Hitler in Central America by Jacobo Schifter - HTML preview

Epilogue

―It cannot be! It cannot be!‖ I screamed with desperation.

―You had another nightmare,‖ answered Hector, trying to calm me down. I woke up covered in sweat and with the awareness of having emerged from the worst dream possible.

I had fallen asleep after having spent all night working on my computer. I had written a novel based on events that I had not witnessed and places I had never visited. I asked my partner to read what I had written. When he finished it, dawn had already set in.

―Your novel has nothing to do with reality,‖ he said to me. ―Your mother never had an affair with a German man; your grandparent's home was conservative; Don David never frequented gay bars, nor did he ever get involved in politics, nor did he save the Jewish community from any impending disaster,‖ continued an increasingly moody Hector. ―The story about the Nazis is pure fiction and there never was an attempt against President Calderon, nor was a bomb ever found in the synagogue,‖ he added. Hector was concerned I had wasted my time writing such trash, when I had been committed to write an essay on Costa Rican democracy, which was long overdue. ―Your secretary will pick up your essay tomorrow afternoon,‖ he insisted, ―so start working on it.‖ My lover reminded me that they had already paid for this essay, whereas my novel would not produce a single penny.

―Am I happy to hear that!‖ I responded, as I dried the last sweat drops from my forehead.

―Last night I thought it was real,‖ I added. ―Perhaps,‖ I said directly into his ear in a whisper, ―some dybbuk possessed me and wrote the novel.‖ I was part of the generation born after the Holocaust and perhaps this was just a paranoid attack, I said to myself. After all, my country was fully democratic and these events probably never occurred. There is no anti-Semitism in Costa Rica - I thought - and we even have Jewish politicians who are running for the Presidency. How was this story possible?

In spite of the fact that we agreed some Jewish little devils had performed a trick on me, Hector wanted to know what had happened to Carlos, how things developed after his return to Costa Rica and how the story ended.

―If you say it never took place, why do you want to know?‖ I responded.

―You made me read this novel all night long and I am curious to find out the ending,‖ he insisted.

The truth is, I myself did not know. I had fallen asleep or I had awakened around 1942 and no ― ovot 98 could help me find out what took place after that,‖ I explained to him.

I decided to go wash my hands seven times, since this ritual cleanses the soul from the worst shedim 99 and forget this nightmare. ―Perhaps they continued to see each other,‖ I 98 Spirits who advise mortals

99 Evil spirits

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suggested to my friend, hoping to satisfy his curiosity. But Hector could not understand Elena's behavior and did not approve of her decisions.

―Why didn't she fight for her love?‖ he inquired, suggesting that Christians could be immune to Polish devils. He wanted a good reason and an easy answer that would allow him to go back to sleep, but I was aware that sometimes we make choices without giving them enough thought.

―If my mother was really a good fortune teller, then she could have predicted that because of the Shoa, Jews and Germans could not live together. ―This novel,‖ I added, ―is really postmodern; it does not end, nor do its stories come to any resolution. Why don't you continue it?‖

―Because it is your nightmare, not mine and I did not write it,‖ he responded, as he declined my offer.

―Well, I also did not imagine the whole thing, since more heads had gotten into this adventure,‖ I had to admit.

We did agree on something: This novel should not be published. It was politically incorrect.

None of the communities would approve of the story and most people would be offended by it. I promised Hector that I would delete it later, since I wanted to go back to sleep and recover from such a long night.

Some noise made me aware that uninvited friends had come to visit us. I got up from my warm bed and went to the kitchen to find out who was having such spirited conversations.

To my surprise, these people were not alive. I ran immediately to hug my mother, whom I had missed so much.

―Mother, what are you doing here?‖ I asked her.

―I came with the rest of the mishpoche and the characters of your book to spend some time in this country that has such a wonderful weather,‖ she said with a beautiful smile.

The other visitors came one by one to embrace me and to kiss me or shake hands. I said hello to Don Carlos, Don Jose, Gloria, Susanita, The Duster, Lady, Miguel and many more.

Don David told me that some could not come to visit. Samuel was in Israel and had a problem with his leg that made the trip impossible; Fanny was waiting to be reincarnated pretty soon and had no time for socializing; others were not allowed to get away from Hell.

The Costa Rican politicians, despite being dead stiff, also did not attend, since they still practiced their profession and wanted to remain neutral.

―We are always running for office,‖ former President Calderon indicated to me, ―and we don't want to get involved in ethnic problems.

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―Don't you ever retire?‖ I asked him, shocked to see how much someone could get addicted to politics.

―Never," he responded. "As a matter of fact, we are now working on a petition to outlaw Elias' chariot from the heavens, given the contamination it produces,‖ Don Ricardo Jimenez informed me.

―At least you have enough Costa Rican politicos to help you out,‖ I replied.

―Are you kidding me?‖ he responded with a laugh. ―These men are interested only in seeing how they can rip off the Heavens' Treasure. Right now, since there is a process of globalization and Hell and Heaven are becoming integrated, these Mafioso are trying to make a fortune selling air conditioners to the Devil.‖

―What is Don Otilio doing now?‖ I had to ask him.

―He runs Heaven's bar,‖ replied Don Ricardo.

―Do people drink in heaven?‖ I inquired with surprise.

―Only when Mother Theresa is out shopping,‖ was his response.

The characters and I decided to discuss how they liked or did not like the novel and what had been their experience in it. Anita was the first one to talk. She admitted having liked the experience but not the salary.

―How come we have no contract and no royalties from its sales?‖ she inquired.

―But Grandma, you are dead. What do you need money for?‖ I replied.

―A woman always has her expenses,‖ she retorted. ―Life here is getting very expensive and we get only the basics for our spiritual needs. I like small luxuries and articles imported from Hell. I have been so bored that I opened a small store to repair Angel's wings and with the little I make I buy some nice stuff. A merchant never stops her work,‖ she said and winked at me.

Anita acknowledged being upset with the plot, because she thought her relationship with Don Jose ―was not fully developed‖ and ―had been cut short.‖

―The reason I could not write more about your love affair, is that Don Carlos did not provide me with enough information and I had to rely on Dona Golchas' diary,‖ I explained to her. Anita was not satisfied.

―You should have inquired more and not depend on that awful woman to get the facts. How can you rely on a diary written by someone who feels envy for your grandmother? The fact is that you do not care about me,‖ she continued, trying to make me feel guilty.

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―Moreover,‖ she added, ―how dare you write that I was bitter! I would like to see your face had you lived in Poland,‖ she warned me.

Don David was furious with me. As a good Sikora he believed no one should write anything bad about the mishpoche. Besides, he felt his reputation in Heaven had been damaged.

―Since it came out, many of the Yids in Heaven no longer speak to me. They say that had they known I taught the Talmud to a Nazi, they would never have let me in.‖

―But grandfather,‖ I inquired ―do you still fight in heaven?‖

―Until your grandmother came in, things were peaceful, but not anymore,‖ he said with sadness. ―She changed the rules and many people are now asking for asylum in Hell, where things are supposed to be better,‖ he said.

My grandfather explained to me that after his wife's arrival, many souls started to question some celestial rules. She even dared to establish an opposition political party, advocating reforms in the visitation hours, sexual abstinence and men-only praying groups. Don David was even more upset, because the new party took away many of his privileges, accusing him of not having being frank about the relationship with the German.

―They reported I had revealed information to Don Carlos and they took away my entrance pass to Emilia's bordello in Purgatory. Things got even worse when your grandmother started to mistake some angels for chickens and opened a restaurant specializing in wings.‖

Don David complained to me that since Anita's arrival, Heaven was no longer what it used to be and that he was planning to cross the border to Hell, where people lived better.

I thought Max would be more critical, but to my surprise he liked the book. ―You spiced up the plot with some good sex,‖ he said. Nevertheless, he did not think his sexual life was as promiscuous as I had written and he believed that those years were wild to many people.

The Nazi did find objectionable that I had indicated he was indifferent to Ernest's death.

―I did love the man, but I could do nothing to protect him from evil.‖ More questionable, he thought, was my story about the pets. ―There were no gas chambers in Guanacaste and the killing of the animals is a figment of your imagination,‖ he said.

―Where are they then?‖ I insisted.

―Did your own mother not tell you that the pets were hiding in many Polish sofas?‖ he responded with a tinge of sarcasm. The man, finally, thought that a Jew shouldn't write a story about him: ―You will never be objective.‖

Yadira was more disgusted. She emphatically denied ever having a relationship with Max.

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―I fought for my principles and you try to stain my reputation by making me look like a cheap whore,‖ she screamed. ―I was never a Nazi militant. I only wanted to protect Costa Rica's economy from the Jews. You may say what you want because I am still alive,‖ she continued, ―but wait until I die and you will see how I will come to haunt you for the rest of your life.‖

If Yadira was enraged, more so was Pepe. ―I was always discreet and now you come and tell every single soul that I was a homosexual, something that my family considers an abomination. I have asked my descendants to sue you for libel and get as much money as they can from you. You will not see a single penny from this trashy novel!‖ he swore to me and showed me his fist. I tried to win him over by telling him that, in my story, I cleared his reputation for being a squealer. It was of no avail, since he thought being gay was worse that being thought a spy. Miguel, who was also unhappy because I included his affair with The Duster, seconded him.

―In those times, we men could have sex with queers without being regarded as homosexuals,‖ he indicated to me.

As both men looked at me with fury, Paquita also questioned my integrity for portraying her as a ―dumb broad‖ who did nothing about Pepe's sexual secrets.

―I always suspected what was going on, but Pepe did perform well in bed and I was more concerned with my reputation than with his homosexuality.‖

I did not please Susanita either. The man was disappointed with his description, since I made him look like a friend of the Nazis and a sex fiend, something he regretted with all his heart. He also did not like that I wrote he had warned Max about Costa Rica's kristallnacht.

The Duster came to his defense. The witch admitted that Susanita had a big mouth and probably was unable to keep it shut. Nevertheless, ―the queen was not bad and only tried to save her lover.‖ The Duster was also unhappy with my novel, since it made her look like a murderer and I had forgotten to add ―how distraught I was when I found out I had killed Giorgio with rat poison.‖

―What happens is that you are homophobic yourself and we queens look terrible in your story,‖ the sorcerer complained. Ramon, on the other hand, fully denied his participation in the Italian's murder. ―You are totally unfair in how you described my behavior and that of the United Fruit Company. We could not provide the tútiles with wine and macaroni, as they demanded. Mr. Keith was always willing to help and the banana workers were Communist troublemakers.‖

Sick of so much whining, I decided to look for my mother and Don Carlos. ―For a Momme,‖ she said with love for me,‖ it is impossible to be objective. I know some members of the Conservative Jewish Community are saying that you ruined my reputation and made me look bad. Notwithstanding these views, I like what you did with my story. I was a feminist and I detested the way I was treated as a woman. They never valued what 278

we did as women and we had to struggle for too long to get our rights. I do not mind at all to let the world know that I was not what people think I was.‖

Don Carlos also supported what I had written. He took me to the garden and told me not to worry about the critics. ―They will never be happy; who cares what they say?‖ he consoled me. I was more interested in finding out what had happened between him and my mother.

―Don Carlos, please do tell me how did the story end; my friend Hector will not let me sleep until I find out.‖

―I loved your mother until the day she died. I was emotionally destroyed when I came back to Costa Rica and found her married to your father. I could not understand why she blamed me for something I had no control over. She repented afterwards, but it was too late; we never ceased to see each other. We still do.‖

I saw my mother walk toward us in the garden and I could not help asking her what had happened to her relationship in the other world. As she was going to respond, I heard a noise and started to wake up from my sleep and realized I had dreamed everything. I was relieved that this ordeal was coming to an end, since the kvetching 100 was getting into my nerves.

I had a mission to accomplish, which was to delete this novel from my hard disk. Instead, I would write my essay on Costa Rican democracy and send it through e-mail to my publisher. But machines are machines and my laptop did not seem to operate well. Some sort of problem had made the Outlook Express send thousands and thousands of copies of my novel around the globe. I was getting responses from people who wanted to publish the story as if I had intended them to do so.

I tried to stop the endless delivery of my file, with no success. Many technicians came to fix it and found strange viruses in its operating system. One of the experts told me this was a very weird infection, since the virus not only was unknown to everyone, but also spoke in Yiddish. ―Are you being serious?" I asked, since I had never heard that a computer virus could utter a word.

―It talks, because I have studied it and every time you get e-mail from a publisher with a good offer, it accepts it and writes back ― a dank 101‖. But when the proposal is for little money, it responds ― Kush mich in toches 102!‖ I have never seen anything like it! he added.

"I have tried to undo this action, but every time I intend to write your name, the computer gets very hot and seems ready to explode. You'd better get an exorcist and not a poor computer technician like me,‖ he said as he ran to the door, leaving his bill on the way out.

At first, I did not know what to do. A dybbuk had gotten into my computer and I no longer lived in Poland, where there were experts in exorcism who could help me. After many nights without sleep, an idea occurred to me: I would send e-mail to Anita@heaven.com

100 Complaining, whining.

101 Thank you

102 Kiss my behind

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and write the following: ―OK, Grandmother, 50-50 on the royalties, yours to set up the Emma Goldman Foundation for the Poor.‖ This plan paid off and next day I got my answer: ― Zaier gut 103.‖

103 OK

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