I received a phone call from my mother-in-law. She told me that Colonel Palma called to express his regret that he couldn’t allow visits to Pericles, but orders are orders, and they come from the very top. I told her he is a coward for contacting her instead of returning my phone calls. I’ve been aware that my in-laws have known him for a long time, that there was a certain intimacy between them, I even suspected there were favors owed. Mama Licha warned me that the situation continued to be very delicate, it seems that rather than dissuade the officers from expressing their dissatisfaction, the executions have had the opposite effect. I was surprised that my mother-in-law would talk about such things on the telephone, she is always so cautious and circumspect. Something quite serious must be happening.
This afternoon rumors started circulating that Dr. Romero has been captured. I didn’t believe them. I received phone calls from many people; everybody in the street was talking about it. I heard wildly different versions: that he was shot while being arrested, that they applied the law of flight — which allows them to shoot fleeing prisoners — that they are torturing him at the Black Palace. But it wasn’t long before there was a news bulletin on the radio. First it was announced only that he had been captured, and more details would be given soon. Then there was a government press release stating with great fanfare that the “communist leader” Arturo Romero had been captured by a peasant patrol in the eastern part of the country, very close to the Honduran border; it said the doctor attacked his captors in an attempt to escape, and he was wounded in the ensuing struggle and taken to a hospital in the city of San Miguel. I froze: that scoundrel will execute Don Arturo, I said to myself. It was as if we were all thinking the same thing, because immediately a kind of silent wave of outrage rippled through the city. By then it was late in the afternoon. Betito and I went to the Alvarados’ house; we were lucky to see Chente, who just happened to have stopped by to pick up some clothes and sandwiches because he was going to spend the night at the university. He told us a student delegation from the medical school was going to take the train to San Miguel as soon as possible to safeguard Don Arturo, for the National Guard troops who captured him had assaulted him brutally with machetes, he has a very deep wound on his face, and the doctors at the San Miguel hospital are doing everything possible to save his life; he also told us that preparations for the university strike are moving along, and that’s what he’s going to spend the night planning. Then he left quickly. All poor Rosita could do was ask God to watch over him and sit there biting her fingernails.
We returned home. Betito went to Henry’s; I asked him to be very careful. Doña Chayito called to tell me she had just spoken to the ambassador, who said the doctor’s arrest was bringing things to a head, the entire diplomatic corps approved the request for immediate clemency for all coup participants who are under arrest and requested a meeting with the general for the afternoon, and as soon as she had heard anything she would call me; she said we should meet at eight in the morning in front of the Central Prison. I assured her I would be there. I had just hung up when Raúl and Rosita came over to invite me to dine with them, then Mingo also arrived, asking me to tell him every detail of our meeting with the ambassador. In the end we stayed in: Rosita went to get the fried plantains and beans she had made, and María Elena served some meatballs left over from lunch. I was surprised by Raúl’s sudden change; he is very upset by Don Arturo’s capture, he said the entire medical society would do everything possible to prevent his execution, his friends are in contact with colleagues in San Miguel, and once they get him out of immediate danger they will stretch out his treatment as long as possible to prevent them from taking him to the prison hospital. He also said that on this first day of classes the political ferment among the university students has been intense, in classes nobody talks about anything besides the executions and how the general should be thrown out, and everybody’s nerves are on edge.
Betito didn’t return until a few minutes before ten; I was already getting worried. I scolded him: it is irresponsible to run the risk of being caught on the streets after curfew. He told me that he and his high school friends are getting better organized so they can join the university protests that will take place in the next few days. I warned him not to neglect his studies, whatever the circumstances, and not to misbehave at schooclass="underline" he is still a minor who must do as he is told, and he knows how strict his father is.
I’m exhausted, but my spirits are good. I hope I’ll soon fall asleep. I don’t want to stay awake thinking about Don Arturo’s fate, because then I will grow worried about Clemen and Pericles. The one who is staying up all night is Chente, along with his classmates; he looks so inoffensive with his glasses and scrawny body, but that boy has turned out to be quite tenacious.
Tuesday April 18
A detachment of National Guard troops had taken up position on the street in front of the Central Prison with orders not to allow us to approach. The atmosphere was charged: I was afraid and decided to return home to wait for the other ladies. Doña Chayito called a bit later: she said she’d verified that the guards would surround the prison indefinitely to prevent us from approaching; she also confirmed that the representatives of the diplomatic corps were received last night by the general and they presented him with their request for clemency, though they received nothing but an assurance that everything would proceed according to the law. And again I could hear Pericles saying, “That’s the only clemency the man knows: the National Guard.” We will meet tomorrow at Doña Consuelo’s house.
I spent the rest of the morning grocery shopping, feeling a bit guilty when I thought of the unpleasant things Pericles must have to eat. María Elena accompanied me from store to store; everyone is mumbling hateful insults against the general under their breath, though fear abounds. In Plaza Morazán we took Don Sergio’s taxi; he says he misses my husband, his favorite client.
Then I went to the beauty salon — I was in a sorry state, I have been taking such poor care of myself, as if punishing myself for Pericles having to remain in jail. Silvia, the one who brushes my hair, told me she had just waited on Doña Tina de Ávila, the wife of Don Ramón, minister of foreign affairs, who swears that her husband and several other ministers would like to resign, but they don’t see how or when, and they don’t agree that there should be more executions and would rather the sentences be commuted, especially Dr. Romero’s, but they are afraid to raise their voices because then the general would accuse them of treason and retaliate. I am certain this is the case.
I felt like a new woman when I left the beauty salon. Then I went to my parents’ house. I noticed several young people on the streets wearing black ties. I brought Mother up-to-date on my recent activities; she advised me to be very careful, not depend on the fact that I am a respectable lady, she said, because the worst kind of animal is a cornered animal. I mentioned what Doña Tina had told Silvia at the beauty salon; Mother already knew — she’s friends with Doña Tina and also with Doña Telma de Escobar, the wife of the treasury minister. She says the situation would be comic if it weren’t so tragic: before each meeting with the general, most of the ministers agree to explain to him the virtues of adopting a more moderate policy and taking into consideration the advice of friendly foreign governments, but once they are face-to-face with him in his office, they all tremble, not one dares express the slightest dissension, least of all regarding the death sentences, and even so, he eyes them with suspicion and contempt, he now trusts only those in the army who remained loyal to him.