about the victories I had not yet won. I put my own name on those walls but knew nothing of the struggle they spoke of.
The engineers and architects had decided that the building was still strong enough to continue. Eduardo went about the hotel yelling at the men to work harder. It was decided that only the north side was to be rebuilt and then not rebuilt but shored with more steel and concrete. I did not see Eduardo do it but I heard that he hurried to take down the hammock before Cantana arrived the morning of the explosion. But other businessmen had seen and now even he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to yell at us to sift through the ash and charcoal for that which we could use again.
After this attack a dozen or so of the workingmen left the work on the hotel in Canción. But others soon arrived to replace them. When these men came into the bay they lined the railings of the ferry and we stopped our work rebuilding the scaffolding to judge them and laughed because the sooty concrete monster that they saw they had not expected.
Cantana had some of the police and his own paid guards posted with rifles throughout the day and night and a metal fence like that around the ring of the fighting of dogs put up around the perimeter of the hotel and its future grounds. Because of this I was no longer able to sleep on the top floor but on the beach again in the lights of the stone malecón and those cantinas whose music and laughter called to me each night. I was very tempted to drink. But I did not have enough money and the fighting was only days ahead when the attack had occurred and then I would have plenty of money or I would be dead.
Â
T he rooftop of the depósito where we fought dogs was in the south of the city in an area that had once been busy with the pearl industry but was now old and run down. In their war against Mexico American soldiers had used the people of Canción to construct the stone warehouse. Then they used it as a place to store their weapons but also to defend the city with cannons aimed over the bay. Los Cancioneros did not mind the Americans very much. It was not as bad for them as it was in other parts of Mexico. My grandfather told me stories of how when the American army captured Veracruz he and many other men were forced to clean the streets. That the Americans spit on him and other men working with brooms and called them pigs.
All that cleaning when the Americans occupied Veracruz was the best thing that came from el Intervención. My father said to me. And as soon as they were gone the filth returned.
But when I told my grandfather that my father had said this he whispered to me.
Your father knows nothing of war. Of difficulty and hardship. Look at his hands. So soft and clean at the nails. Remember. You can never trust the words of a man whose body is not a little ruined.
The Americans had the rooftop of this two story depósito made strong enough to support the weight of soldiers who slept and kept watch there. The walls around this came to the chests of the men standing before them and were lined with colorful shards of broken glass and several openings constructed to shoot the cannons from. In one corner a small room had been built to shade the officers. This is where we waited before the fighting. We came up into this room by a metal spiral staircase from a back door made of thick metal planks and heavy iron hinges. At this door when the fighting was held stood a man with a revolver. His name was ElÃas. The story I heard of him was that his brother was the toughest man in Canción but that he was always beating on the younger ElÃas and this only made ElÃas even tougher than his brother. When I once asked ElÃas why he did not fight dogs he said.
Because when I die I do not want to mess my pants in front of dozens of men with some dog hanging on my neck. Besides. He continued. Señor Cantana pays me enough not to.
On this first night I approached
The engineers and architects had decided that the building was still strong enough to continue. Eduardo went about the hotel yelling at the men to work harder. It was decided that only the north side was to be rebuilt and then not rebuilt but shored with more steel and concrete. I did not see Eduardo do it but I heard that he hurried to take down the hammock before Cantana arrived the morning of the explosion. But other businessmen had seen and now even he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to yell at us to sift through the ash and charcoal for that which we could use again.
After this attack a dozen or so of the workingmen left the work on the hotel in Canción. But others soon arrived to replace them. When these men came into the bay they lined the railings of the ferry and we stopped our work rebuilding the scaffolding to judge them and laughed because the sooty concrete monster that they saw they had not expected.
Cantana had some of the police and his own paid guards posted with rifles throughout the day and night and a metal fence like that around the ring of the fighting of dogs put up around the perimeter of the hotel and its future grounds. Because of this I was no longer able to sleep on the top floor but on the beach again in the lights of the stone malecón and those cantinas whose music and laughter called to me each night. I was very tempted to drink. But I did not have enough money and the fighting was only days ahead when the attack had occurred and then I would have plenty of money or I would be dead.
Â
T he rooftop of the depósito where we fought dogs was in the south of the city in an area that had once been busy with the pearl industry but was now old and run down. In their war against Mexico American soldiers had used the people of Canción to construct the stone warehouse. Then they used it as a place to store their weapons but also to defend the city with cannons aimed over the bay. Los Cancioneros did not mind the Americans very much. It was not as bad for them as it was in other parts of Mexico. My grandfather told me stories of how when the American army captured Veracruz he and many other men were forced to clean the streets. That the Americans spit on him and other men working with brooms and called them pigs.
All that cleaning when the Americans occupied Veracruz was the best thing that came from el Intervención. My father said to me. And as soon as they were gone the filth returned.
But when I told my grandfather that my father had said this he whispered to me.
Your father knows nothing of war. Of difficulty and hardship. Look at his hands. So soft and clean at the nails. Remember. You can never trust the words of a man whose body is not a little ruined.
The Americans had the rooftop of this two story depósito made strong enough to support the weight of soldiers who slept and kept watch there. The walls around this came to the chests of the men standing before them and were lined with colorful shards of broken glass and several openings constructed to shoot the cannons from. In one corner a small room had been built to shade the officers. This is where we waited before the fighting. We came up into this room by a metal spiral staircase from a back door made of thick metal planks and heavy iron hinges. At this door when the fighting was held stood a man with a revolver. His name was ElÃas. The story I heard of him was that his brother was the toughest man in Canción but that he was always beating on the younger ElÃas and this only made ElÃas even tougher than his brother. When I once asked ElÃas why he did not fight dogs he said.
Because when I die I do not want to mess my pants in front of dozens of men with some dog hanging on my neck. Besides. He continued. Señor Cantana pays me enough not to.
On this first night I approached
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