A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A PERUVIAN COFFEE GROWER

The day had dawned clear and warm. The leaves dripped liquid life after the storm the night before. Surely the coffee trees were happy: red and yellow cherries seemed about to burst and this became all the more evident by the sun's rays shining on them. The morning breeze bent the trees and wrapped them in a dance that was amazing in its rythm -a synchronized ballet moving toward the mountains.
Lorenzo had been working for at least three hours, and seeing his three and a half hectares made him feel proud. It had meant a lot of work cleaning and sowing his chacra almost alone. Of course, his two brothers-in-law as well as some other relatives had come up to give him a hand, but God knows there were days when it had been just Georgina and him from dawn to nightfall. Yes, amazingly, Georgina had shown guts. This was the most surprising because her old man had always taken airs and looked others down. It was true that he had the money to hire people from the highlands and, because of this, she had led a more or less comfortable life.
Suddenly he heard a long uuuuuuh which broke the spell. Lorenzo was about to answer when Georgina appeared from his left side.
"What 're you doing?" -she asked smiling characteristically. It was in such circumstances when her voice acquired the musical quality of a river running wild and boundless in winter, and it was then that he was filled with the certainty, which he had only suspected at first, that that woman was meant for him.
"Are you fooling 'round, I think?" -and in saying this, she let loose a contagious laugh. All of a sudden her forty two years seemed to disappear. He felt like embracing and taking her down to the bushes, but he quickly banished these thoughts.
"Where's Mario? I told 'im to come to help once he was done with the communal work!" Lorenzo was angry on account of the fact that yesterday they had only picked up about fifty tin-cans of cherries. Today he had sworn they were going to overcome that puny quantity.
"Jacinto made him stay. Mario's failed his duty. They say he owns his night-patrol. It's kinda strange; he better straighten up or else don't blame 'bout the consequences!"
But Lorenzo was deep in thought pondering the implications of what he had just heard. Mario, his eldest son, might have difficulties with the morocos1 if it was true that he had not fulfilled his duty. But since when was this taking place? And, above all, whre did he go every time he went down saying he was with the ronderos2. A snake-like fear crawled up his spine. This could only mean bad news.
His big and dark eyes looked down the ground as if he could find the answers there. His dark hair, his skin burnt by the sun and wind, and his callous hands got a little older. His wife perceived his great anxiety.
She felt she had to say something to take her husband away from his perturbed state.
"Now that he comes, he'll hear me, or I may even give 'im a good spanking!"
"Spank a grownup man with wife and guagua?"3. Lorenzo wanted to smile but only grimaced as if in pain. Fortunately Georgina did not understand the exact source of his fears. She thought it was perhaps another irresponsible deed on theirs son's part.
"Why not? Didn't I tit 'im? If he misbehaves, I take 'ut the damn rod and..."
"Oh, c'mon! Surely he had to do something important. The other day, he say that Don Jaime asked him to do some loading. The boy need some money. You know" -he doubted before continuing- "Paulina...her tit..."
"That's bullshit! Don't remind me that! So much money and nothing so far!"
"What do you want? What if you was sick? Woulld you like my folks to ask me to leave you?" He made a tremendous effort to overcome his dark forebodings. Worst of all was his feelings of powerlessness. With coffee, it was so different. Even in the worst years, it was just a matter of working harder and thriftying up. On top of everything, he had had a bad dream. He looked down again trying to concentrate. He remembered that in it, Mario was standing on the edge of a dark and deep cliff. For some reason, the whole family was behind him as if waiting. Then turning around, Mario had taken his baby son and dropped him down the precipice. He was about to do the same with his own mother when Lorenzo intervened. He hit him hard and Mario fell to the ground, but he quickly recovered. Now Lorenzo knew he was fighting not only for his life. He had to push his son down the cliff or Mario would finish his family off. His madness gave Mario and incredible strength for Lorenzo could barely contain him. Somehow Mario got hold of a stone and hit his father hard on the cheekbone. The sound it made had woken him up. He was sweating. He looked up and could see, through the capiro leaves, the beautiful starry night. His wife was sleeping. Not being able to talk about his dream had made him feel apprehensive.
"We oughta help the boy. That's why I'm his old man and you're his old woman, right? Georgina felt that this kind of argument was so unfair in that it did not give her grounds to say much. It was always like this with Lorenzo.
Then changing the topic he softly ordered her, "Why don't you take one of the chicks and make that delicious stew that you and only you know how to make?"
She smiled. It was not very common for him to praise her. Before she broke up laughing, because this made Lorenzo blush, she took him from the arm, as if he were a child, and together started down the steep hill that led to their hut.
As they approached their home, Lorenzo saw the farmers working up the opposite hill. Today, he was going to make sure they make a better job. Considering that five out of his six workers were relatives of his, he realized he did not have many choices. Maybe Georgina's suggestion to use the rod was not so crazy after all, especially with his children. Before entering to take a break, he could not help looking almost ecstatically at all the coffee spred on the concrete tendal. There were about 350 kilos. He bent forward and picked a handful of pergamino3. Looking at it, he thought about how tortuous life was. Back in '97, life had been a permanent binge. He had even planned on buying Mario a chacra up in the mountains to get upper altitude coffee. He had also planned to buy Esteban, his fifth child, the guitar that he wanted so badly. Of course, Paulina's problem should have been looked into first. Her pain in one of the breasts had turned into a shapeless lump. Yes, it had been Mario's fault. Why had he waited so long? Pus coming out of her armpit had finally forced him to take her to Satipo. There the doctor had yelled at Mario because of his carelessness. Once back in Pangoa, Lorenzo had also given his son a piece of his mind. Why couldn't he be more responsible? Lorenzo rubbed the pergamino hard between his hands pressing it with his legs. Then he blew the husk and observed. Green coffee. How dry? Who the hell knew? To him, it looked dry, really dry. Surely now that the motherfucker buyers took it, they would cheat him on the price, on the weight or on the humidity or maybe even on everything. These assholes could even cheat their own mothers. Lorenzo threw the coffee down and got ready to continue.
1Morocos is a popular term used in some parts of Peru to refer to the military. Similar terms are milicos and cachacos.
2 Ronderosis a term used to refer to a group of civilians whose job is to defend their community from terrorist groups. The ronderos are trained by the military and have very old weapons.
3 Guagua is a kechwa word -the lingua franca of the Incas- which means child or baby.
4 Pergamino is a term used to refer to the cherry that has been peeled.