The Hummingbird's Daughter_ A Novel - Luis Alberto Urrea [149]
Saint!
Oh how rich! My bastard daughter a saint. What next? Will they see me as Moses, perhaps? Will I part the Sea of Cortés and walk to Baja California? Say, that wouldn’t be so bad, come to think of it. We could open a gold mine!
Oye! Pay attention to what I say!
Saint Teresa is now preaching bizarre antigovernment and antichurch sermons. If it weren’t so alarming, it would be pathetic. Circumspection dictates that I leave her mute on the page. You can infer what you wish.
And allow me this moment to thank you, you imbecilic piece of shit, for starting this new wave of mania with your little Texan fish-wrap newspaper! Who ever told you it would be smart to allow Teresa to endanger us all with written screeds about the Yaquis! Eh? CHINGADO, Aguirre.
Well, I must go soon.
The “pilgrims” (ha ha ha) have now destroyed two cornfields, have killed seven cows, and have overflowed the old outhouses. We have holy shit flooding the camps!
Perhaps it is one of your biblical plagues?
A rain of turds on Egypt.
We all miss you here, and I hope this finds you well. (Note, please, that I did not say “I pray . . . ,” eh!)
Tu Amigo Cansado y Casi Loco,
Tomás
El Paso, Tejas
Later That Same Year
My Dear Saint Tomás, also known as the Doubter:
You heretic dog, you low rancher, you rural clod,
I greet thee from the metropolitan grandness that is El Paso. Thou dost not imagine the sophisticated delights of this fine city—the stink of cows, the turds of noble steeds that pass gaseous blasts as the horses totter down these dirty streets about to keel over in a swoon of hunger and neglect, the bowlegged Texan with his squinty eye and his globs of tobacco drool staining every post, corner, tree trunk, and stray dog. My great friend, pistoleros clump along the wooden sidewalks of this city, and sheriffs with six-guns upon their skinny hips eye the wanderer, and ladies with parasols turn their faces away from Mexicans! El Paso! Yesterday, some wicked fools fell upon an illegally employed Chinaman with rocks. The Americans are deeply offended by Chinamen crossing into their country uninvited. Ah, but the railroads must go on. Industry will foment the next Americano revolution, just as land reform and indigenous rights will fuel our own.
I beseech thee, my dear amigo de mi corazón, survive the dreary desert wastes! Give succor to the revolt! For surely the forces of the regime must topple! The noble Apache! The fierce Yaqui! The angry Papago and the pacific Pima and the yoked masses of the mestizo campesinos will rise! Down with Díaz. You must agree.
Teresita, the phenomenon of Teresita, is something we attend to from afar. In her lies hope, my brother. In her lies the flaming ember of liberation for all Mexicans. Revolt!
By the way, I tried a most interesting lime ice from Italy today. When you come, I will buy you one.
Loyally,
In Revolt,
Lauro A.
Aguirre:
Are you out of your Goddamned mind? Have you considered what would happen here if the government intercepted your letter? A censor? You revolutionaries have no sense at all. No seas pendejo, buey! Show some restraint. Things are bad enough already. How would you like to sing the praises of your saint if she were hanging from a tree? Or is that what you desire? All of us killed for YOUR cause? Calm down, Lauro. Please.
Angrily,
T
Mi Querido Tomás:
All kidding aside. The tide is turning, do you not feel it? All over the world, the People unite and fight. No fear, no doubt, no cowardice can hold it back. Do not fear the changes, my friend. And should we all be sacrificed, then it is for a greater, better day. I know you. I know your torments. When you fall into your fears and doubts like this, you become mesmerized. You