Reframing Latin America: A Cultural Theory Reading ... - BGSU Blogs

are we there yet? testimonial literature 325
the village who can work as hard as he. I have already seen the two of them
fall asleep while sitting at the dinner table [. . .].
[Editor’s note: Celsa has just fi nished telling the story of when she and
her young sisters were home when their house burned down.] You know, I
don’t really know if what I remember is what I remember or if it is something
put into my head by other people who have told me the story over and
over again. I was only fi ve years old. How could I ever remember something
from when I was fi ve were it not for people putting those ideas into my
head or reinforcing my horrible memories with their own remembrances.
For example, I cannot remember running around screaming and screaming.
It might have happened; in fact, it sounds like what I would have done. But
I think that was an idea put in my head by someone else because, truly, I
don’t remember running around screaming but I keep telling the story because
everyone else says that’s what I did. So I believe it; I believe it because
I’ve told the story so many times that in my own mind it has become real
even if it had never happened [. . .].
Chapter IV. When I Went to Mexico City to Work [. . .]
We were in [my friend’s] village about two weeks. I nearly died. It was so
remote and uncivilized. They lived like savages. There were no streets, just
paths through the woods. Although my village of San Antonio is remote,
it is not as sad as is hers. From what I saw the people were very timid and
ignorant. And they showed no respect for you. If they got in your way you
were the one who had to move, even the little ones wouldn’t move and
showed no respect. At least here and other places I’ve known when two
people are on the same path each will step aside and try to accommodate
the other [. . .].
I can’t understand why everyone didn’t leave the village and go elsewhere.
It was boring. There was nothing to do except walk around. We went
to the river to wash clothes twice and once we went to fi sh for something
to eat. All there was to eat were some sick chickens. That’s all [. . .].
Chapter VI. More Ignorant but More Obedient [. . .]
Nowadays, early morning is the only time there is peace in the village.
Everybody has a radio or a television going all hours of the night and day.
Even the motor of the neighbor’s refrigerator can be heard all night long.
Nature’s sounds are being replaced by machine sounds. I can’t help but
think that Nature is not getting its proper rest and peace. The night is for