Gabriel Garcia Marquez_ A Life Part 1

Gabriel Garcia Marquez_ a life.

by Gerald Martin.

PROLOGUE.

From Origins Obscure.

18001899ONE HOT, ASPHYXIATING MORNING in the early 1930s, in the tropical coastal region of northern Colombia, a young woman gazed through the window of the United Fruit Company train at the pa.s.sing banana plantations. Row after row after row, s.h.i.+mmering from sun into shade. She had taken the overnight steamer, besieged by mosquitoes, across the great Cienaga swamp from the Caribbean port city of Barranquilla, and now she was travelling down through the Banana Zone to the small inland town of Aracataca where, several years before, she had left her first-born child Gabriel with her ageing parents when he was still a baby. Luisa Santiaga Marquez Iguaran de Garcia had given birth to three more children since that time and this was her first return to Aracataca since her husband, Gabriel Eligio Garcia, took her away to live in Barranquilla, leaving little "Gabito" in the care of his maternal grandparents, Tranquilina Iguaran Cotes de Marquez and Colonel Nicolas Marquez Mejia. Colonel Marquez was a veteran of the bitter Thousand Day War fought at the turn of the century, a lifelong stalwart of the Colombian Liberal Party and, latterly, the local treasurer of the munic.i.p.ality of Aracataca.The Colonel and Dona Tranquilina had angrily disapproved of Luisa Santiaga's courts.h.i.+p with the handsome Garcia. He was not only a poor man, and an outsider, but also illegitimate, a half-breed and perhaps worst of all, a fervent supporter of the detested Conservative Party. He had been the telegraphist of Aracataca for just a few days when his eyes first fell upon Luisa, one of the most marriageable young women in the town. Her parents sent her away to stay with relatives for the best part of a year to get the wild infatuation with the seductive newcomer out of her head, but to no avail. As for Garcia himself, if he was hoping that his marriage to the Colonel's daughter would make his fortune he was disappointed. The bride's parents had refused to attend the wedding he eventually managed to organize in the regional capital of Santa Marta and he had lost his position in Aracataca.What was Luisa thinking as she gazed out of the train window? Perhaps she had forgotten how uncomfortable this journey was going to be. Was she thinking of the house where she had spent her childhood and youth? How everyone would react to her visit? Her parents. Her aunts. The two children she hadn't seen for so long: Gabito, the eldest, and Margarita, his younger sister, also now living with her grandparents. The train whistled as it pa.s.sed the small banana plantation named Macondo which she remembered from her own childhood. A few minutes later Aracataca came into view. And there was her father the Colonel waiting in the shade ... How would he greet her?No one knows what he said. But we do know what happened next.1 Back in the old Colonel's Big House, the women were preparing little Gabito for a day he would never forget: "She's here, your mother has come, Gabito. She's here. Your mother. Can't you hear the train?" The sound of the whistle arrived once more from the nearby station. Back in the old Colonel's Big House, the women were preparing little Gabito for a day he would never forget: "She's here, your mother has come, Gabito. She's here. Your mother. Can't you hear the train?" The sound of the whistle arrived once more from the nearby station.Gabito would say later that he had no memory of his mother. She had left him before he could retain any memories at all. And if she had any meaning now, it was as a sudden absence never truly explained by his grandparents, an anxiety, as if something was wrong. With him, perhaps. Where was grandfather? Grandfather always made everything clear. But his grandfather had gone out.Then Gabito heard them arrive at the other end of the house. One of his aunts came and took his hand. Everything was like a dream. "Your mamma's in there," the aunt said. So he went in and after a moment he saw a woman he didn't know, at the far end of the room, sitting with her back to the shuttered window. She was a beautiful lady, with a straw hat and a long loose dress, with sleeves down to her wrists. She was breathing heavily in the midday heat. And he was filled with a strange confusion, because she was a lady he liked the look of but he realized at once that he didn't love her in the way they had told him you should love your mother. Not like he loved grandpa and grandma. Not even like he loved his aunts.The lady said, "Aren't you going to give your mother a hug?" And then she took him to her and embraced him. She had an aroma he would never forget. He was less than a year old when his mother left him. Now he was almost seven. So only now, because she had come back, did he understand it: his mother had left him. And Gabito would never get over it, not least because he could never quite bring himself to face what he felt about it. And then, quite soon, she left him again.LUISA SANTIAGA, the Colonel's wayward daughter, and mother of little Gabito, had been born on 25 July 1905, in the small town of Barrancas, between the wild territory of the Guajira and the mountainous province of Padilla, to the east of the Sierra Nevada.2 At the time of Luisa's birth her father was a member of a defeated army, the army of the Liberal Party vanquished by the Conservatives in Colombia's great civil war, the War of a Thousand Days (18991902). At the time of Luisa's birth her father was a member of a defeated army, the army of the Liberal Party vanquished by the Conservatives in Colombia's great civil war, the War of a Thousand Days (18991902).Nicolas Ricardo Marquez Mejia, Gabriel Garcia Marquez's grandfather, was born on 7 February 1864 in Riohacha, Guajira, a sunbaked, salty, dusty city on the north Atlantic coast of Colombia and diminutive capital of its wildest region, home to the redoubtable Guajiro Indians and refuge for smugglers and traffickers from colonial times to the present day. Little is known about Marquez's early life except that he received only an elementary education but made the most of it and was sent westward, for some time, to live with his cousin Francisca Cimodosea Mejia in the town of El Carmen de Bolivar, south of the majestic colonial city of Cartagena. There the two cousins were brought up by Nicolas's maternal grandmother Josefa Francisca Vidal. Later, after Nicolas had spent a few years wandering the entire coastal region, Francisca would join his family and live under his roof, a spinster for the rest of her life. Nicolas lived for a time in Camarones, a town by the Guajira sh.o.r.eline some fifteen miles from Riohacha. Legend has it that he was a precocious partic.i.p.ant in one or more of the civil wars that regularly punctuated nineteenth-century life in Colombia. When he returned to Riohacha at the age of seventeen he became a silversmith under the tutelage of his father, Nicolas del Carmen Marquez Hernandez. It was the traditional family occupation. Nicolas had completed his primary education but his artisan family could not afford for him to go further.Nicolas Marquez was productive in other ways: within two years of his return to the Guajira, the reckless teenage traveller had fathered two illegitimate sons-"natural sons," they are called in Colombia-Jose Maria, born in 1882, and Carlos Alberto, born in 1884.3 Their mother was an eccentric Riohacha spinster called Altagracia Valdeblanquez, connected to an influential Conservative family and much older than Nicolas himself. We do not know why Nicolas did not marry her. Both sons were given their mother's surname; both were brought up as staunch Catholics and Conservatives, despite Nicolas's fervent Liberalism, since the custom in Colombia until quite recently was for children to adopt the political allegiance of their parents and the boys had been brought up not by Nicolas but by their mother's family; and both would fight against the Liberals, and thus against their father, in the War of a Thousand Days. Their mother was an eccentric Riohacha spinster called Altagracia Valdeblanquez, connected to an influential Conservative family and much older than Nicolas himself. We do not know why Nicolas did not marry her. Both sons were given their mother's surname; both were brought up as staunch Catholics and Conservatives, despite Nicolas's fervent Liberalism, since the custom in Colombia until quite recently was for children to adopt the political allegiance of their parents and the boys had been brought up not by Nicolas but by their mother's family; and both would fight against the Liberals, and thus against their father, in the War of a Thousand Days.Just a year after the birth of Carlos Alberto, Nicolas, aged twenty-one, married a girl his own age, Tranquilina Iguaran Cotes, who had been born, also in Riohacha, on 5 July 1863. Although Tranquilina was born illegitimate, her surnames were those of two leading Conservative families of the region. Both Nicolas and Tranquilina were, visibly, descendants of white European families and although Nicolas, an incorrigible Casanova, would dally with women of every race and colour, the essential hierarchies from light to dark would be implicitly or explicitly maintained in all their dealings both in the home and in the street. And many things were best left in obscurity.And thus we begin to grope our way back into the dark genealogical labyrinths so familiar to readers of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's best-known novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude. In that book he goes out of his way not to help his readers with reminders about the details of family relations.h.i.+ps: usually only first names are given and these repeat themselves obsessively down through the generations. This becomes part of the work's unspoken challenge to the reader but it undoubtedly reproduces the confusions and anxieties experienced by its author when, as a child, he tried to make sense of the tangled historical networks of family lore.Take Nicolas, who was born legitimate but brought up not by his parents but by his grandmother. Of course there was nothing unusual about this in a frontier society underpinned for security by the concept of the extended family. As we have seen, he had two illegitimate sons before he was twenty. There was nothing unusual about that either. Immediately thereafter he married Tranquilina, like Altagracia, a woman from a higher cla.s.s than himself, although, to balance things up, she was illegitimate. Furthermore, she was also his first cousin; this too was common in Colombia and remains more common in Latin America than most other parts of the world though of course, like illegitimacy, it still carries a stigma. The couple had the same grandmother, Juanita Hernandez, who travelled from Spain to Colombia in the 1820s, and Nicolas descended from her original legitimate marriage whereas Tranquilina came from her second, illegitimate relations.h.i.+p, after she was widowed, with a Creole born in Riohacha called Blas Iguaran who was ten years her junior. And so it transpired that only two generations later two of Juanita's grandchildren, Nicolas Marquez Mejia, and Tranquilina Iguaran Cotes, first cousins, were married in Riohacha. Even though none of their surnames coincided, the fact was that his father and her mother were both children, half-brother and half-sister, of the adventurous Juanita. You could never be sure who you were marrying. And such sinfulness might bring d.a.m.nation or, worse-as the Buendia family members fear throughout One Hundred Years of Solitude-a child with a pig's tail who would put an end to the family line!Naturally the spectre of incest, whose shadow a marriage like that of Nicolas and Tranquilina inevitably raises, adds another, much darker dimension to the concept of illegitimacy. And later Nicolas sp.a.w.ned many, maybe dozens more illegitimate children after he was married. Yet he lived in a profoundly Catholic society, with all the traditional hierarchies and sn.o.bberies, in which the lowest orders were blacks or Indians (to whom, of course, no respectable family would wish to be related in any way despite the fact that, in Colombia, almost all families, including the most respectable ones, have such relations). This chaotic mixture of race and cla.s.s, with so many ways of being illegitimate but only one straight and narrow path to true respectability, is the same world in which, many years later, the infant Garcia Marquez would grow up and in whose perplexities and hypocrisies he would share.Soon after his marriage to Tranquilina Iguaran, Nicolas Marquez left her pregnant-from the patriarchal point of view, always the best way to leave a woman-and spent a few months in Panama, which at that time was still part of Colombia, working with an uncle, Jose Maria Mejia Vidal. There he would engender another illegitimate child, Maria Gregoria Ruiz, with the woman who may have been the true love of his life, the beautiful Isabel Ruiz, before returning to the Guajira shortly after the birth of his first legitimate son, Juan de Dios, in 1886.4 Nicolas and Tranquilina had two more legitimate children: Margarita, born in 1889, and Luisa Santiaga, who was born in Barrancas in July 1905, though she would insist until near the end of her life that she too was born in Riohacha because she felt she had something to hide, as will be seen. She too would marry an illegitimate spouse, and would eventually give birth to a legitimate son called Gabriel Jose Garcia Marquez. Little wonder illegitimacy is an obsession in the fiction of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, however humorous its treatment. Nicolas and Tranquilina had two more legitimate children: Margarita, born in 1889, and Luisa Santiaga, who was born in Barrancas in July 1905, though she would insist until near the end of her life that she too was born in Riohacha because she felt she had something to hide, as will be seen. She too would marry an illegitimate spouse, and would eventually give birth to a legitimate son called Gabriel Jose Garcia Marquez. Little wonder illegitimacy is an obsession in the fiction of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, however humorous its treatment.Nicolas's illegitimate children did not die dreadful deaths in the civil war, as the Colonel's favourite grandson would later fantasize in his novel (in which there are seventeen of them).5 For example, Sara Noriega was the "natural" daughter of Nicolas and Pacha Noriega, and she too became known as la Pacha Noriega, married Gregorio Bonilla and went to live in Fundacion, the next stop down the line from Aracataca. In 1993 her granddaughter, Elida Noriega, whom I met in Barrancas, was the only person in town who still had one of the little gold fish which Nicolas Marquez had fas.h.i.+oned. Ana Rios, the daughter of a.r.s.enia Carrillo, who was married in 1917 to Nicolas's nephew and close a.s.sociate Eugenio Rios (himself related to Francisca Cimodosea Mejia, who also lived with Nicolas), said Sara looked very like Luisa, "skin like a petal and terribly sweet"; For example, Sara Noriega was the "natural" daughter of Nicolas and Pacha Noriega, and she too became known as la Pacha Noriega, married Gregorio Bonilla and went to live in Fundacion, the next stop down the line from Aracataca. In 1993 her granddaughter, Elida Noriega, whom I met in Barrancas, was the only person in town who still had one of the little gold fish which Nicolas Marquez had fas.h.i.+oned. Ana Rios, the daughter of a.r.s.enia Carrillo, who was married in 1917 to Nicolas's nephew and close a.s.sociate Eugenio Rios (himself related to Francisca Cimodosea Mejia, who also lived with Nicolas), said Sara looked very like Luisa, "skin like a petal and terribly sweet";6 she died around 1988. Esteban Carrillo and Elvira Carrillo were illegitimate twins born to Sara Manuela Carrillo; Elvira, Gabito's beloved "Aunt Pa," after living with Nicolas in Aracataca, eventually went to Cartagena near the end of her life, where her much younger half-sister, the legitimate Luisa Santiaga, would "take her in and help her to die," according to Ana Rios. Nicolas Gomez was the son of Amelia Gomez and, according to another informant, Urbano Solano, he went to live in Fundacion, like Sara Noriega. she died around 1988. Esteban Carrillo and Elvira Carrillo were illegitimate twins born to Sara Manuela Carrillo; Elvira, Gabito's beloved "Aunt Pa," after living with Nicolas in Aracataca, eventually went to Cartagena near the end of her life, where her much younger half-sister, the legitimate Luisa Santiaga, would "take her in and help her to die," according to Ana Rios. Nicolas Gomez was the son of Amelia Gomez and, according to another informant, Urbano Solano, he went to live in Fundacion, like Sara Noriega.Nicolas's eldest son, the illegitimate Jose Maria Valdeblanquez, turned out to be the most successful of all his children, a war hero, politician and historian. He married Manuela Moreu as a very young man and had a son and five daughters. The son of one of them, Margot, is Jose Luis Diaz-Granados, another writer.7Nicolas Marquez moved from the arid coastal capital Riohacha to Barrancas, long before he became a colonel, because his ambition was to become a landowner and land was both cheaper and more fertile in the hills around Barrancas. (Garcia Marquez, not always reliable in these matters, says that Nicolas's father left him some land there.) Soon he bought a farm from a friend at a place known as El Potrero on the slopes of the Sierra. The farm was called El Guasimo, named after a local fruit tree, and Marquez set to cultivating sugar cane from which he made a rough rum called chirrinche chirrinche on a home-made still; he is thought to have traded the liquor illicitly, like most of his fellow landowners. Later he purchased another farm closer to the town, beside the River Rancheria. He called it El Istmo (The Isthmus), because whichever way you approached it you had to cross water. There he grew tobacco, maize, sugar cane, beans, yucca, coffee and bananas. The farm can still be visited today, half abandoned, its buildings decayed and in some cases disappeared, an old mango tree still standing like a dilapidated family standard, and the whole tropical landscape awash with melancholy and nostalgia. Perhaps this recollected image is just the visitor's imagination, because he knows that Colonel Marquez left Barrancas under a cloud which still seems to hang over the entire community. But long before even that happened, the Colonel's sedentary existence would be overshadowed by war. on a home-made still; he is thought to have traded the liquor illicitly, like most of his fellow landowners. Later he purchased another farm closer to the town, beside the River Rancheria. He called it El Istmo (The Isthmus), because whichever way you approached it you had to cross water. There he grew tobacco, maize, sugar cane, beans, yucca, coffee and bananas. The farm can still be visited today, half abandoned, its buildings decayed and in some cases disappeared, an old mango tree still standing like a dilapidated family standard, and the whole tropical landscape awash with melancholy and nostalgia. Perhaps this recollected image is just the visitor's imagination, because he knows that Colonel Marquez left Barrancas under a cloud which still seems to hang over the entire community. But long before even that happened, the Colonel's sedentary existence would be overshadowed by war.EVEN LESS IS KNOWN about the early life of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's father than that of his grandfather. Gabriel Eligio Garcia was born in Since, Bolivar, on 1 December 1901, far beyond the great swamp, far even beyond the Magdalena River, during the great civil war in which Nicolas Marquez was actively distinguis.h.i.+ng himself. Garcia's great-grandfather was apparently called Pedro Garcia Gordon and was said to have been born in Madrid early in the nineteenth century. We do not know how or why Garcia Gordon ended up in New Granada, or who he married, but in 1834 he had a son called Aminadab Garcia in Caimito, Bolivar (now Sucre department). According to Ligia Garcia Marquez, Aminadab "married" three different women and had three children by them. Then, "widowed," he met Maria de los Angeles Paternina Bustamante, who was born in 1855 in Sincelejo, twenty-one years his junior, and they had three more children, Eliecer, Jaime and Argemira. Although the couple were not married, Aminadab recognized the children as his own and gave them his name. The baby girl, Argemira Garcia Paternina, was born in September 1887, in Caimito, her father's birthplace. She was to be the mother of Gabriel Eligio Garcia at the age of fourteen and thus the paternal grandmother of our writer, Gabriel Garcia Marquez.8Argemira spent most of her life in the cattle town of Since. She was what in Hispanic culture used to be called a "woman of the people." Tall, statuesque and fair-skinned, she never married but had relations.h.i.+ps with numerous men and gave birth to seven illegitimate children by three of them, particularly a man called Bejarano.9 (Her children all carried her name, Garcia.) But her first lover was Gabriel Martinez Garrido, who by then was a teacher, though he was heir to a line of conservative landowners; eccentric to the point of delirium, he had frittered away almost all of his inheritance. (Her children all carried her name, Garcia.) But her first lover was Gabriel Martinez Garrido, who by then was a teacher, though he was heir to a line of conservative landowners; eccentric to the point of delirium, he had frittered away almost all of his inheritance.10 He seduced Argemira when she was just thirteen and he was twenty-seven. Unfortunately Gabriel Martinez Garrido was already married to Rosa Meza, born in Since like her husband: they had five legitimate children, none of whom was called Gabriel. He seduced Argemira when she was just thirteen and he was twenty-seven. Unfortunately Gabriel Martinez Garrido was already married to Rosa Meza, born in Since like her husband: they had five legitimate children, none of whom was called Gabriel.Thus Gabriel Garcia Marquez's future father was known throughout his life as Gabriel Eligio Garcia, not Gabriel Eligio Martinez Garcia.11 Anyone who cared at all about these things would have worked out almost at once that he was illegitimate. In the late 1920s, however, Gabriel Eligio would make up for these disadvantages. Just as Nicolas Marquez had acquired an important military t.i.tle during the war, becoming a "colonel," so Gabriel Eligio, a self-taught homeopath, started to add the t.i.tle "doctor" to his name. Colonel Marquez and Doctor Garcia. Anyone who cared at all about these things would have worked out almost at once that he was illegitimate. In the late 1920s, however, Gabriel Eligio would make up for these disadvantages. Just as Nicolas Marquez had acquired an important military t.i.tle during the war, becoming a "colonel," so Gabriel Eligio, a self-taught homeopath, started to add the t.i.tle "doctor" to his name. Colonel Marquez and Doctor Garcia.

PART I.

Home: Colombia.

18991955

1.

Of Colonels and Lost Causes 18991927.

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS after Europeans stumbled across it, Latin America often seems a disappointment to its inhabitants. It is as if its destiny had been fixed by Columbus, "the great captain," who discovered the new continent by mistake, misnamed it-"the Indies"-and then died embittered and disillusioned in the early sixteenth century; or by the "great liberator" Simon Bolivar, who put an end to Spanish colonial rule in the early nineteenth century but died dismayed at the newly emanc.i.p.ated region's disunity and at the bitter thought that "he who makes a revolution ploughs the sea." More recently the fate of Ernesto "Che" Guevara, the twentieth century's most romantic revolutionary icon, who died a martyr's death in Bolivia in 1967, only confirmed the idea that Latin America, still the unknown continent, still the land of the future, is home to grandiose dreams and calamitous failures. after Europeans stumbled across it, Latin America often seems a disappointment to its inhabitants. It is as if its destiny had been fixed by Columbus, "the great captain," who discovered the new continent by mistake, misnamed it-"the Indies"-and then died embittered and disillusioned in the early sixteenth century; or by the "great liberator" Simon Bolivar, who put an end to Spanish colonial rule in the early nineteenth century but died dismayed at the newly emanc.i.p.ated region's disunity and at the bitter thought that "he who makes a revolution ploughs the sea." More recently the fate of Ernesto "Che" Guevara, the twentieth century's most romantic revolutionary icon, who died a martyr's death in Bolivia in 1967, only confirmed the idea that Latin America, still the unknown continent, still the land of the future, is home to grandiose dreams and calamitous failures.1 Long before the name of Guevara circled the planet, in a small Colombian town which history only briefly illuminated during the years when the Boston-based United Fruit Company chose to plant bananas there in the early twentieth century, a small boy would listen while his grandfather told tales of a war that lasted a thousand days, at the end of which he too had experienced the bitter solitude of the vanquished, tales of glorious deeds in days gone by, of ghostly heroes and villains, stories which taught the child that justice is not naturally built in to the fabric of life, that right does not always triumph in the kingdom of this world, and that ideals which fill the hearts and minds of many men and women may be defeated and even disappear from the face of the earth. Unless they endure in the memory of those who survive and live to tell the tale.

AT THE END of the nineteenth century, seventy years after achieving independence from Spain, the republic of Colombia had been a country of less than five million controlled by an elite of perhaps three thousand owners of large haciendas, most of whom were politicians and businessmen, and many also lawyers, writers or grammarians-which is why the capital, Bogota, became known as the "Athens of South America." The War of a Thousand Days was the last and most devastating of more than twenty national and local civil wars which had ravaged Colombia during the nineteenth century, fought between Liberals and Conservatives, centralists and federalists, bourgeoisie and landowners, the capital and the regions. In most other countries the nineteenth century gradually saw the Liberals or their equivalents winning the historical battle, whereas in Colombia the Conservatives were dominant until 1930 and, after a Liberal interlude from 1930 to 1946, took charge again until the mid-1950s and remain a powerful force to the present day. Certainly Colombia is the only country where, at the end of the twentieth century, the general elections were still being fought out between a traditional Liberal Party and a traditional Conservative Party, with no other parties gaining a lasting foothold. of the nineteenth century, seventy years after achieving independence from Spain, the republic of Colombia had been a country of less than five million controlled by an elite of perhaps three thousand owners of large haciendas, most of whom were politicians and businessmen, and many also lawyers, writers or grammarians-which is why the capital, Bogota, became known as the "Athens of South America." The War of a Thousand Days was the last and most devastating of more than twenty national and local civil wars which had ravaged Colombia during the nineteenth century, fought between Liberals and Conservatives, centralists and federalists, bourgeoisie and landowners, the capital and the regions. In most other countries the nineteenth century gradually saw the Liberals or their equivalents winning the historical battle, whereas in Colombia the Conservatives were dominant until 1930 and, after a Liberal interlude from 1930 to 1946, took charge again until the mid-1950s and remain a powerful force to the present day. Certainly Colombia is the only country where, at the end of the twentieth century, the general elections were still being fought out between a traditional Liberal Party and a traditional Conservative Party, with no other parties gaining a lasting foothold.2 This has changed in the last ten years. This has changed in the last ten years.

Although named the "War of a Thousand Days," the conflict was really over almost before it began. The Conservative government had vastly superior resources and the Liberals were at the mercy of the eccentricities of their inspirational but incompetent leader Rafael Uribe Uribe. Nevertheless the war dragged on for almost three years, increasingly cruel, increasingly bitter and increasingly futile. From October 1900 neither side took prisoners: a "war to the death" was announced whose sombre implications Colombia is living with still. When it all ended in November 1902 the country was devastated and impoverished, the province of Panama about to be lost for ever and perhaps a hundred thousand Colombians had been slaughtered. Feuds and vendettas resulting from the way the conflict had been fought were to continue for many decades. This has made Colombia a curious country in which the two major parties have ostensibly been bitter enemies for almost two centuries yet have tacitly united to ensure that the people never receive genuine representation. No Latin American nation had fewer coups or dictators.h.i.+ps in the twentieth century than Colombia but the Colombian people have paid a staggeringly high price for this appearance of inst.i.tutional stability.

The War of a Thousand Days was fought over the length and breadth of the country but the centre of gravity gradually s.h.i.+fted north to the Atlantic coastal regions. On the one hand the seat of government, Bogota, was never seriously threatened by the Liberal rebels; and on the other hand, the Liberals inevitably retreated towards the coastal escape routes which their leaders frequently took in order to seek refuge in sympathetic neighbouring countries or the United States, where they would try to raise funds and buy weapons for the next round of hostilities. At this time the northern third of the country, known as la Costa la Costa ("the Coast"), whose inhabitants are called ("the Coast"), whose inhabitants are called costenos costenos (coast-dwellers), comprised two major departments: Bolivar to the west, whose capital was the port of Cartagena; and Magdalena to the east, whose capital was the port of Santa Marta, nestling beneath the mighty Sierra Nevada. The two major cities either side of the Sierra Nevada-Santa Marta to the west and Riohacha to the east-and all the towns in between as you rode around the sierra-Cienaga, Aracataca, Valledupar, Villanueva, San Juan, Fonseca and Barrancas-changed hands many times during the war and provided the scenario for the exploits of Nicolas Marquez and his two eldest, illegitimate children, Jose Maria Valdeblanquez and Carlos Alberto Valdeblanquez. (coast-dwellers), comprised two major departments: Bolivar to the west, whose capital was the port of Cartagena; and Magdalena to the east, whose capital was the port of Santa Marta, nestling beneath the mighty Sierra Nevada. The two major cities either side of the Sierra Nevada-Santa Marta to the west and Riohacha to the east-and all the towns in between as you rode around the sierra-Cienaga, Aracataca, Valledupar, Villanueva, San Juan, Fonseca and Barrancas-changed hands many times during the war and provided the scenario for the exploits of Nicolas Marquez and his two eldest, illegitimate children, Jose Maria Valdeblanquez and Carlos Alberto Valdeblanquez.

Some time in the early 1890s Nicolas Marquez and Tranquilina Iguaran had moved with their two children Juan de Dios and Margarita to the small town of Barrancas in the Colombian Guajira and rented a house in the Calle del Totumo, a few paces from the square. The house still stands today. Senor Marquez set up as a jeweller, making and selling his own pieces-necklaces, rings, bracelets, chains and his speciality, little gold fish-and establis.h.i.+ng, it seems, a profitable business which turned him into a respected member of the community. His apprentice and eventual partner was a younger man called Eugenio Rios, almost an adopted son, with whom he had worked in Riohacha, having brought him from El Carmen de Bolivar. Rios was the half-brother of Nicolas's cousin Francisca Cimodosea Mejia, with whom Nicolas had grown up in El Carmen and whom he would later take with him to Aracataca. When the War of a Thousand Days began, after many years of Liberal frustration and bitterness, Nicolas Marquez was, at thirty-five, getting a bit old for adventure. Besides, he had established a comfortable, productive and agreeable life in Barrancas and was looking to build on his growing prosperity. Still, he joined the army of Uribe Uribe, fought in the Guajira, Padilla and Magdalena provinces and there is evidence that he fought harder and longer than many others. Certainly he was involved from the very start when, as a comandante comandante, he was part of a Liberal army which occupied his native city of Riohacha, and he was still involved at the conclusion of the conflict in October 1902.

By the end of August 1902 the recently reinforced Liberal army, now under the command of Uribe Uribe, who had recently made one of his frequent unscheduled reappearances, had marched its way westward around the sierra from Riohacha to the small village of Aracataca, already known as a Liberal stronghold, arriving on 5 September. There Uribe Uribe held two days of talks with Generals Clodomiro Castillo and Jose Rosario Duran and other officers, including Nicolas Marquez. And it was there, in Aracataca, that they made the fateful decision to fight one more time which would lead to their disastrous defeat at the Battle of Cienaga.

Uribe advanced on Cienaga in the early morning of 14 October 1902. The battle went badly for the Liberals from the moment that a government wars.h.i.+p began to sh.e.l.l their positions from the sea. Uribe Uribe was shot from his mule and several bullets that pierced his jacket miraculously missed his person (not for the first time). He exclaimed, as Garcia Marquez's Colonel Aureliano Buendia might have done: "How many changes of uniform do these d.a.m.ned Goths think I have!" ("Goths" was the Liberal name for the Conservatives.) Nicolas Marquez's teenage son Carlos Alberto died a hero's death; his elder brother Jose Maria, fourth in command of the Conservative army's "Carazua Division," survived.

Two days later, shattered by the death of Carlos Alberto, Jose Maria rode out of Cienaga towards the encampment of the defeated Liberals, where his father, among others, was nursing his wounds. Jose Maria was carrying a peace offer from the Conservatives. As his mule approached the tents of the defeated Liberals an advance party intercepted him and he rode in blindfolded to present the Conservative terms to Uribe Uribe. What took place between the nineteen-year-old illegitimate son and his rebel father on an historic occasion overshadowed for both of them by the death of the younger son, we shall never know. Uribe Uribe discussed the Conservative proposal with his senior officers. They decided to accept. The young messenger rode back to Cienaga and arrived late at night at the railway station, where he was greeted by a delirious crowd and carried aloft to deliver the joyful news. Ten days later, on 24 October 1902, Conservative leaders and Uribe Uribe met with their respective chiefs of staff at a banana plantation called Neerlandia not far from Cienaga, to sign the peace treaty. It was little more than a fig leaf concealing the bitter truth: that the Liberals had suffered a disastrous defeat.

LATE IN 1902, Nicolas Marquez went back to Barrancas and his wife Tranquilina and picked up the threads of his life. In 1905 their third child, Luisa Santiaga, was born and things appeared to have returned to normal. 1902, Nicolas Marquez went back to Barrancas and his wife Tranquilina and picked up the threads of his life. In 1905 their third child, Luisa Santiaga, was born and things appeared to have returned to normal.3 But in 1908 Nicolas was involved in a violent encounter which would change his family's destiny for ever and he was forced to leave Barrancas. Everyone still knew the story when I pa.s.sed through Barrancas eighty-five years later in 1993. Unfortunately everyone told a different version. Still, no one denies the following facts. Around five o'clock on the rainy afternoon of Monday 19 October 1908, the final day of the week-long Festival of the Virgin of Pilar, whilst the procession carrying her image was proceeding to the church just a few streets away, Colonel Nicolas Marquez, a respectable local politician, landowner, silversmith and family man, then in his forties, shot and killed a younger man called Medardo, the nephew of his friend and comrade in arms General Francisco Romero. Something else that no one denies is that Nicolas was a "ladies' man" or, more bluntly, a philanderer. To readers from some other parts of the world this quality might seem to conflict with his image as a man of dignity and good standing among his neighbours. But there are at least two sorts of renown which a man prizes in such a society: one is his "good reputation" as such, the conventional respect, always mingled with fear, which he should know how to impose; and the other is his reputation as a "Don Juan" or a "macho," which others will happily circulate for him, usually with his complaisance. The trick is to ensure that these reputations mutually reinforce one another. But in 1908 Nicolas was involved in a violent encounter which would change his family's destiny for ever and he was forced to leave Barrancas. Everyone still knew the story when I pa.s.sed through Barrancas eighty-five years later in 1993. Unfortunately everyone told a different version. Still, no one denies the following facts. Around five o'clock on the rainy afternoon of Monday 19 October 1908, the final day of the week-long Festival of the Virgin of Pilar, whilst the procession carrying her image was proceeding to the church just a few streets away, Colonel Nicolas Marquez, a respectable local politician, landowner, silversmith and family man, then in his forties, shot and killed a younger man called Medardo, the nephew of his friend and comrade in arms General Francisco Romero. Something else that no one denies is that Nicolas was a "ladies' man" or, more bluntly, a philanderer. To readers from some other parts of the world this quality might seem to conflict with his image as a man of dignity and good standing among his neighbours. But there are at least two sorts of renown which a man prizes in such a society: one is his "good reputation" as such, the conventional respect, always mingled with fear, which he should know how to impose; and the other is his reputation as a "Don Juan" or a "macho," which others will happily circulate for him, usually with his complaisance. The trick is to ensure that these reputations mutually reinforce one another.

The first version I heard was as convincing as any that followed. Filemon Estrada had been born in the very year the events took place. He was now completely sightless, and that long-ago story had retained for him a vividness which other testimonies had lost. Filemon said that Nicolas, who already had several illegitimate children, seduced Medarda Romero, the sister of his old friend General Romero, and then bragged about it over drinks in the square. There was a lot of gossip, most of it at Medarda's expense but some of it involving Tranquilina. Medarda said to her son, "This slander must be washed clean with blood, my son, there's no other way. And if you won't see to him I'll have to put on your trousers and you can put on my skirts!" Medardo, a skilled marksman who had ridden with Nicolas in the war, and now lived in nearby Papayal, repeatedly and publicly challenged and insulted his former commander, who took the warnings seriously and some time later lay in wait for the younger man. Medardo rode in to town on the day of the fiesta, dressed up in a white gabardine raincoat, and took a short cut down an alleyway that no longer exists. As he got down from his horse with a bunch of gra.s.s in one hand and a lighted pilgrim's candle in the other, Nicolas said, "Are you armed, Medardo?" Medardo said "No." "Well, you remember what I told you"-and Nicolas fired one, some say two shots. An old woman who lived down that alleyway came out and said, "So you finally killed him." "The bullet of right has prevailed over might," said Nicolas. "After that," said blind Filemon, "old Nicolas Marquez charged off down the street, leaping over puddles, with his gun in one hand and his umbrella in the other, and looked for Lorenzo Solano Gomez, his compadre compadre, who went with him to give himself up. He was jailed but later his son Jose Maria Valdeblanquez, who was very smart, and almost a lawyer, got him out of jail. Medardo being illegitimate, it wasn't certain whether his surname was Pacheco or Romero, so Valdeblanquez said it wasn't clear who exactly had been killed; it was a technicality, see, and that's how Valdeblanquez got him off."

None other than Ana Rios, the daughter of Nicolas's partner Eugenio, who surely had better reason to know than most, told me that Tranquilina was closely involved in the entire tragedy.4 She recalled that Tranquilina was intensely jealous, and with good reason because Nicolas was always deceiving her. Medarda was a widow and there is always talk about widows in small towns. It was widely rumoured that she was Nicolas's regular mistress. Tranquilina became obsessed with this possibility, perhaps because Medarda was from a higher cla.s.s, and therefore more dangerous, than his other conquests. It was said that Tranquilina consulted witches, brought water from the river to clean her threshold and sprinkled lemon juice around the house. Then one day-it is said-she went out into the street and shouted, "There's a fire at widow Medarda's place, fire, fire!," whereupon a boy she had paid to wait in the tower of the the church of San Jose began to ring the alarm bells, and shortly thereafter Nicolas was seen sneaking out of Medarda's house in broad daylight (presumably while his friend the General was away). She recalled that Tranquilina was intensely jealous, and with good reason because Nicolas was always deceiving her. Medarda was a widow and there is always talk about widows in small towns. It was widely rumoured that she was Nicolas's regular mistress. Tranquilina became obsessed with this possibility, perhaps because Medarda was from a higher cla.s.s, and therefore more dangerous, than his other conquests. It was said that Tranquilina consulted witches, brought water from the river to clean her threshold and sprinkled lemon juice around the house. Then one day-it is said-she went out into the street and shouted, "There's a fire at widow Medarda's place, fire, fire!," whereupon a boy she had paid to wait in the tower of the the church of San Jose began to ring the alarm bells, and shortly thereafter Nicolas was seen sneaking out of Medarda's house in broad daylight (presumably while his friend the General was away).

When he gave his statement to the authorities Nicolas Marquez was asked whether he admitted killing Medardo Romero Pacheco, and he said: "Yes, and if he comes back to life I'll kill him again." The Mayor, a Conservative, resolved to protect Nicolas. Deputies were despatched to collect Medardo's body. He was placed face down in the rain and his hands were tied together behind his back before they carried him away. Most people accept that Medardo sought the confrontation and "asked for" what happened; this may be, although the bare facts seem to demonstrate that it was Nicolas who chose the time, the place and the manner of the final showdown. There is not enough information to appreciate how justified or reprehensible his action may have been; what is crystal clear is that there was nothing remotely heroic about it. Nicolas was not some sedentary farmer but a seasoned war veteran; and the man he killed by stealth was both his military inferior and his junior.

Many in Barrancas saw it as fate. The Spanish word for such an event is a desgracia desgracia, closer to bad luck than to disgrace, and it is said that many of Medardo's family sympathized with the Colonel in his misfortune. Still, there was talk of a lynching and fear of a riot so as soon as it was safe to extricate him, they sent Nicolas under armed guard to Riohacha, his home town. Even there he was not considered secure and was moved to another prison in Santa Marta, on the other side of the Sierra Nevada.5 It seems an influential relative of Tranquilina's got the sentence reduced to just a year in jail in Santa Marta with "the city as his prison" for the second year. Tranquilina, the children and other family members followed him there some months later. Some say he managed to buy his release with the proceeds of his craft; that he worked at his jewellery inside the jail and made fish, b.u.t.terflies and chalices for sale and then bribed his way out. No one has yet found any doc.u.ments relating to the case. It seems an influential relative of Tranquilina's got the sentence reduced to just a year in jail in Santa Marta with "the city as his prison" for the second year. Tranquilina, the children and other family members followed him there some months later. Some say he managed to buy his release with the proceeds of his craft; that he worked at his jewellery inside the jail and made fish, b.u.t.terflies and chalices for sale and then bribed his way out. No one has yet found any doc.u.ments relating to the case.

The Garcia Marquez family never faced up to the full implications of this event and a sanitized version of the story was adopted. According to this version at some point a rumour emerged that Medarda, who was no spring chicken, was once more "doing some local man a favour." One of Nicolas's friends commented on this piece of gossip while they were drinking in the main square and Nicolas said, "I wonder if it's true?" Medarda heard the story in a form which suggested that Nicolas himself had been peddling the rumour, and asked her son to defend her honour. In later years Luisa would often recall that in alluding to the almost unmentionable episode Tranquilina would say, "And all over a simple question." In this version the gunfight is a "duel," the dead man gets what he deserves and the killer becomes "the real victim" of the murder.6 In 1967, in the immediate aftermath of the success of One Hundred Years of Solitude (in which Garcia Marquez gives a less idealized version of the murder than the rest of his family), Mario Vargas Llosa asked its author who the key person was in his childhood. Garcia Marquez replied: "It was my grandfather. And note that he was a gentleman that I found afterwards in my books. He had to kill a man when he was very young. He lived in a town and it seems there was someone who was always bothering him and challenging him, but he took no notice until the situation became so difficult that he simply put a bullet in him. It seems that the town was so much in agreement with what he did that one of the dead man's brothers slept that night in front of the door to the house, in front of my grandfather's room, so that the dead man's family would not come to avenge him. So my grandfather, who could no longer bear the threat that existed against him in that town, went elsewhere; that is to say, he didn't just go to another town; he went far away with his family and founded a new town. Yes, he went and founded a town; yet what I most remember about my grandfather is him always saying to me, 'You don't know how much a dead man weighs.'"7 Many years after that Garcia Marquez would say to me: "I don't know why my grandfather had to be caught up in all that and why it all had to happen but they were tough times after the war. I still believe he just had to do it." Many years after that Garcia Marquez would say to me: "I don't know why my grandfather had to be caught up in all that and why it all had to happen but they were tough times after the war. I still believe he just had to do it."8 It may just be a coincidence but October would always be the gloomiest month, the time of evil augury, in Gabriel Garcia Marquez's novels.

MYSTERY SURROUNDS Nicolas Marquez's movements after his ignominious departure from Barrancas. Nicolas Marquez's movements after his ignominious departure from Barrancas.9 Garcia Marquez's mother Luisa gave different versions to different interlocutors. Garcia Marquez's mother Luisa gave different versions to different interlocutors.10 She told me that she and Tranquilina sailed from Riohacha to Santa Marta a few months after Nicolas was transferred to the prison there (Luisa was only four), that he was released after a year and the family then moved to nearby Cienaga for a further year, arriving in Aracataca in 1910. This had become the official story. But people in Cienaga insist that Nicolas and family spent three years there after his release from prison, from 1910 to 1913, and only moved to Aracataca in 1913. She told me that she and Tranquilina sailed from Riohacha to Santa Marta a few months after Nicolas was transferred to the prison there (Luisa was only four), that he was released after a year and the family then moved to nearby Cienaga for a further year, arriving in Aracataca in 1910. This had become the official story. But people in Cienaga insist that Nicolas and family spent three years there after his release from prison, from 1910 to 1913, and only moved to Aracataca in 1913.11 It may be that Nicolas used Cienaga as a base from which to scout the region for new opportunities; if so, he might have begun to develop political and commercial interests in Aracataca, a mainly Liberal town, before moving his family there. It also seems likely however that one reason for staying in Cienaga, whether for one year or three, was the fact that Cienaga was now the home of Isabel Ruiz, whom Nicolas had met in Panama in 1885, around the time of his marriage to Tranquilina, and who had given birth to his daughter Maria Gregoria Ruiz in 1886. It may be that Nicolas used Cienaga as a base from which to scout the region for new opportunities; if so, he might have begun to develop political and commercial interests in Aracataca, a mainly Liberal town, before moving his family there. It also seems likely however that one reason for staying in Cienaga, whether for one year or three, was the fact that Cienaga was now the home of Isabel Ruiz, whom Nicolas had met in Panama in 1885, around the time of his marriage to Tranquilina, and who had given birth to his daughter Maria Gregoria Ruiz in 1886.

Cienaga, unlike colonial Santa Marta, was modern, commercial, raucous and unrestrained; it was also a hub for regional transportation. It too is on the sh.o.r.es of the Caribbean; it was the connection with the Cienaga Grande, or Great Swamp, across which steamboats travelled to make contact with road traffic heading either for the Magdalena River and Bogota or for the rapidly growing commercial city of Barranquilla; and the first railway in the region ran from Santa Marta to Cienaga after 1887 and then was extended between 1906 and 1908 to run down the spine of the Banana Zone to Aracataca and Fundacion.

The Banana Zone is situated south of Santa Marta, between the Cienaga Grande and the Magdalena River to the west, the Caribbean or Atlantic Ocean to the north, and the great swamp and the Sierra Nevada, whose highest peaks are called Columbus and Bolivar, to the east.12 In the broad plain between the western side of the mountains and the great swamp lay the small settlement called Aracataca, the birthplace of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Up above it rose the Sierra Nevada, home of the reclusive, peace-loving Kogi Indians. The first founders of Aracataca were quite different people, the warlike Chimilas, an Arawak Indian group. The tribe and its chief were called Cataca, "clear water." Thus they renamed the river Cataca, and so their village was called Aracataca ("ara" being river in Chimila), the place of diaphanous waters. In the broad plain between the western side of the mountains and the great swamp lay the small settlement called Aracataca, the birthplace of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Up above it rose the Sierra Nevada, home of the reclusive, peace-loving Kogi Indians. The first founders of Aracataca were quite different people, the warlike Chimilas, an Arawak Indian group. The tribe and its chief were called Cataca, "clear water." Thus they renamed the river Cataca, and so their village was called Aracataca ("ara" being river in Chimila), the place of diaphanous waters.13 In 1887 planters from Santa Marta introduced banana cultivation into the region. In 1905 the Boston-based United Fruit Company moved in. Workers migrated from all over the Caribbean, including cachacos cachacos (the derisive (the derisive costeno costeno name for their compatriots from the interior of the country, especially Bogota), name for their compatriots from the interior of the country, especially Bogota),14 and others from Venezuela, Europe, and even the Middle and Far East: the so-called "leaf-trash" vilified by the protagonists of Garcia Marquez's first novel and others from Venezuela, Europe, and even the Middle and Far East: the so-called "leaf-trash" vilified by the protagonists of Garcia Marquez's first novel Leaf Storm. Leaf Storm. Within a few years Aracataca was transformed from a small settlement to a thriving towns.h.i.+p, a "Wild West boom town," in Garcia Marquez's phrase. It became a munic.i.p.ality, a fully functioning part of Colombia's national political system, in 1915. Within a few years Aracataca was transformed from a small settlement to a thriving towns.h.i.+p, a "Wild West boom town," in Garcia Marquez's phrase. It became a munic.i.p.ality, a fully functioning part of Colombia's national political system, in 1915.

The real leader of the town was not Colonel Marquez, as his grandson would frequently claim, but General Jose Rosario Duran.15 Duran had several large plantations around Aracataca; he had led the Liberal forces in regional wars for two decades and was the effective leader of the Aracataca Liberals for almost half a century. Nicolas Marquez had been one of his close military subordinates, and became perhaps his most trusted political ally in Aracataca, during the 191013 period. It was Duran, then, who had helped Marquez to get installed in the town, to buy land out at Ariguani and other properties in the town itself, and to acquire the posts of departmental tax collector and later munic.i.p.al treasurer. Duran had several large plantations around Aracataca; he had led the Liberal forces in regional wars for two decades and was the effective leader of the Aracataca Liberals for almost half a century. Nicolas Marquez had been one of his close military subordinates, and became perhaps his most trusted political ally in Aracataca, during the 191013 period. It was Duran, then, who had helped Marquez to get installed in the town, to buy land out at Ariguani and other properties in the town itself, and to acquire the posts of departmental tax collector and later munic.i.p.al treasurer.16 These responsibilities, added to his military reputation, made Colonel Marquez undoubtedly one of the most respected and powerful members of the local community, though he was always dependent on Duran's goodwill and subject to pressures from the Conservative government's political appointees and the managers of the United Fruit Company. These responsibilities, added to his military reputation, made Colonel Marquez undoubtedly one of the most respected and powerful members of the local community, though he was always dependent on Duran's goodwill and subject to pressures from the Conservative government's political appointees and the managers of the United Fruit Company.

Garcia Marquez's mother Luisa told me that Nicolas was named "departmental tax collector" of Aracataca early in the century,17 possibly in 1909, but did not take his family there immediately because of the poor sanitary conditions in the newly developing tropical boom town, at that time a village of fewer than two thousand people. Still, let us imagine them all arriving-Colonel Marquez, Dona Tranquilina, their three legitimate children, Juan de Dios, Margarita and Luisa, his illegitimate daughter Elvira Rios, his sister Wenefrida Marquez, his cousin Francisca Cimodosea Mejia, and his three Indian servants, Alirio, Apolinar and Meme, bought for 100 pesos each in the Guajira-on the banana company's yellow-painted train, full of optimism, on an exploratory visit, in August 1910. Unfortunately the zone around Aracataca was still unhealthy and plagued by disease, and tragedy struck the new arrivals almost immediately when twenty-one-year-old Margarita died of typhoid. Always pale, with her fair hair in two plaits, she was the Colonel's pride and joy and he and his superst.i.tious family may have interpreted her death as some kind of further punishment for his sins in Barrancas. Now she would never make the kind of marriage her parents were no doubt envisaging, and all their hopes would rest on little Luisa. Family tradition tells that shortly before she died, Margarita sat up in bed, looking at her father, and said: "The eyes of your house are going out." possibly in 1909, but did not take his family there immediately because of the poor sanitary conditions in the newly developing tropical boom town, at that time a village of fewer than two thousand people. Still, let us imagine them all arriving-Colonel Marquez, Dona Tranquilina, their three legitimate children, Juan de Dios, Margarita and Luisa, his illegitimate daughter Elvira Rios, his sister Wenefrida Marquez, his cousin Francisca Cimodosea Mejia, and his three Indian servants, Alirio, Apolinar and Meme, bought for 100 pesos each in the Guajira-on the banana company's yellow-painted train, full of optimism, on an exploratory visit, in August 1910. Unfortunately the zone around Aracataca was still unhealthy and plagued by disease, and tragedy struck the new arrivals almost immediately when twenty-one-year-old Margarita died of typhoid. Always pale, with her fair hair in two plaits, she was the Colonel's pride and joy and he and his superst.i.tious family may have interpreted her death as some kind of further punishment for his sins in Barrancas. Now she would never make the kind of marriage her parents were no doubt envisaging, and all their hopes would rest on little Luisa. Family tradition tells that shortly before she died, Margarita sat up in bed, looking at her father, and said: "The eyes of your house are going out."18 Her pale presence would live on in the collective memory, especially, paradoxically, in a picture taken when she was ten years old; and the anniversary of the day she died, 31 December, would never again be celebrated in the large, comfortable house which the Colonel began to build near the Plaza Bolivar. Her pale presence would live on in the collective memory, especially, paradoxically, in a picture taken when she was ten years old; and the anniversary of the day she died, 31 December, would never again be celebrated in the large, comfortable house which the Colonel began to build near the Plaza Bolivar.

Nicolas Marquez, though never wealthy, and always hoping in vain for the pension promised to all veterans of the civil war, became one of the makes.h.i.+ft community's local notables, a big fish in a small pool, the eventual owner of a large wooden residence with cement floors which in Aracataca would be considered-not least by his grandson Gabriel-a veritable mansion by comparison with the shacks and hovels that housed most of their fellow townsfolk.

THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER Luisa was almost nineteen and her father had already turned sixty when in July of 1924 a new telegraphist named Gabriel Eligio Garcia arrived in town from his native Since. Luisa was almost nineteen and her father had already turned sixty when in July of 1924 a new telegraphist named Gabriel Eligio Garcia arrived in town from his native Since.19 By that time Aracataca had been enjoying the By that time Aracataca had been enjoying the jai lai jai lai or "high life" for several years. Luisa had been sent to the Colegio de la Presentacion, the most respected convent school in stuffy Santa Marta, though she had left at seventeen due to her delicate health. "She never went back because our grandparents said she looked very thin and worn and they were afraid she would die like her sister Margarita," her daughter Ligia recalls. or "high life" for several years. Luisa had been sent to the Colegio de la Presentacion, the most respected convent school in stuffy Santa Marta, though she had left at seventeen due to her delicate health. "She never went back because our grandparents said she looked very thin and worn and they were afraid she would die like her sister Margarita," her daughter Ligia recalls.20 Luisa could sew and play the piano. She had been educated to embody the improvement in station that Nicolas and Tranquilina were looking for as consolation when they moved from the Guajira to the Banana Zone. So the Colonel was thunderstruck at the idea that his carefully groomed daughter might be falling in love with a dark-skinned no-account telegraphist from elsewhere, a man with no father and few prospects. Luisa could sew and play the piano. She had been educated to embody the improvement in station that Nicolas and Tranquilina were looking for as consolation when they moved from the Guajira to the Banana Zone. So the Colonel was thunderstruck at the idea that his carefully groomed daughter might be falling in love with a dark-skinned no-account telegraphist from elsewhere, a man with no father and few prospects.

Nicolas Marquez and his daughter's suitor, Gabriel Eligio Garcia, had very little in common when they met except, ironically enough, a matter which is a recurrent theme of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's work: a collection of illegitimate children. Although Nicolas had been born in wedlock and Gabriel Eligio out of wedlock, each had engendered more than one illegitimate child by the time they married in their early twenties.

Gabriel Eligio had spent his childhood and youth in poverty, though little is known in detail of his early life-indeed, little detail seems to have been asked of him even by his children: it was always the Marquez side which counted, and the Guajira connection.21 We do know that he had half-brothers and half-sisters named Luis Enrique, Benita, Julio, Ena Marquesita, Adan Reinaldo and Eliecer. We also know that, with the help of relatives, he completed his secondary education-a notable achievement anywhere in the world in those days-and we hear that in the early 1920s he managed to begin some courses in the medical school of the University of Cartagena, but was soon forced to abandon them. He would later tell his children that his father, a teacher, had undertaken to fund his training but ran into financial problems and had to renege on his promise. Without the means to sustain his studies, he left home and looked for work in the Caribbean provinces of Cordoba and Bolivar, working mainly as a small-town telegraphist but also as a homeopathic physician, and travelling the entire frontier region of rivers, swamps and forests. He became possibly the first telegraphist of Magangue, then worked in Tolu, Sincelejo and other towns. At that time the position of telegraphist was undoubtedly reputable among the lower cla.s.ses, depending as it did on modern technology in the machinery and literacy in the operator. It was also hard, demanding work. In Achi, a small town on the River Cauca, south of Sucre, the first of his four illegitimate children, Abelardo, was born, when Gabriel Eligio was just nineteen, and in 1924 he ran into more trouble in Ayapel, on the border of Cordoba province and what is now Sucre province, on the edge of a vast swamp. There, in August 1924, he asked his first true sweetheart, Carmelina Hermosillo, to marry him after she gave birth to another child, Carmen Rosa. During a trip to Barranquilla to make the arrangements, he was apparently dissuaded by his relative Carlos Henrique Pareja from such a naive decision, We do know that he had half-brothers and half-sisters named Luis Enrique, Benita, Julio, Ena Marquesita, Adan Reinaldo and Eliecer. We also know that, with the help of relatives, he completed his secondary education-a notable achievement anywhere in the world in those days-and we hear that in the early 1920s he managed to begin some courses in the medical school of the University of Cartagena, but was soon forced to abandon them. He w