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cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco

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Nadie sabía cuál era el secreto <strong>de</strong> aquel<br />

carri zo llorón. Bía <strong>de</strong> tener una telita <strong>de</strong><br />

araña por <strong>de</strong>ntro, o una rendija falsa,<br />

o un chaflán carculado... La fama <strong>de</strong>l<br />

pitero346 Chabelo, se había cundido <strong>de</strong><br />

jlores como un campaniyal. Lo llamaban<br />

los domingos y ya cobraba la vesita,<br />

juera <strong>de</strong> juerga o <strong>de</strong> velorio, <strong>de</strong> bautizo<br />

o <strong>de</strong> simple pasar.<br />

Un día el negro Nayo se arrimó tantito<br />

a Chabelo «boteya», cuando éste<br />

ensayaba su flauta, sentado en el cerco<br />

<strong>de</strong> piedras <strong>de</strong>l corral. Le son rió amoroso<br />

y le estuvo escuchando, como perro<br />

que mueve el rabo.<br />

—¿Oyí, negró, querés que tenseñe a<br />

tocar?...<br />

Por la cara pelotera <strong>de</strong>l negrito, pasó un<br />

relámpago <strong>de</strong> felicidad.<br />

—Mire, chero, y yo le vuá pagar el<br />

sábado, pero no me vaya a tirar...<br />

* * *<br />

Después <strong>de</strong> las primeras lecciones,<br />

Chabelo el pitero le arquiló la flauta<br />

al negro para unos días. El negro se<br />

<strong>de</strong>svelaba domando el carrizo; y lo<br />

domó a tal punto, que los vecinos más<br />

vecinos, que estaban a las tres cuadras,<br />

paraban la oreja y <strong>de</strong>cían:<br />

346. Flautista.<br />

347. As a term of en<strong>de</strong>arment.<br />

180<br />

Nobody knew the secret of that crying<br />

reed. It must’ve had a little spi<strong>de</strong>r web<br />

on the insi<strong>de</strong>, or a false crack, or a<br />

calculated bevel. The fame of Chabelo<br />

the flutist had flourished like Bellflowers<br />

blossoms. People called him every<br />

Sunday and he charged for the visit,<br />

whether it be for a party, a funeral, a<br />

baptism or any passing occasion.<br />

One day, Nayo “the black man” came<br />

to Chabelo “Bottle” while he was<br />

practicing with his flute sitting on the<br />

stone fence in the pasture. Nayo smiled<br />

at him lovingly and listened like a dog<br />

wagging his tail.<br />

“Hey negro, 347 do you want me to teach<br />

you how to play?”<br />

A lightning of happiness came to the<br />

ball-like face of the black man.<br />

“I’ll pay you on Saturday but look<br />

buddy, don’t you fail me...”<br />

* * *<br />

After the first few lessons, Chabelo,<br />

the flutist, agreed to rent his flute to<br />

the black man for a few days. The<br />

Blackman stayed up late taming the<br />

reed, and he tamed it to the point that<br />

the neighboring neighbors, who lived<br />

three blocks away, pricked up their ears<br />

and said:

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