| Helen Como ha cambiado todo Helena el lamento por la tierra que qued� a tu espalda las iniciales sorpresas ante las altas uniformes y despintadas torres del imperio antes las anchas avenidas ahogadas en grandes capas de nieve ante los letreros one way, no parking any time, quarters only. La incomodidad del calentador los pies chocando con la alfombra que dorm�a delante de ellos la marca en la rodilla izquierda de cuando la escalera el�ctrica se desplom� ante ti. Ya no m�s carta familiares Helena ahora te atrae la grandeza del museo Intr�pido ese portaviones que habita las aguas del Hudson, en el puerto de New York. Solo te sorprende su grandeza la historia de sus importantes haza�as guerreras -como dicen sus gu�as- su traves�a mar�tima, las millas na�ticas recorridas. Pero no has visto bien sus paredes. Ah, s�lo te sorprende su grandeza. Sus paredes h�bilmente decoradas para ocultar las v�ctimas de ayer. Ese inmenso barco que pas� un d�a por tu isla a ver qu� pasaba. Como ha cambiado todo Helena tu madre reclama que en tu �ltima carta faltaba a tu nombre la A final. Y respondes que ahora es as� porque tu boyfriend americano te llama Helen y dices a tus amigas que �l se acuesta contigo que se encierra en el cuarto contigo que se desahoga contigo pero nunca sale contigo pues claro Helena que dir�n sus amigos de una morenita como t�. Y la madre de �l que verg�enza sentir�a ella no entender�a tu ingl�s menos tu espa�ol. A ti nada te importa, lo encuentras muy nice mejor que a los hombres latinos que son muy machistas y �l se sigue acostando contigo y sale con la otra, con la rubia americana. No, jam�s un hombre latino porque y tu progreso. Pero se te olvida que cuando los latinos son machistas los gringos son...exc�senme el suspenso. Ay, Helen que dif�cil se me hace llamarte de eso modo as� sin la A final. Pero comprender�s mi afecto por tu familia. Pedro -mi amigo- hace tiempo te hubiera puteado por confudir el progreso con la estupidez. Como ha cambiado todo Helena el radio cassete, el control remoto la washing machine, la diswasher todo eso que nunca imaginaste su existencia. No m�as comida, fiesta o letrina en tu vocabulario now is party, lunch and toilet baile de rock, paseo por todos los Estados y el abrigo de bisonte que no guardas ni en verano. Como ha cambiado todo Helena y lejos muchos sue�an contigo y esperan tu ayuda, mientras t� planificas tus pr�xima vacaciones a Tok�o, Par�s o Frankfort. Cuando llegan las cartas familiares las rompe antes de leerlas because you think they will ask you for money y no puedes, porque entonces t� que ya sabes en que vas a gastar tus ingresos de los pr�ximos tres a�os. Ay Helena, como te desespera esperando la fiesta de Thanksgiving y el d�a de Halloween. Es incre�ble Helena que tu partida de nacimiento diga: Cabimota secci�n de Jimayaco entre mucha hambre y poca tierra provincia de La Vega a media vida de la civilizaci�n Rep�blica Dominicana Del libro Helen, 1986 |
| Comun�quese conmigo a: |
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| Obras recientes del autor |
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| P�gina literaria de Franklin Guti�rrez |
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| Helen How things have changed, Helena, the anguished cry for a homeland left behind the first encounter with the tall, uniform faded towers of the empire, the wide avenues buried under immense layers of snow, the traffic signs, one way, no parking anytime, quarters only. The daily toils with a heater, with feet bumping into sleeping rugs, and the scar on your left knee, sad reminder of an escalator's collapse. No time for letters home, Helena. now you are enthralled with the greatness of the Intrepid Museum, the aircraft carrier inhabiting New York's port and the Hudson's waters. Taken aback only by its greatness and its illustrious history of wartime deeds -as the guide books remind us- its sea voyages its impressive record of nautical miles. Take a good look at its walls. Oh, taken aback only by its greatness. Its walls smartly decorated cannot hide the victims of bygone years. This immense ship once happened to pass by your island just to see was happening. How things have changed, Helena, your mother misses the final A left out of your name in your letter last letter home. This is how things are now, you tell her, because your American boyfriend calls you Helen, and you tell your friends how he beds you how he stay in your room how he is free with you how he never goes out with you but, of course, Helene, what will his friends say of a dark-skinned Mama like you. And his mother, picture her shame, unable to understand your English, much less your Spanish. So what? you answer, you find him my nice better than those Latin machos and so he continues to bed you while he dates a Northamerican blonde No, never a Latin man, for how are you to improve your lot? Are you forgetting that when Latin are machos The gringos are� Forgive this pause. Ah, Helen, I find it difficult to call you by that name the missing A You must understand my fondness for your folks. Pedro-mi amigo-would have long called you una puta for confusing stupidity with improving your lot. How things have changed, Helena, the radio cassette, remote control, la washing machine, la dishwasher, treasures beyond your finest dreams. Comida, fiesta, letrina, never again to be found in your conversation. Now you speak of parties, lunch and toitet, rock, tours of the U.S. of A and other countries and, of course, your mink coat, inseparable companion even in your summer days. How things have changed, Helena, far away many are still dreaming and awaiting your next trip to Tokyo, Paris or Frankfurt. Letters from the beloved homeland tearfully left behind are torn before the are read because you think that they will ask you for money and your income for the next three years has already been spent. Oh, Helena, impatiently awaiting Thanksgiving and Halloween. One would never believe, Helena, what your birth certificate states: Cabimota, a sector of Jimayaco between much hunger and little land province of La Vega half a life away from civilization Rep�blica Dominicana. Tr. Daysi Cocco De Filippis From Helen, 1986 |
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