Resumo de El Coronel No Tiene Quien Le Escribe

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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