{"id":20088,"date":"2025-02-23T13:00:57","date_gmt":"2025-02-23T17:00:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=20088"},"modified":"2025-02-23T13:46:01","modified_gmt":"2025-02-23T17:46:01","slug":"jose-maria-arguedas-the-pongos-dream","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/jose-maria-arguedas-the-pongos-dream\/20088\/","title":{"rendered":"Jos\u00e9 Mar\u00eda Arguedas: The Pongo\u2019s Dream"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis:<\/strong> The Pongo’s Dream <\/em>(El sue\u00f1o del pongo), a folk tale compiled by Jos\u00e9 Mar\u00eda Arguedas, narrates the life of a pongo, an indigenous servant in a hacienda, who suffers constant humiliation and abuse at the hands of his master. Despite his humble status and frail appearance, the pongo carries out his tasks diligently, although always surrounded by an aura of sadness and resignation. One day, the pongo tells his boss about a dream in which they both appear dead and are judged very peculiarly by San Francisco, revealing a profound reflection on justice and human dignity.<\/p>\n\n\n

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\"Jos\u00e9<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The Pongo\u2019s Dream<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

By Jos\u00e9 Mar\u00eda Arguedas
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A little man headed to his master\u2019s mansion. As one of the serfs on the lord\u2019s estate, he had to perform the duty of a pongo, a lowly house servant. He had a small and feeble body, a meek spirit. His clothes were old and tattered. Everything about him was pitiful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The great lord, owner of the mansion and lands surrounding it, could not help laughing when the little man greeted him in the mansion\u2019s corridors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018What are you? A person or something else?\u2019\u2019 the lord asked the little man in front of all the other serfs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pongo bowed his head and did not answer. He stood frightened, eyes frozen. \u2018\u2018Let\u2019s see!\u2019\u2019 the lord said. \u2018\u2018With those worthless little hands, you must at least know how to scrub pots or use a broom. Take this garbage away!\u2019\u2019 he ordered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pongo knelt to kiss his master\u2019s hand and followed him to the kitchen hanging his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little man had a small body but an average man\u2019s strength. Whatever he was told to do he did well, but he always wore a slight look of horror on his face. Some of the serfs laughed at him, while others pitied him. \u2018\u2018The most orphaned of all orphans,\u2019\u2019 a cook of mixed blood once said upon seeing him. \u2018\u2018His frozen eyes must be children of the moon wind, his heart must be all sadness.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little man rarely talked to anyone. He worked and ate quietly. Whatever they ordered him to do was done obediently. \u2018\u2018Yes, papacito, yes, mamacita,\u2019\u2019 were the only words he uttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps because of the little man\u2019s frightened look and his threadbare, filthy clothes, or perhaps because of his unwillingness to talk, the lord regarded the pongo with special contempt. He enjoyed humiliating him most at dusk, when all the serfs gathered to say the Hail Mary in the mansion\u2019s great hall. He would shake him vehemently in front of the serfs like a piece of animal skin. He would push his head down and force him to kneel, and then, when the little man was on his knees, slap him lightly on the face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018I believe you are a dog. Bark!\u2019\u2019 he would tell the pongo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little man could not bark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Stand on all fours,\u2019\u2019 the lord would order him next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pongo would obey and start crawling on all fours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Walk sideways like a dog,\u2019\u2019 the lord would demand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little man had learned to run like the small dogs inhabiting the high moors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The lord would laugh heartily. His whole body shook with exhilaration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Come back here!\u2019\u2019 he would yell, when the servant reached the end of the great hall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pongo would return, running sideways, arriving out of breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Meanwhile, some of the other serfs would quietly say their Hail Marys, as if their voices were a wind hidden in their hearts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Perk up your ears, hare! You are just an ugly hare!\u2019\u2019 the lord would command the exhausted little man. \u2018\u2018Sit on your two paws. Put your hands together.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pongo could sit in the exact same prayerful pose that these animals take when they stand still on the rocks, looking as if he had learned this habit while in his mother\u2019s womb. But the one thing he could not do was perk up his ears. Some of the serfs laughed at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With his boot, the lord would then knock him to the brick floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Let us say the Our Father,\u2019\u2019 he would then say to his Indians as they waited in line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pongo would get up slowly, but he could not pray because he was not in his place, nor did any place belong to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the darkness, the serfs would leave the great hall for the courtyard and head to their living quarters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Get out of here, offal!\u2019\u2019 the master would often order the pongo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And so, every day, in front of the other serfs, the master would make his new pongo jump to his demands. He would force him to laugh, to fake tears. He would hand him over to the other workers so that they would ridicule him too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But… one afternoon, during the Hail Mary, when the hall was filled with everyone who worked and lived on the lord\u2019s estate and the master himself began to stare at the pongo with loathing and contempt, that same little man spoke very clearly. His face remained a bit frightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Great lord, please grant me permission. Dear lord, I wish to speak to you.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The lord could not believe his ears. \u2018\u2018What? Was that you who spoke or someone else?\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Your permission, dear master, to speak to you. It is you I want to talk to,\u2019\u2019 the pongo replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Talk… if you can.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018My father, my lord, my dear heart,\u2019\u2019 the little man began. \u2018\u2018Last night, I dreamt that the two of us had died. Together, we had died.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018You with me? You? Tell all, Indian,\u2019\u2019 the master said to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Since we were dead men, my lord, the two of us were standing naked before our dear father Saint Francis, both of us, next to each other.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018And then? Talk!\u2019\u2019 ordered the master, partly out of anger and partly anxious with curiosity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018When he saw us dead, naked, both standing together, our dear father Saint Francis looked at us closely with those eyes that reach and measure who knows what lengths. He examined you and me, judging, I believe, each of our hearts, the kind of person we were, the kind of person we are. You confronted that gaze as the rich and powerful man that you are, my father.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018And you?\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018I cannot know how I was, great lord. I cannot know my worth.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Well, keep talking.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Then, our father spoke: \u2018May the most beautiful of all the angels come forth. May a lesser angel of equal beauty accompany the supreme one. May the lesser angel bring a golden cup filled with the most delicate and translucent honey.\u2019 \u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018And then?\u2019\u2019 the master asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Indian serfs listened, listened to the pongo with a limitless attention, yet also afraid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018My owner, as soon as our great father Saint Francis gave his order, an angel appeared, shimmering, as tall as the sun. He walked very slowly until he stood before our father. A smaller angel, beautiful, glowing like a gentle flower, marched behind the supreme angel. He was holding in his hands a golden cup.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018And then?\u2019\u2019 the master asked once again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018 \u2018Supreme angel, cover this gentleman with the honey that is in the golden cup. Let your hands be feathers upon touching this man\u2019s body,\u2019 ordered our great father. And so, the lofty angel lifted the honey with his hands and glossed your whole body with it, from your head down to your toenails. And you swelled with pride. In the splendor of the heavens, your body shone as if made of transparent gold.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018That is the way it must be,\u2019\u2019 said the lord. \u2018\u2018And what happened to you?\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018When you were shining in the sky, our great father Saint Francis gave another order. \u2018From all the angels in heaven, may the very least, the most ordinary come forth. May that angel bring along a gasoline can filled with human excrement.\u2019 \u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018And then?\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018A worthless, old angel with scaly feet, too weak to keep his wings in place, appeared before our father. He came very tired, his wings drooping at his sides, carrying a large can. \u2018Listen,\u2019 our great father ordered the angel. \u2018Smear the body of this little man with the excrement from that can you brought. Smear his whole body any way you want and cover it all the best you can. Hurry up!\u2019 So the old angel took the excrement with his coarse hands and smeared my body unevenly, sloppily, just like you would smear mud on the walls of an ordinary adobe house. And in the midst of the heavenly light, I stank and was filled with shame.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018Just as it should be!\u2019\u2019 crowed the master. \u2018\u2018Keep going! Or is that the end?\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u2018No, my little father, my lord. When we were once again together, yet changed, before our father Saint Francis, he took another look at us, first at you, then at me, a long time. With those eyes that reach across the heavens, I don\u2019t know to what depths, joining night and day, memory and oblivion. Then he said: \u2018Whatever the angels had to do with you is done. Now, lick each other\u2019s bodies slowly, for all eternity.\u2019 At that moment, the old angel became young again. His wings regained their blackness and great strength. Our father entrusted him with making sure that his will was carried out.\u2019\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n