ustxtxb_obs_2004_03_12_50_00022-00000_000.pdf

BOOKS & THE CULTURE A Man and his Parrot BY JOSE RABINOVICH Note: The following short story is reprinted from Yiddish South of the Border: An Anthology of Latin American Yiddish Writing, edited by Alan Astro and published by University of New Mexico Press. was born in Bialystok and arrived in Argentina in 1924. The lyrical tendencies of his first works gave way to a portrayal of Argentine poverty. His later work in Spanish is typified by the poetic volume, El violonista bajo el tejado \(“The Fiddler 1970. Editor Alan Astro is a professor in the Department of Modern Languages and Literature at Trinity University in San Antonio. “A Man and his Parrot” story was translated from the Yiddish by longtime TO contributing writer Debbie Nathan. It is published with permission from the University of New Mexico Press. 1 t is barely six in the morning and the stars are still out, but Manuel has to get up. It isn’t a job that wakes him. That obligation used to get him right to his feet, but now? Now just getting dressed is drudgery. His pants, his shoesthey resist when he puts them on. His hands have become so powerless that they can hardly drag his clothes on. He and his clothes are mutual enemies. His feet, like an old man’s, don’t want to walkthey balk. He can’t stop yawning. What is he yawning about? Maybe he didn’t get enough sleep? On the contrary, he slept too much. If only someone would knock on the door and say “Manuel, time for work!” He is itching to do something so his hands will turn back into hands. So his body will be hard and strong. So he will stop yawning. So he will be a real man! But since nobody comes to his door or into his heart, Manuel moves like a phantom, with his socks in one hand and a shoe in the other. In his hands his clothes look like rags. His hands, too. Manuel gets up to make mate for Matilda. He rolls the bitterness inside his mouth and catches it in his throat, unable to swallow, but unable to spit it out either. And the harsh taste refuses to stay in his throat. It goes all through his body and is concentrated around his heart. What a life! Matilda needs a mate brought to her in bed and put in her hand to drink. His wife deserves this: after all, she is supporting them. It would be so good if he didn’t have to do this. His excuse is that she is not sustaining only them but also another life inside her. In such a case, a man should take care of his wife. He dotes on her a bit more to make it easier for her to carry the burden he put in her body. But ever since he became the housewife and she the breadwinnereven though she still seems like the same old Matildasomething has been piercing him like cats’ claws, destroying him. It’s a good thing to serve one’s wife a mate in bed. It’s an honor for the wife and no disgrace for the husband. But the terrible thing is that his wife knew this is only a duty he is forced to carry out because she brings home the rent money. Too, she buys him socks on the street, and shenot heinstructs that money be taken from the box on the table to shop for what they need. That is why it’s no good, bringing his wife a mate in bed. Still, he knows Matilda isn’t that kind of woman. She cares about him. She doesn’t mind going to work, or even that he is unemployed. She doesn’t think the things he imagines that she thinks. But she could be thinking them. After all, any woman would, and besides, Manuel is forcing her to think that way. It is thus no surprise that his clothes look like rags in his hands when he gets dressed at six o’clock to bring his wife a mate in bed. The stars are still in the sky, and it is still dark outside. It is winter. If it were summer it would already be light by now, bright and pleasant, and he would not have to turn on the electricity in the kitchen. Matilda can make mate in the dark. Manuel can’t, even though he would rather be in the dark. In the dark, the work doesn’t seem so distasteful. There’s mate, and sugar too, but no coffee to sprinkle in. What a numbskull he is they were out of coffee yesterday, too. And she can’t drink mate without it. Or maybe she can, but she claims she can’t. She usually says that everything he does is fine. But it seems to him that she really feels just the opposite, yet doesn’t want him to feel bad that he’s the housewife. So she says she can’t drink mate without coffee so that he will be encouraged to learn how to run the house. He sneaks into the kitchen on tiptoe so their parrot won’t see him. Damned parrot! They’ve put up with so much from each other; they’ve had a longstanding, bitter war. Who will be the victor? Who will survive? Manuel, of course. After all, he has more years left to live than the parrot. Still, the parrot has given Manuel so much heartache, so much real anguish, that he is letting him die of thirst. As long as the parrot screams “Master!” Manuel will not put water in the cage. The parrot is just another problem. He would let it scream if there were no neighbors in courtyardwould let the bird yell “Master!” until it exploded, and who would care? If no one else could hear, Manuel would not be taking it to heart. Of course he would not feel happy about being mocked. After all, how can anyone be happy who 22 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 3/12/04