cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco
cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco
cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco
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—¡Na<strong>de</strong> juerte, chero, hay que salir!...<br />
—Voy nadando, oyó. ¿Quién babosos<br />
será ése que vino a jo<strong>de</strong>rnos?<br />
Una voz cercana se <strong>de</strong>jó oír tranquila y<br />
orientera:<br />
—Van nadando al contra, hijós. Laguna<br />
a<strong>de</strong>ntro siogan; síganme a yo.<br />
Aquella seguridá les dio confianza; y a<br />
nado e chucho buscaron el braciado <strong>de</strong>l<br />
<strong>de</strong>sconocido, que los guió, los guió, los<br />
guió hasta que asentaron ja<strong>de</strong>antes en<br />
el lodito mechudo <strong>de</strong> la orilla. Al tanteyo<br />
buscaron el monte y se tendieron a<br />
<strong>de</strong>scansar. El negro Calistro estaba<br />
casi acalambrado por el yelo <strong>de</strong>l agua.<br />
Quería preguntar al <strong>de</strong>sconocido quién<br />
era, y darle las gracias; pero el juelgo se<br />
le atorzonaba en la garganta como un<br />
tapón y no podía hablar.<br />
Dejó al fin <strong>de</strong> pringar. Un vientecito<br />
brincador empezó a barrer el cielo.<br />
El sol logró meter un rayo dioro en<br />
la laguna, como carrizo en jícara, y<br />
empezó a beberse la cebada espumosa<br />
<strong>de</strong> aquella ñeblina. A las tres se vido<br />
clarito las dos rodillas prietas <strong>de</strong>l volcán<br />
acurrucado allá en Oriente. Como<br />
enormes esponjas oscuras, fueron<br />
apareciendo las ramazones <strong>de</strong> los<br />
palos asomados a la playa. En el patio<br />
<strong>de</strong>l rancho cercano, la tarraya colgada<br />
<strong>de</strong> una pértiga parecía la telaraña <strong>de</strong>l<br />
callar, para coger moscas <strong>de</strong> ruido.<br />
72<br />
“Swim hard, buddy! We gotta get out!<br />
“I’m swimming’, man. What the hell<br />
came to fuck us up?”<br />
Nearby a voice was heard, quiet and<br />
orienting:<br />
“You’re swimmin’ against the ti<strong>de</strong>, sons.<br />
If you keep goin’ you will drown, follow<br />
me.”<br />
The rescuer gave them confi<strong>de</strong>nce.<br />
And paddling doggy-style they sought<br />
the arm of the stranger, who gui<strong>de</strong>d<br />
them, gui<strong>de</strong>d them, gui<strong>de</strong>d them until<br />
they were settled, panting, on the mud<br />
of the shore. Blindly they had to feel<br />
their way around through the bushes<br />
and lay to rest. Calistro, the black man,<br />
felt cramped from the coldness of<br />
the water. He wanted to ask who the<br />
stranger was and thank him, but his<br />
breath was stuck in his throat like a<br />
stopper and he could not speak.<br />
It finally stopped raining. A jumpy<br />
wind began to sweep the sky. The sun<br />
managed to project a gol<strong>de</strong>n glimmer<br />
onto the pond, like reeds in a gourdtree,<br />
and started to drink up the frothy barley<br />
of that haze. At three o’clock they clearly<br />
saw the two black knees of the volcano<br />
nestled in the East. Looking onto the<br />
beach the branches of the trees, like<br />
enormous dark sponges, appeared. In<br />
the yard of the nearest shack, a castout<br />
net hung from a pole looked like a web<br />
of silence to catch flies of noise.