THREE MEXICAN STORIES
25
men stretch out their arms cross-like in disconnected jerky ges–
tures, the same as a weary jackass scratches its back on the hot
sand, trying to find a decent place to rest. Then, as though
pouring out of the doors of hell, a luminous procession winds
upward from the belly of the mine. They are coming back to
earth after tearing from the rock that transmutable metal which,
at the first touch of light, becomes a trumps of the seven major
sins. Their murmur, half-hearted at first, grows persistently,
steadily, until it turns into a single long lament, unending, knott–
ed in a maze of dull notes.
Hundreds of Mexican voices mingle in chorus, repeating
together a prayer, lifting up their
alabado,
a nightly chant that
is more than the giving of thanks-a useless complaint, a fic–
titious sedative, a ballast on the way up, a moan of decay, a sup–
plication....
But this song of resignation does not rise of itself, it stays
down, winding like fire-damp, curling around the little sharp
stones that jut out beneath the earth for no other reason than
to wound with their pointed edges the naked feet of the miners.
This absurd prayer, in order to get to the surface at all,
has to knot itself about the necks of the men, Then they drag
it behind them, as if they did not already have enough to carry
on their shoulders.
When the first footsteps touch the bottom rung, the ladder
becomes suddenly tense as these human beings begin to climb and
climb without ceasing to pray, leaving behind a pa rt of them–
selves, like a payment on a bill they cannot escape.
But suddenly their chant of grief and death is pierced by a
cry
of warning, "Watch out for the pick!"
And the man from whose hands the tool has fallen looks
down. The whole ladder is lighted by the anemic flames of little
lanterns of gas tied to the belts of a hundred workers climbing up
the shaft. At the cry of warning, the long worm of light con–
torts like a whip.
"Watch out for the hammer I"
"Watch out for the lantern!"
"Watch out for the shovel."
These phrases resound night after night as though welded
to an axle of grief-for in order to avoid tragedy, it is a rule
that a warning must be shouted to those who are ascending.
Meanwhile, the first man has reached the mouth of the pit.
The prayer has completed its mission-it has achieved the earth.
