Natnwe - Flying bird

(1)

In Bolivia, children “take food and gifts to the graves on the Day of the Dead and leave them for the deceased.” It’s a combination of ancient beliefs and Christian traditions. It’s a pretty fitting scenario. Even the most superstitious Bolivian villagers wouldn’t believe that the dead would come out of their graves and walk around on such occasions. But I do.

Lavata is a small mining town. It has a population of about five or six thousand people and is nestled in the foothills of the Andes Mountains. It is a very remote place. There are no passenger flights from Peru. So I had to travel in an old cargo plane.

It was raining heavily when I arrived. But luckily, I found a rental car parked near the airport building. The driver was a red-haired man. He was wearing a large yellow raincoat and a straw hat. He seemed very surprised to find someone who wanted to rent a car. He seemed happy.

"To the hotel, sir?"

He asked, grabbing my briefcase.

"Sixty Bag"

I said.

“That’s a hotel, sir. There’s only one hotel in our town.”

He said, baring his teeth.

The car was dirty. It was raining. As we drove down the street towards the city, where the lights were shining, I felt very disappointed. I didn't understand myself. What was I doing here, what was the matter, what was the meaning? I was like a cat chasing its own tail. Wasn't it just following a piece of news that didn't exist? It was even more disappointing to see the car. Our car was speeding down the narrow streets, turning and turning, and coming and going. On the left and right sides of the street, there were small, low-rise houses.

After a while, we arrived at the central square in the middle of the city. In the middle of the square is a beautiful fountain. A relic from the colonial era. Water is flowing from the mouths and noses of the statues. It is amazing that everything is still in good condition.

The hotel is at the end of a large square. As I get out of the car, I see some people gathered near the pillars on the other side of the street. They are well-dressed. The smell of cigarettes is in the air.

"What are you doing?"

I asked.

"It's All Saints' Day, a festive occasion."

"They don't look very happy," the driver shrugged.

"It's raining, but we can't set off fireworks. And this festival is supposed to be peaceful. If you wait a moment, they'll go to the cemetery, to say goodbye to the people who have passed on. We call this festival the Day of the Dead. I don't know if you've heard of it, sir."

"It's the same in Mexico."

I paid him the fare and entered the hotel. The hotel was also a work of art from the good old days. But it was starting to fall into disrepair. The plaster was peeling off the walls. There were large stains on the ceiling. The hotel clerk seemed as surprised as the driver when he saw me unexpectedly. He quickly put down the newspaper from his hand.

“I want a room.”

"Yes, sir, how long will it take?"

"Just one night, I'll be back in Peru tomorrow."

I gave him the registration card so he could take notes.

He wrote in the register...

"Did you come on business?" The teacher asked.. from a mining company.

"Yes?"

I opened my wallet, took out a ten-dollar bill, and placed it near the registration book, as the registration clerk stood and watched.

"I read in the newspapers in Lima that a man died here on Monday. They said he collapsed and died in the square in front of your hotel. When the police searched his suitcase, they found fifty thousand dollars, three names, and three passports."

"Yes, sir, my dear friend, is the teacher... his friend?"

"No, but... I think I'll know if I see him."

"Currently, his body is with Subha Raja. It is customary to keep it for seven days to await relatives."

"They told me the same thing"

"Lieutenant Teningome is the police chief handling this case. The police station is across the square."

"Dealing with the police in these types of cases doesn't really work."

I took out another ten-dollar bill and placed it near the first ten-dollar bill.

"I'm just a reporter, this could be a story for me to write."

"Oh, you're a journalist, how can I help you?"

His eyes lit up. “Boyar... what can you tell me about him?” “Not much to say. He came from Sucre last week. He said he was waiting for a friend to come.”

"Did that person arrive?"

"I don't know that, sir."

"Tell me what he looks like."

"He's about 65 years old, he could be older than that, not younger, yes, he could be older. But... it's hard to say, he looks quite young, tall, and huge."

"What did you say?"

"He's a giant, not tall. I'd say he's big in stature. His arms are wide, his neck is thick."

He said, extending his arms.

"Are you fat?"

"Not thin, but strong. I speak Spanish well, but my German accent is a bit off."

“Are you sure you have a German accent?”

"Sure, German engineers come here often. I remember their voices well."

"What is written in the registration book? Can I see it?"

He turned the register over to me. I saw his name in the line above mine. I saw his signature. He had a dot on the number seven when he signed the date. It was European in style.

I nodded and pushed the two bills towards the hotel clerk.

"Thank you."

He picked up two bills and quickly put them in his chest pocket.

"I'll show you the room for the teacher."

I looked at my watch. It was already seven o'clock.

"Is it because I'm going to Subha Raja at this time?"

"Yes, sir, there is a funeral director on duty at the funeral home all night long. We have a custom. We watch over the dead for three days, day and night. If..."

He hesitated here for a moment. "I wish I could come back to life."

"Yes, sir. Death is the last resort. That's why it's important to be very careful. Go left, sir. Take the first road you come across. At the end of the road, you'll see the house of Subraza. There's no way to go wrong. There's a blue light on the door. Subraza's name is Hugo, tell him Rafi Marino sent him."

"Thank you."

“And sir... if you want something to eat when you get back, sir, I’ll stay all night.”

He picked up the newspaper. I went outside the hotel. The crowd was already gathering for the cemetery. I stood on the top step and watched. It was like what you see in Mexico. Two men in the front were holding large torches. They were dressed in traditional costumes. Behind them were children. In the middle were holding candles. Some of the candles had gone out because of the rain. The adults were holding food and drinks.