
Two floors.
Click.
A lounge.
Click.
A kitchen.
Click.
Electra’s room.
Click.
A bathroom.
Click.
A TV room.
Click.
A garden with acacia trees! So we don’t forget where we’re from.
‘What else, what else?’
A room for my mother to cry in?
We finished the house and put in a mesquite door, a heavy, resistant door, which would keep watch over the passing of the years and the centuries. It was a magnificent house. It had a watchtower and there were bridges linking the rooms.
‘Dad, we could do what they did on the hill.’
‘What?’
‘Make another neighbourhood.’
‘A neighbourhood fifty metres square?’
‘Or another country.’
‘Another country!’
‘Poland!’
‘Poland.’
And then my father said to me, ‘Recite.’
And so I did:
‘Suave Patria, gentle vendor of chía,
I want to bear you away in the dark of Lent,
riding a fiery stallion, disturbing
the peace, and dodging shots from police,
etc.’
We were about to go inside and to bed when the door opened and out came Uncle Pink Floyd. Outside jail now, he stretched up to his true height. He was enormous. He came and stood next to us to admire the building. His head was reflected in the glass of the second-floor windows. He raised his hand to check that the watchtower was real.
‘You’ve made it look really nice.’
We all smiled delightedly: we had perfect sets of brilliant white teeth.
‘Thanks.’
But he immediately realised what was going on: ‘Hey, you bastards, don’t eat my watermelons.’
This is our house.
This is my house.
Now try and tear it down.
Glossary
charro
a traditional Mexican horseman, somewhat like the North American cowboy. Charros take part in charreadas (a little like rodeos) and wear very distinctive colourful clothing, including a wide-brimmed hat.
chía
a species of flowering plant from the mint family that is native to Mexico. Its seeds are used to make a refreshing drink.
chicharrón
fried pork rinds.
chilaquiles
a breakfast dish made from fried corn tortillas mixed with salsa and simmered, then topped with cheese, cream and refried beans.
El Cerro de la Chingada
most commonly understood as ‘the hill in the middle of (fucking) nowhere’, the name of this fictional hill makes oblique reference to La Chingada (or La Malinche), a well-known Mexican figure who acted as both interpreter and lover to Hernán Cortés during the Spanish colonisation of Mexico and whose name has become a way of swearing, insulting people or expressing strong positive feelings. The name humorously implies that Orestes’ family home is in a godforsaken place. Sending someone to La Chingada is not unlike telling them to fuck off.
gordita
a cornmeal cake filled with cheese, meat or other ingredients, then fried or baked. It is a little like a Cornish pasty.
huarache
popular Mexico City street snack made of an oblong-shaped fried corn dough base with various toppings, such as salsa, minced beef and cheese.
huitlacoche
sometimes called corn smut, this is a harmless fungus that grows on corn and is sometimes used as a filling in quesadillas.
ISSSTE (Institute for Social Security and Services for State Workers) shops
a series of state-run supermarkets in Mexico selling goods at below-market prices.
nixtamal
corn soaked in lime, then hulled before being ground to form masa (corn dough), which is used to make tortillas, tacos, quesadillas, tamales etc.
quesadilla
a flour or corn tortilla filled with cheese or other savoury ingredients, served folded in half. Common fillings include courgette flowers, huitlacoche and chicharrónes.
tacos de canasta
literally ‘basket tacos’, these are fried tortillas folded and filled with refried beans, potato and chorizo, or other ingredients, then steamed until soft. Traditionally they are made at home, then wrapped in a cotton cloth and placed in a basket so that they steam on the way to the street vendor’s stand.