From the Old Folks Home DSQ, April 24, 2003:
What was your favorite recess game in elementary school?
I think I have already spoken at length about our childhood game of Mátaratónes, so I won't bore you further with such things. As you know, we had very little time for hyjinks as children. The days were short and the work was long. We had to find games that fit into these small opportunities, and Papá was ever vigilant to be sure we didn't take things too far.
Some of the other children who lived near us would play games of tag with rocks and broken tools. To my siblings and I, these games looked very fun, but from the very start, Papá forbade it. He did not wish to lose the family's labor to concussions. In hindsight of course, I cannot blame him. I remember little Francisco spent the rest of his days in a wheelchair made of boards, torn cloth, and spare hubcaps. His family used him to scare away rabbits and crows, since he wasn't good for much else.
But some distance from our home, on the other side of the asbestos hills, there was a junkyard for tires. Oh there were many many tires there, in piles too many to count. When it seemed that we would have enough time to make the journey, we would run to this place, and play Llantas Del Fuego. This was incredibly fun. It was frightening too. I think Papá would have forbidden it also, had he known.
Paco, being the eldest, always took it upon himself to start the fire. We did not do this on the largest piles, since it would be too much for us to bear, and we did not want to ruin the fun for future days. Once the tires were burning very hot and the smoke rose like the devil into the sky, we would take our turns running across, one by one. One had to be very careful not to get caught in the holes of the tires, or Paco would complain to no end about having to pull us out. It was an amazing sight to behold of course. I recall looking on with wonder as Raúl emerged slowly and deliberately from the great pillar of smoke and flame with his walking stick at his side, looking like the very specter of death. He would then stalk Llolla, the smoke rising from his head, and she would scream for as long as we chose not to intervene.
This was very dangerous, as I'm sure you can imagine, but as children, our fear was only for our parents. The smoke from the tires was very tenacious and did not come off the skin without much persistence. So we would take detours through the fields to find one which was irrigated and we would take turns dragging each other through the furrows until we were covered head to foot with mud and leaves. This was nothing unusual to our parents and never once did they discover our game. Although some days, the winds would change and the smoke would blow over our fields and Mamá and Papá would complain loudly, to which us children would share a small bit of hidden laughter.
I could go on, but time is still short, and much work continues to await me.
Íz