Between Brevity and Memory
More than twenty years have passed since the Uruguayan writer brought forth the book “Women” (1995), a work inhabited by brevity and memory. Two of those women have traversed decades to insist that the book remains alive here and now. The third woman who shelters this text was not part of the original book; she is merely the continuation of those first forty fiery women who spoke through Eduardo Galeano.
January
In the month of her birthday, Rigoberta Menchú commemorates the fifth anniversary of her book “K’aslemalil-Vivir. El caminar de Rigoberta Menchú Tum en el Tiempo.” It is just a child who has already learned to walk and will surely speak through other mouths. In her more than six decades, she knows that the journey is long and that everything has changed, and at the same time, nothing has changed, that everything is still to be won in this new year. She begins: “My name is Rigoberta Menchú, and thus my consciousness was born…”
February
Patricia Ariza writes one random afternoon, “Today I am not afraid because a dragonfly came to my house and perched on my shoulder. Maybe it wanted to tell me something good.”
Anyone can cross paths with Patricia in the streets of downtown Bogotá. Perhaps they see her trying to reach the rooftops with her gaze, maybe sensing the dragonfly that visited her this afternoon.
Almost always, when she walks down the street, she meets a friend whom she greets, hugs, and then the friend perches on her shoulder. Surely Patricia will say something good to her.
March
Esperanza can only wait for the weekend to rest and wish that March 8th passes quickly. The days and hours of the first week of this month are full of work for all the women who, on the eve of the “celebration,” cut, wrap, and pack. A rain of roses, sweets, and good wishes floods the city that day. The most important thing this month is the women, though in the month of women there is no holiday; the only one is fifteen days later and commemorates Saint Joseph. Tomorrow, we must work.
