CAFE CON PAN – COFFEE WITH BREAD
Friday, July 30, 2010
The whizzle could be heard far as the ear could hear... the echoes were as strong as if announcing the end of a combative, highly emotinal soccer game. The whizzle was blown a second time, you could tell it was coming from behind the hill as it got carried down hill and lost into the tiguilote trees, mangoes, and even the cows lifted their heads in affirmation of the sound... one by one the kids ran out, all excited as if they were ready to dance under a summer rain. Their happy faces were lit with smiles, happy screams, and as if singing in a chorus together they screamed in unision “DON NAPOLEON!” Off they went down the little canyon, through the fences...rasing top speed to catch up with Don NAPO.
It’s a long lasting memory, the thrill of hearing the whizzle...even in my dreams; I hear it coming from miles and miles away, past the river and over the hills. And we would wait, daily to hear the whizzle...until there came the day, where the whizzle faded and its melody no longer tickled out ears...Don Napoleon passed by on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but we waited to hear the whizzle daily...-sigh-
Don NAPO was his name, an older gentleman who walked great distances, often shoeless or he would wear caipes (a type of handmade leather flip/flops). He wore all white as if representing an ancient ghost walking in the lonely valleys of decay and forgetfulness. He was quite the charicature, so faint and delicate...yet to us he was a type of heroe, like Hercules carrying such a magnificent basket loaded with bread. We never quite knew exactly where he came from; we just knew he was there as his whizzle announced his ghostly presence.
Our bewildered eyes could not believe the size of the bread basket, loaded with fresh baked French bread – Pan Frances. It was our daily provision as one would say...the aroma spoke for itself... slowly Don NAPO would lower the basket, pull the table cloth and revealed the golden and inviting bread- the tastiest of breads our mouths had ever savored... one by one we handed over a quater, receiving in return a good sizeble piece of bread...
Don NAPO never outtered a word, but we knew he was excited to see us. We were regular “clients,” although Victor was the one that waited on him, our anxious little spirits would wait to hear or get a glimpse of Don NAPO as he crossed the desolate fields...Much to our existence, he was part of our lives when in Zacatecoluca...
And here we are, taking a glimpse into the past, recollecting the mere memories of this great man. Whomever, he was, a granddad, a brother, a friend, he was our Don Napoleon – just as the name defines: he traveled long distances to and from selling the bread that once became our only source – Pan con Cafe. May his memory live on and his story be told...we shall never forget!
-Maria Fuentes Viera -
Written - Wednesday, November 10, 2010 at 11:48am
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