Clandestine in Chile by Gabriel García Márquez

Author:Gabriel García Márquez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-02-20T02:11:02+00:00

GABRIEL GARCiA MARQUEZ

form covered by a sheet. He was buried in the mausoleum

of Marmaduque Grove's family in the Santa Ines cemeterv

with no other offering than the bouquet of flowers placed

there by his widow as she said: "Salvador Allende, president

of Chile, is buried here." The dictatorship hoped they could

move Allende out of the reach of popular veneration, but it

was not possible. Although the government went so far as to

spread a rumor that the body had been moved, pilgrims continue to arrive daily and gifts of flowers are left anonymously on the gravestone.

The cult of Pablo Neruda also thrives among the new generation, and the poet's former seaside home at Isla Negra has become its shrine. Despite its name, this legendary place is

neither an island nor black, but a fishing village with yellow

dirt paths running between giant pine trees and a wild green

sea, located twenty-five miles south of Valparaiso near the

San Antonio highway. Pablo Neruda's house there is a mecca

for lovers from the world over. Frankie and I had gone ahead

to set up a shooting schedule while the Italian crew was finishing up the last shots in Valparaiso. The carabinero on duty showed us where the bridge was, and the inn, and the

other places celebrated by the poet in his verses, but he

warned me that it was forbidden to visit the house.

While waiting at the inn for the others to arrive, we could

appreciate how the poet had been the soul of Isla Negra.

\Vhenever he was there, the place would be overrun by

young people carrying his Twenty Love Poems as their only

guidebook. All they wanted was to see him for a moment or,

perhaps, to ask for an autograph . For most, it was enough

to take away a memory of the place. In those days the inn

was a gay and noisy place where Neruda would appear from

time to time in one of his gaudy ponchos and Andean cap,

bulky and as slow-moving as the pope. He would come there

to use the telephone-he had had his own rcmowd to a\'oid

G l

CLANDESTINE IN CHILE

interruptions-or to discuss with Dona Elena, the proprietress, how to prepare a dish for friends the same night at his house. Neruda was an expert in culinary delights and could

cook like a professional himself. He had refined the art of

good eating to such a degree that he fussed over even the

smallest details of the table setting and was quite capable of

changing cloth, dishes, or silverware until they were in harmony with the food being served. Twelve years later, all of that had been swept away by a desolate wind . Dona Elena,

overwhelmed by her painful memories, had left for Santiago

and the inn was near collapse. One scrap of poetry remained:

since the last earthquake, tremors continued to be felt at Isla

Negra every ten or fifteen minutes of every day and through

the night .

The Earth Trembles at Isla Negra

We found Neruda's house in the shade of its sentinel pines,

surrounded by the fence several feet high with which the

poet had protected his private life. Flowers had sprung from

the wood .

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