Historical Fiction Winner: 1st Place "The Great Man Named Papa"
Here in Guatemala, there is a saying: he who doesn't risk a penny doesn't make a peso. This is what Papa told me before he died; I can still distinctly remember how he made that peso: it was back when we were on the streets, huddled in groups of other families. There was no shelter, hardly any food, and sickness ran rampant everywhere you looked; it was only through sticking together that we could smile over being alive. Papa and the other parents provided for all of us, and they would work almost all day to get practically nothing. When the sun was long gone, the parents would secretly gather and share their tears and woes with each other while the children slept. Little did they know that I was always listening; I had nightmares over the grim predictions they made, the stories they told, but amidst all of this, Papa’s voice would eventually ring out like a requiem bell: “We live like this because we let it!” He’d say. “Nothing will change if we sit here doing nothing!” These words, at first, would merely create a grave silence, but as time went on, the silence would be accompanied by eyes glimmering not with tears but with hope. I knew it was hope, even as a child, because I could see their dreams in their eyes glowing, as though it was within their reach.
As time passed, Papa and the other workers would be gone for longer periods of time without any explanation. I’d ask Mama where he was, but all she’d say was that he was working hard for us. Then, after an especially long disappearance, he came back to us with a smile plastered on his face. He told Mama it’s over and hugged her closely as shock filled her eyes. I approached Papa slowly and asked him what happened. When he turned around, I looked into his eyes and couldn’t see Papa within them. I was so shocked by this stranger in front of me that I tensed up when he put his hands on my shoulders, as though whatever terrifying energy was possessing him would pass on to me.
His smile reached from ear to ear and exposed his blackened teeth. It was so beautiful. “Adolfo, mi hijo, everything is going to change!”
Mama went over to my baby brother and hugged him close. With fear gripping at my soul, I asked anxiously, “What is it?! Is it something bad?!”
Papa let out a hearty laugh and turned me around. “Does this look like something bad?!”
I stared at all the smiles and dancing occurring in the streets; it overflowed with that energy I saw in Papa’s eyes. Suddenly, my feet leave the ground, and I find myself on Papa’s shoulders, revealing beyond the street miles upon miles of people celebrating. My young eyes were filled with wonder at the sight.
“We made a huge difference today, Adolfo! No one will ever have to live like this ever again!” He yelled over the cheers with ecstasy.
My fingers played with his greasy hair as a smile spread across my face. “We’re gonna have a home?!”
“Better than that; we’re gonna have a farm with all kinds of animals!”
I got really excited then. Our own farm! “Really, Papa?!”
“Yes, and a big kitchen for your beautiful mama to cook delicious dinners in!” He hoisted me so that I was standing on his shoulders, his huge calloused hands keeping me steady. I laughed as his voice reached a shout: “And this new Guatemala you’re seeing now, mi hijo, will be all yours!”
And it really was. With presidente Arévalo in place, he did what no leader did before and made everything better for everyone, not just the rich. Papa never returned as late as he did, with a dirty face and soulless eyes; he came home early enough to greet Carlos and I with a smile. Eventually, we saved up enough money to get a small apartment. For the first time in all our lives, Carlos and I had a roof over our heads. We ran all over the apartment floors the first time we moved in, touching and marveling in everything. But as we enjoyed our new luxuries, Papa always reminded us to never forget where we started. I was proud to find that no matter what happened, he would always try to understand another person.
As I grew older, I became curious about things I never would’ve thought of before, one of them being where Papa disappeared to long ago. So, one day, I approached him after he returned from work and asked. His mouth became a flat line, and he asked me to take a seat, saying he thought I was old enough to keep a secret. He told me that he was fighting for a better Guatemala. He told me that a lot of people got hurt for it and that he helped lead them. He told me that he got hurt as well, revealing to me a long scar on his arm. I was used to seeing these injuries on him because of his work, but then, a thought crossed my mind: what if he was never working in the first place? What if he was…
“Why did you keep this from me?” I asked, my lip quivering. “I could’ve helped the revolución and fought half your battles!”
“Niño tonto!” He exclaimed, rising from his chair. My anger cowered away at the sight of his. “Do not be so stupid! You were a child; how could I even think of bringing you into that?!” After a long pause, he took a deep breath and sat down, his weary eyes looking up at me. “Adolfo, I want you to learn how to read and write, go to college, become anything you want to be…”
“But Papa, I want to be like you! I want to fight and be a great man, not a scholar!”
“A great man?” He laughed half-heartedly and sighed. “Adolfo, a man doesn’t become great that easily; what makes a man great is his heart. Whether it belongs to his country, his family, or himself, if his heart shines through to others, he is a great man in their eyes. My heart belongs to a better life for our family, and it shone through enough to get us this apartment and eventually, a farm.”
“It also got you those scars…” I said, quietly.
“Yes, it did,” Papa said, biting his lip. “But I only got these scars because I couldn’t control my heart. I don’t want that to happen to you, too.”
“But I don’t understand, how does getting an education stop me from getting scars?”
“All the scars I’ve gotten are because I didn’t have a head to stop myself; I was young, foolish. And now that I’m finally wiser, I’m regretting all those mistakes. Not all men with shining hearts are great men; I can assure you, I am not a great man, so Adolfo, please, learn everything you can, because when you know so many things, it lets you know when to stop, and mi hijo, it’s too late for me to do it.” I stared hard into his old eyes. “Don’t waste this gift.”
And I didn’t. With Papa’s words in my ear, I learned all I could and studied hard to make him proud. Every once in a while, I would hear my heart crying for action, but I always turned away; I knew better than to listen only to my heart.
A democratic Guatemala was kept as presidente Árbenz took office, but Guatemala being an anti-authoritarian country among authoritarian countries like Nicaragua and Honduras made them falsely label our country as communist. Presidente Arévalo said himself that Guatemala was to become a country mixed with capitalism and socialism with benefits toward the people, a “spiritual socialism.” Despite what other countries thought of us, we continued to enjoy the benefits of “spiritual socialism,” such as the decree that gave us our own land. The government bought it from the plantations and companies who owned all of the land before the revolución and redistributed it to us. They were the reason why everyone was living on the streets without homes and land, so when it was announced, everyone was overjoyed, including my family.
With the money Papa saved up, we could start working without having to buy the land ourselves. The work went by quickly and soon enough, we had our farm. It didn’t have everything Papa promised on that day so long ago, but it was a start. Seeing Carlos run outside just to inhale the fresh air made me so happy, considering how our lives were so long ago, but this happiness we felt was short-lived.
It was a hot day, and I was spending it studying to get into college. Mama was nursing my new baby sister in the other room with the radio on. Through the walls, I heard the radio say Guatemala was becoming a communist country because of Árbenz and how a man named Armas was coming here to save us. I ignored the blatant propaganda and kept studying.
When Carlos and Papa returned home from the market, Mama and I came to the door to greet them, but Papa didn’t say a word and brushed past us to his room. Concerned, I looked to Carlos to find he was in shock. Mama tried to coax him into telling us what happened and the only word that came out of his mouth was “bomb.”
“Maria, I’m going after Árbenz; stay here with the children until I come back,” said Papa.
Mama stared at him with uncertainty, but she didn’t say a word and retreated into her room to put little Maria to sleep. I left Carlos’s side and came over to Papa with disbelief. “Papa, don’t tell me you’re doubting the man who got us this land.”
“People can change; it’s not impossible. Besides, who else would have the power to bomb a town of civilians?” He said, tying up one of his boots. “Not to mention the rumors circulating about him.”
“About how he’s a communist? It must be propaganda from Nicaragua; they’ve always had it out for him because he is doing good things! You are all being manipulated!”
“Adolfo, listen to me,” he said getting up, his expression as hard as stone. “Carlos might’ve died there along with me if we were there earlier! Our presidente is the biggest culprit, and I’m going to protect this family. Understand?!” I held my tongue, and Papa sighed, “I’ll probably be home in the morning so look after your mama until then.”
And I did. I also at that moment understood what Papa meant by how he wasn’t great: his heart is the only thing that leads him, and it leads him into trouble. With this realization in mind, I decided to become the great man Papa couldn’t. Eventually, presidente Árbenz resigned and “our savior” Carlos Enrique Diez was elected in his place. He wasn’t the democratic leader Árbenz was; he was a dictator like those before the revolución, and he killed all in his way.
The heavy sound of knocking at the door startled Papa and me. They called for someone to open the door; no one wanted to answer, but we knew we had to or they’d kill us. Thankfully, Mama, Carlos, and Maria were gone. Mama left a couple days before after a fight with Papa, yelling at him that she couldn’t live this life anymore and left with my siblings. While they fought, Papa didn’t say a word. It was as though he wanted her to leave, like he knew his past was going to catch up to him. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.
The knocking got louder, and Papa, with his graying hair, came over to me and told me that he loved me, that he loved my mama and my siblings, that he loved everything up until now.
Then, he went over and opened the door.
Here in Guatemala, there is a saying: he who doesn't risk a penny doesn't make a peso. This is what Papa yelled to me as he was dragged into town and executed. When the civil war descended upon our beautiful country of Guatemala afterward, my peso changed from going to college to avenging Papa. Carlos ran away from Mama and joined me to help in my endeavor, but as soon as he joined, he wasn’t my brother anymore, just a soldier. We haven’t seen each other since then; I don’t even know if he’s still alive, if Mama and Maria are still alive.
So, as I sit here, writing about my life after ten years of fighting, I keep asking myself where I went wrong. My beautiful country is filled with bomb craters, collapsed buildings, and tens of thousands of fresh dead six feet under me wherever I walk. The people I’m trying to protect are being raped, massacred, orphaned, and widowed sometimes by my own men, sometimes by the government soldiers. Sometimes I find myself wanting to go mad with them, at least then it wouldn’t hurt so much. I just… want it to end.
Because of the buying and redistribution of land as part of decree 900, the American owners claimed Guatemala to be a communist country for fear of losing all their land to the citizens. In response, a coup called Operation: PBSuccess was put into action by Eisenhower with the help of Nicaragua and Honduras, two countries who were against Guatemala’s anti-authoritarian beliefs and called them communist to get the U.S. to step in. Using lies, psychological warfare, and bomb raids, the CIA with the help of the Nicaraguan military caused uncertainty among the people over their president. Eventually, Arbenz resigned to cheers and was replaced through a rigged election by a U.S. selected man named Carlos Enrique Diez. Diez’s presidency was marked by genocide and repressive military rule. It would spark a civil war that would last for about 34 years. 93% of the atrocities and massacres of the citizens of Guatemala were by the U.S. backed military.
Adolfo was fighting the wrong enemy, and he will not realize this for a long time when he finally brings his father’s “killers” down.
