El Coronel No Tiene Quien Le Escribe
(Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
The last civil war had finished 56 years ago but after the agreements had been signed the colonel had done nothing but wait for the pension he had been promised as an ex-soldier by the treaty of Neerlandais. During this time the country had been torn by a clandestine war between liberals and conservatives, a conflict which had cost the life of the colonel?s son, Agustin. Since this occurrence the old couple had lived in direst poverty. They had scarcely a few centavos left, which the colonel wanted to squander on maize for the cockerel. The colonel?s wife said that it was only an animal and could wait but the colonel insisted and said they would see how things would improve. The cockerel had belonged to Agustin and the colonel had pinned all his hopes on it because in April the cock-fighting season began. They were in October and whilst the colonel went to the post office as he had done every Friday for the last 20 years to check whether his pension had arrived, he thought of the month of January when the cock would win and they would be able to raise their heads above water for who knew how long. Life was nothing but uncertainty through these long days of poverty and hunger. To pay for their meagre scraps the colonel and his wife had several options, selling some of their few remaining possessions: the clock, a pair of shoes or the picture. But they were dogged by a relentless fate which would not let them live in peace. Everyone in the village focussed their hopes on the creature. They all kept asking the colonel how he was and he always replied, ?He?s there?. And indeed he was there. He was the only one in the house who had food to eat. But the colonel?s wife, who was asthmatic, could see that his faith in the January fights was becoming more ill-founded. So she suggested to her husband that he should sell the cockerel. He had already tried to sell it but Don Sabinas,a wealthy neighbour, would only offer him 400 pesos instead of the 900 he had once said the creature was worth. The colonel would not sell. He returned home with the cock and his wife, indignant, complained again. The colonel insisted they should sell the clock although he knew that would be difficult. ?We must sell the cockerel?, said his wife. ?No?, he argued, for on 20th January it was going to win. It was impossible for it to lose. It was still October and his wife asked the colonel, ?And what are we going to eat in the meantime?? Forgetting his age and his tender affection for her he replied, ?Shit?.
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