room, ‘Am I to wait for him here?’
‘No need,’ said the woman, the corners of her mouth twisting ironically. ‘He is already in this very room. Perhaps you should look harder.’
Federico looked around again, saw nothing, and began to feel a kind of astonished confusion. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but . . .’
‘Your leader is a woman,’ she said. ‘If your sense of machismo is offended you may leave at once, but without your rifle, and with your testicles in your mouth.’
Deep shame came down upon the young boy and he hung his head bitterly. ‘I am very sorry, Senora,’ he said, ‘I just did not expect . . .’
‘Shut your mouth before you say anything stupid!’ she exclaimed. ‘I am not “Senora”, I am “companera”, and my name is Remedios. Now tell me why you are here.’
Federico recounted his story falteringly, and when he had finished, Remedios shook her head.
‘It is not enough to want revenge. I don’t want to fight alongside barbarians, it is barbarians against whom we fight.’
‘Why else should I fight?’ asked Federico, genuinely puzzled. ‘I want justice.’
‘They are not the same thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘I want you to remember what Guevara said, that all true revolutionaries are motivated by the profoundest feelings of love.’
‘I don’t understand!’ he said agitatedly.
‘Now look,’ she replied. ‘I suspect you of being ignorant and inexperienced, but you are young enough to learn. I also know that you are brave and persistent, which is good. Therefore I will provisionally accept you, and you will be taught everything in both theory and practice that you need to know, and I warn you that you will be fully extended both physically andmentally. Sometimes it will be torture. Goodbye for now. Garcia!’
The man who had brought him the coffee re-entered and led him out. On the way back to the shade the man said, ‘I suppose you are wondering why our leader is a woman.’
Federico made a noise in his throat that was intended to be noncommittal.
‘It is because,’ Garcia said, ‘she does not practise brutalities. We elected her when we realised that she had more brains and more balls than all of us put together.’
10
----
COMANDANTE FIGUERAS DISRUPTS A FIESTA
DONA CONSTANZA WAS caught for a moment between hispanic pride and a natural inclination to panic; it was not often she was confronted by a group of sweaty-looking uniformed ruffians asking strange questions. Tossing her head and looking at them disdainfully she found her dignity and said, ‘What Communists?’
‘What Communists!’ echoed Figueras. ‘If you “don’t know” where they are you must be one of them.’ He lowered his rifle and pointed it at Dona Constanza’s stomach.
She snorted and replied even more haughtily, ‘I am a Conservative and proud of it, and next time I see President Veracruz I shall personally inform him of your disgusting manners and violent temperament. Kindly don’t point that weapon at me.’
The Comandante was torn between fear and the temptation to ridicule. His instinct was to slap her down and humiliate her, but his common sense told him that someone who was so obviously rich and well-bred probably really did know the president. Dona Constanza glanced at his shoulder and said, ‘Your number is FN3530076. I have already memorised it.’
Figueras and Dona Constanza stared each other down, she with absolute contempt, and he with a growing conviction that he had already lost. Then one of his soldiers, a tubby andbleary-eyed man with a sadistic face, piped up with, ‘Let’s kill the rich bitch, Comandante.’
Figueras, profoundly grateful for the excuse to break his gaze away from Dona Constanza’s, whirled around and slapped the astonished soldier across the face. ‘How dare you suggest such a disgraceful thing?’ he roared. ‘You dishonour the National Army! You will be court-martialled unless you apologise at once!’ He brought the butt
‘No need,’ said the woman, the corners of her mouth twisting ironically. ‘He is already in this very room. Perhaps you should look harder.’
Federico looked around again, saw nothing, and began to feel a kind of astonished confusion. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but . . .’
‘Your leader is a woman,’ she said. ‘If your sense of machismo is offended you may leave at once, but without your rifle, and with your testicles in your mouth.’
Deep shame came down upon the young boy and he hung his head bitterly. ‘I am very sorry, Senora,’ he said, ‘I just did not expect . . .’
‘Shut your mouth before you say anything stupid!’ she exclaimed. ‘I am not “Senora”, I am “companera”, and my name is Remedios. Now tell me why you are here.’
Federico recounted his story falteringly, and when he had finished, Remedios shook her head.
‘It is not enough to want revenge. I don’t want to fight alongside barbarians, it is barbarians against whom we fight.’
‘Why else should I fight?’ asked Federico, genuinely puzzled. ‘I want justice.’
‘They are not the same thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘I want you to remember what Guevara said, that all true revolutionaries are motivated by the profoundest feelings of love.’
‘I don’t understand!’ he said agitatedly.
‘Now look,’ she replied. ‘I suspect you of being ignorant and inexperienced, but you are young enough to learn. I also know that you are brave and persistent, which is good. Therefore I will provisionally accept you, and you will be taught everything in both theory and practice that you need to know, and I warn you that you will be fully extended both physically andmentally. Sometimes it will be torture. Goodbye for now. Garcia!’
The man who had brought him the coffee re-entered and led him out. On the way back to the shade the man said, ‘I suppose you are wondering why our leader is a woman.’
Federico made a noise in his throat that was intended to be noncommittal.
‘It is because,’ Garcia said, ‘she does not practise brutalities. We elected her when we realised that she had more brains and more balls than all of us put together.’
10
----
COMANDANTE FIGUERAS DISRUPTS A FIESTA
DONA CONSTANZA WAS caught for a moment between hispanic pride and a natural inclination to panic; it was not often she was confronted by a group of sweaty-looking uniformed ruffians asking strange questions. Tossing her head and looking at them disdainfully she found her dignity and said, ‘What Communists?’
‘What Communists!’ echoed Figueras. ‘If you “don’t know” where they are you must be one of them.’ He lowered his rifle and pointed it at Dona Constanza’s stomach.
She snorted and replied even more haughtily, ‘I am a Conservative and proud of it, and next time I see President Veracruz I shall personally inform him of your disgusting manners and violent temperament. Kindly don’t point that weapon at me.’
The Comandante was torn between fear and the temptation to ridicule. His instinct was to slap her down and humiliate her, but his common sense told him that someone who was so obviously rich and well-bred probably really did know the president. Dona Constanza glanced at his shoulder and said, ‘Your number is FN3530076. I have already memorised it.’
Figueras and Dona Constanza stared each other down, she with absolute contempt, and he with a growing conviction that he had already lost. Then one of his soldiers, a tubby andbleary-eyed man with a sadistic face, piped up with, ‘Let’s kill the rich bitch, Comandante.’
Figueras, profoundly grateful for the excuse to break his gaze away from Dona Constanza’s, whirled around and slapped the astonished soldier across the face. ‘How dare you suggest such a disgraceful thing?’ he roared. ‘You dishonour the National Army! You will be court-martialled unless you apologise at once!’ He brought the butt
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