The water still

When I think about it now I doubt that it really happened. I think maybe it was a figment of a child's imagination. I guess that's the way some people block out traumas of their life, simply by telling themselves subconsciously that what you saw you didn't see. I can't say that I had nightmares about it or that it deeply affected my personality. Maybe it did and I just don't know all the angles to my inner mind. I must admit though that when I look back at that vague memory, my legs freeze up, my spine turns cold and I feel my throat being compressed.
I was about 5 years of age, very young and not aware of all the hidden things that people hide in the everyday life of a society. Back then I've been told that I spent most of my time being looked after by my grandmother. My parents during the week would work and my grand mother was the one who would baby sit. For some reason or another my father hadn't taken me to her house, it must have been a Monday. Even though he hadn't taken me my grandmother's brother, great uncle Alfonso, had come to pick me up at the house. He got my things and picked me up and we were on our way to take the bus to momma's house.
Uncle Alfonso I remember to be a big man, tall and thick. He had a thick mustache and dark eyes black hair that never seemed to have any other color around it. Black hair like you see in a black and white photograph. In my memory he was a black and white photograph. This tall man brother to my grandmother had an awful reputation as a drunk. In fact all I can remember about him was that he was always drunk. This Monday morning he wasn't drunk; maybe hung over but not drunk. When I close my eyes I can still remember the smell of vodka on his breath, but he was not falling all over himself like I was accustomed to see.
I don't remember his voice and even if I could I could not describe it to you. When he was sober he was a man of few words. He didn't talk and I didn't talk. The day was like most dry season days in Central America. It wasn't muggy or anything. It was a sunny day but with a fresh breeze that didn't let the sun get a hold of your back. When I think back I think of it as the perfect day to go out on a ride. It was like a day that is described in a fairytale. It would have been the perfect day to go to the beach.
From the barrio where my parents lived to the house where my grandmother lived we had to board two buses. So we got on one at the corner of the street where my parents lived and we were off. I don't remember much about the ride. Just the beautiful day. When we got to down town we had to get off the first bus and walk a few blocks to take the second bus that would take us to the other side of town.
We get off the bus and we start walking to the other bus stop. We had maybe gone half way when Uncle Alfonso stopped. There was an abandoned building or a building that was crumbling I don't know and he was staring at it. I turned to look around and saw a big crowd of people there looking inside. I thought we were going to keep going when to my surprise Uncle Alfonso squatted down to my level and told me to stay put right where I was that he would be right back. He was a tall man, a thick man, a dark haired man, a drunk and now at this moment I found out that he was an irresponsible man and a nosey man.
Who in their right mind leaves a 5 year old child on the sidewalk of a busy street for one minute in a downtown area of a big capitol city like San Salvador? When he squatted down and told me to stay put, I was scared and at the same time pissed off that I had to humor his nosey impulse. So I stood there. While I'm standing there people are walking past me going to towards the remains of the building that once stood. So you can imagine this little boy with his corduroy pants and his De LaCost polo shirt tucked in with his arms crossed and poutty face not knowing weather to cry or get pissed off. At this point that my uncle was gone maybe 2 minutes (felt more like 20 to me at the time) I made the decision to go and have a look see for myself.
I turned toward the crowd and started walking and as soon as I entered the mass of the crowd I imagine that my uncle was making his way out of the same mass so he didn't see me. I made my way through the crowd. Each person I passed I made my way into the darker ruins of the building. I finally came to a clearing where the people had stood back. In the middle of the circle was a pila. A pila was a water still where people keep water in Latin American countries to have when the water service goes out.
I stood there and thought for a second that this couldn't be the big attraction. So I went that one step further. I went that one mile further in my life. In that second I went far into being mature. I tipped toed over the ruble around the still which was enough to give the elevation to see inside. The rest are just flashes in my mind. I remember seeing a ripped sky blue shirt. I remember seeing the flesh separated. Inside the water still were the pieces of a man. He had been placed in the still or killed there I don't know. Each member had been hacked off by a machete. Neatly, his arm was detached from his shoulder, his head from his neck, his lower legs from their knees. Everything stood still for me. I couldn't even hear the crowd roar behind me. For that moment it was me and the pieces of a man that I would never know even his name. The sky blue shirt was sprayed with brownish spots that without doubt were dried blood. For that moment I was presented to and shook hands with death for the first time. I was so afraid I couldn't react. In that silence I stood, nothing in the universe but me and the still and all was quiet.
I could of stood their for centuries just staring of what use to be life; then as if to rescue me from some deep coma someone grabbed me. Just for a half a second I thought that the severed hand of this man had come to life and wanted to pull me down into the still with him. My heart raced blood going to all parts of my body just as I imagined the blood coming out from all parts of the dead man's body. Who ever it was he was strong. I was dragged away from the still, my eyes concentrated on the side of cement that I looked over. It almost seemed a thousand years ago when I got back to the sidewalk and saw who had dragged me away. Uncle Alfonso was pretty pissed at me he yelled at me a couple of things that I don't remember to this day exactly what he said. The word cabron must have been part of the speech. With that scolding I came out of the fear enough to cry. Then I was able to cry.
At the time all I could understand was that someone had killed him. For what, I don't know. Then things started to become evident to me, things that were there but I didn't see. The war, the politics, the crimes of the authorities. I didn't understand all this but now it was all visible.