Author Archives: alejandro herrera

11/18/21

A Parade with Few (Almost None) Comradery

Towards the beginning of Reinaldo Arenas’s “The Parade Ends”, the story’s ‘I’ describes a moment where the crowd around the fence comes together and sings the national anthem in a “single, unanimous and thundering voice” (102). This is one of several moments in the story where the crowd is characterized as being a single being with the same afflictions, aspirations, and intentions. The I describes a sense of community in the event: “In droves, through the shower of rocks, the dust, and the shooting, they’re entering, we’re entering. All kinds of people. Some I know or at least have seen before, but now we greet each other euphorically, in a communion of mutual sincerity, never manifested before, as if we were old and dear friends,” (118). In these few examples, it seems as though everyone is going through this horrific event together. The crowd is described as comprised of people, not just feet and lumps.

However, this sense of community is short-lived, for the crowd is more often than not characterized as an obstacle or an inconvenience to the I rather than as a group with whom he identifies with. As soon as the second page of the story, the crowd is described as “a whole arsenal of voiceferating lumps that move […] and that anly cause contractions, […] leaving everyone trapped in one big spiderweb which stretches out on one side, contracts here, rises over there, but doesn’t manage to break loose anywhere,’ (99). At different points in the story, such as this one, the people in the crowd become an inconvenience that keeps the I from reaching the lizard. There is still a description of a collection of individuals forming a group, a ‘big spiderweb’, but the group is not characterized as something that brings solidarity and community to those within it. Instead, the group functions as a trap, keeping everyone inside the horror, letting none escape. “The mass retreated without being able to retreat, they pressed even more tightly together […] and whoever fell […] his last sight would be the thousands and thousands of feet in a circular stampede, stepping on him and returning to step on him again,” (102). What the group shares, at least how it’s written, is their desperation, but that desperation, selfish, makes it so they trample over other people to get what they want. When thousands of individuals have this same desperation it creates a group that doesn’t allow any of them to get out. In other words, it seems as though the individual desperation of each person accumulates so they all encase each other in the group, inhibiting the ability of all to leave. The circumstances bring them together, not a sense of comradery.

10/14/21

Ronie is the one who watches TV.

One of the most eye-catching subjects in the film “The Widows of Thursdays” is its evaluation of masculinity. Each one of the members of the group of men (Ronie, El Tano, Gustavo, and Martin) has some struggle– or lack thereof– with their masculinity. Martin’s is very obvious; he has just been laid off from work in the middle of an economic recession and cannot bring himself to tell his wife. His wife and his daughter both address him without much respect if any. Ronie is in a similar situation– but I’ll get back to him later. Gustavo, easily the most unsympathetic of the bunch, has rages and abuses his wife despite some part of him not wanting to do so. Arguably this frustration is what leads him to join Tano in his group suicide.  Tano is interesting, as he seems to not be struggling at all with his masculinity. However, I think he is a representation of toxic masculinity and sets up expectations for the rest of his compadres. He is the one with the perfect family, the money, the soulless attitude towards business and those he takes money from. Martin in specific I think is someone who compares himself with Tano a lot. Tano is the first whom he tells about losing his job, he takes Tano’s advice and ultimately is the first one to follow Tano to death. Next to Tano, Martin feels inadequate. However, it’s clear that Tano’s way of life is not healthy and that it doesn’t lead to the paradise imagined by the rest of his orbiters. His failure to be loved by his wife ultimately leads to the life he built around himself to seem hollow. Tano’s fortress of masculinity is broken in a single stroke.

This is where Ronie comes in. Unlike Martin, Ronie doesn’t fall in line with Tano’s way of thinking. Instead, he questions it and explains how he sees things. He might be a burden to his wife, he says, but that is not all she loves him for. Ronie recognizes that this pursuit of masculinity leads to nothing, and that he is better off living an honest life. Despite his circumstances (jobless and disconnected son) he is able to escape his friends’ fate by evading toxic masculinity.

09/24/21

On Ak’abal’s “In the K’iche Language”

Situated on a section of its own, Humberto Ak’abal’s poem “In the K’iche Language” provides an interesting framework for the rest of the collection. It is the only poem we read from this collection that is not part of the “500 Years” section. In fact, it is separated from the rest of the poems and has its own accompanying image, which displays a Guatemalan cemetery. The image depicts different cells of people celebrating around graves. When studying it, it is difficult not to recall the “Dia de Los Muertos” tradition generally thought to be Mexican. However, this tradition originates from some parts of Mayan culture, from the ceremony by the name of ‘Hanal Pixan’. Hanal Pixan is a day where families gather and spend the day celebrating with the spirits of their deceased loved ones. It is a tradition that looks at death not as a finality, but as a part of life. Having this image before the “In the K’iche Language” poem makes perfect sense. The poem itself is very simple, it has two verses, four lines, and has a very clear message. “In the K’iche Language/ we don’t say good-bye/ but katinch’ab’ej chik/ (I’ll talk to you again),” (page 152) When paired along with the image beforehand, this way of saying goodbye sheds some light into how Ak’abal’s culture addresses death and the impermanence of things. It seems that to them things don’t end, and it is expected to see things again. Going back to the placement of the poem in the collection, I think it’s interesting to keep in mind what follows it. The next section, 500 Years, is entirely about the effect of colonialism on Indigenous cultures, and most of the poems in it discuss the subsequent plight on them. I think that “In the K’iche Language” and its placement in the section before, could be interepreted as Ak’abal’s way of saying:”We’re still here, and we’re gonna stay here. Despite everything.” It gives some hope to the 500 Years section, in retrospect.