Hands of Stone - Christian Giudice [6]
An individual without kin was adrift in Panama. Family ties were the surest defense against a hostile and uncertain world and blood loyalty was ingrained. This loyalty often outweighed that given to a spouse; indeed, a man frequently gave priority to his parents or siblings over his wife. Relatives relied on each other for help throughout life. Grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins faithfully gathered to mark birthdays and holidays together. Married children visited their parents frequently, even daily. In some small remote villages and in some classes, such as the elite, generations of intermarriage meant almost everyone was related in some way. Co-residence was the basis for the most enduring ties an individual formed.
Clara remained bitter about her abandonment. “When I met him in Las Vegas [years later] he said he used to send letters with someone, but I was never given any of his letters,” she said, “and he never helped me with Roberto. Never.” Her sister Mireya added, “He left and never came back again. That is the reason why Roberto never wanted to learn anything about his papa. He resented that he had left him.”
Roberto would grow up knowing only what relatives told him, of how his parents met at Mi Pueblito. “My father was a soldier and all the soldiers slept in a church,” he said. “There was a private military club and my father worked there as a cook and when they had a day off, he would go to the bar. When I was about two or three, my mom took me there. That was when she told me about him. She was strange … after that she didn’t know about him anymore. He left and we wouldn’t see him again. My mom later told me that he wanted to take me but she refused.”
The father did leave his son at least one thing: his Mexican complexion, the light skin tone contrasting with the jet-black hair of a mixed-breed cholo. Indeed “Cholo” or “Cholito” would become young Roberto’s nickname. The fierce, kill-or-be-killed boxing style of most Mexican fighters was one Duran would also adopt, unlike the more cultured style of most Panamanian boxers.
The young family suffered. Clara could often be seen with her beloved and barefoot Roberto by her side, whether in her hometown of Guarare or on North 27th and 29th streets in Chorrillo. She worked odd jobs and found various apartments when she wasn’t staying with her relatives. When available, rice, beans and meat made a typical meal. “Clara and Roberto would come here on weekends all the time,” said an old friend, Lesbia Diaz, from Guarare. “Clara even lived here for a couple years. Roberto was always running without shoes, even riding horses around town.”
Three years after Margarito left, Clara hooked up with a young man from Guarare named Victorino Vargas. The seventeen-year-old Vargas played guitar for a band and they met at a ball. All of the passion lost on the man that broke her heart now returned. The union was not without problems and Vargas failed to hold down a steady job, but he would father five children with Clara: girls Anabelle, Isabelle and Justiniano and boys Victor and Armando, or “Pototo.” In all she would have nine children but only Roberto would carry the Duran surname.
Whenever Vargas returned home, Roberto would be there waiting for him with a big grin and a cry of “Victorino!” Like other children his age, he thrilled to King Kong, Mexican adventure movies and cartoons. He and Toti loved Cantinflas movies, cowboys like Roy Rogers and acted out moves they learned from the popular television luchadores, or Mexican masked wrestlers, like the famous El Santo (The Saint), El Vampiro and the Blue Demon, who became icons not just for their ring exploits but for their appearances in schlocky but popular movies and comic books. The boys also aped