Categoría: Inglés

In the Morning of Black Ice 

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Translated by  Marvin Najarro She leaves work, it’s around six in the evening, that day she cleaned two houses, the last one took her longer than usual because her Iranian employers had a Christmas celebration; a late Christmas they celebrate on January 7 in the Julian calendar as it has been explained to her by the house mistress in countless occasions when in the middle of her mopping chores she appear to tell her stories about her country and ancestors. Tomasina lets her talk while she mops incessantly; she barely understands English.   When she arrived she found the house turned…

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January 1st, Just Like Any Another Day

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Translated  by Katrina Hassan Catalina buys the chicken first thing in the morning, together with the vegetables that will accompany the dish. She also buys the fruit to make punch. She would like to make tamales but it is too much work to do on her own. When Catalina finishes work she is too tired. She barely has any energy left to clean her small apartment, where she lives with her two kids. Juan is 12 and Guadalupe is 3. Today she must go to the laundromat because her building doesn’t have a laundry room. She is running late to prepare…

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Xiomara Castro, the Rebirth of Honduras

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Translated by  Marvin Najarro Painful have been the humiliations suffered by the undocumented Central American migrants trying to cross Mexico to reach the United States, seeking to escape the institutional violence of the narco-state, namely Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras. The notorious Northern Triangle that opportunistic politicians toss around in their speeches on behalf of the transnational corporations, which in exchange for some crumbs they throw around, sack the entrails of the land, destroying what it doesn’t belong to them but to the peoples who have been reviled for centuries.    Victims of corruption, impoverished and mistreated, these people have been…

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Hating Cuba Just for the Sake of It

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Translated by  Marvin Najarro We, the generation of amnesia, the useless herd of children who grew up in Latin American post-dictatorship, were left with nothing but the bagasse. They took the books away from us, the musical education, art classes, and physical education. All at once we were left with no school yard, they left us without desks, ceilings, and finally without schools; in these countries plundered by mobs of ungrateful sons who dared to spit out the bowels where they came out. And then one day, they left us without a home.  Consequently, thirsty, we absorbed the gall of betrayal…

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The Break of Dawn

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Translated  by Katrina Hassan During the last three years of my elementary school, my days were spent wearing donkey ears during recess time.  I had to face the wall, looking towards the classrooms. I was punished every single recess time, every day, without fail. I didn’t even get to enjoy one day of play. I always wished and yearned for more than my life circumstances could permit. I always dreamed of liberty and equality at a young age. I was a tremendously wild girl that didn’t fit the norm. I was full of energy and thought of myself as part of…

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