Obscura Fabula (Dark Shorts)

Tri-Col-Trí Jalouín

Tri-Col-Trí Jalouín

The contagious sweet laughter of the children as they ran by the narrow cobblestoned streets was a melodious chant to innocence. The little ones dressed in their humble home elaborated costumes resembled ghosts, witches, angels, pirates, and other regional night creatures. They sang in a high pitch choir "Tri-col-trí Jalouín, dame chavos, no maní!"as they went knocking at each door by the Norzagarai Street. The blue stoned alley streets were covered with the colorful cellophane squared wraps that once enveloped the delicious sweets they were given after the 'trick or treat' regionalized chant.

And it was after the 'gringos' invasion a decade ago that all these traditions converged into the insular culture. The deep Spanish Catholic roots abhorred the pagan celebration brought by the Americans, but the festivity was too colorful and attractive for kids that it quickly fixated to the calendar in the very last day of October and in a Spanglish tune, everyone asked for treats no matter in what Saint they believed.

Hundreds of children running up and down the different plazas in the older part of the Walled City followed closely by their parents, waved good bye to their friends as the sun was setting down in the horizon. The tropical shades of scarlets and oranges faded away turning into indigos and blacks and the first stars flickered in the skies that crowned the night in the Old San Juan. The gibbous silvery moon resembled a round lustrous plate and its whitish feeble glow dimly illuminated the narrow streets up to the ancient historical graveyard, where no one ventured to ask for neither tricks or treat, money or candies so close where the dead rested.

The always painted in white grave stones, mausoleums marble statues in San Juan Old Cemetery were the illustrious parsonages' of the Island last dwelling. Only the rich and renowned passed away members of the elite families from Puerto Rico were buried there. Even after dead they shared a common space with the insular socialite.

On the sidewalk, 'El Sereno' turned on the street lights a little earlier than expected that night, specially in the area contiguous to the Cemetery and El Morro. There were too many frightening stories told about ghosts of former Spanish governors of the Island or fallen soldiers' spirits that roamed at they will in the northern extreme of the walled city. The locals simply didn't venture to stroll in the darkest hours and the American guards gambled the chance of not taking the night shifts.

In the 'garita' the guard shivered as he filled the rifle's barrel with gunpowder. He swallowed a lump in his throat and the sweat dropping from his head to the ground mixed with dirt and moss and the recently formed puddle of smelly urine by is feet.

In the distance, the sea breeze carried the sound of playing drums and grave voices that intoned forlorn canticles of a forbidden rite.

The gringo guard left the darkness and the acrid environment of the confined stoned surveillance chamber and sauntered to the open cannons yard. With his rifle in hand, he would aim and shot to whatever strange thing happened to move nearby in that precise night when it was believe the dead would rise from their graves to torment the poor souls of the living ones. He still could hear the chants, like everyone else did, yet no one dared to set a foot on the cemetery because evil paraded that eve.

In the cemetery it was midnight and the moon shone high in the sky, but amongst the graves it was as dark as the pits of Hell. The men, dressed in light cotton white tunics and pants and wearing colorful 'Santería' beaded necklaces, played the drums in the chaotic rhythm of the Afro-Caribbean frantic melodies. The women wore only long white skirts and their exuberant breasts were barely covered by the hanging symbolical jewelry made with crystal beads and sea-shells. On their heads they wore pearlescent crowns, mimicking goddess Yemoja's outfit. And to the beat of the crying drums, the ladies danced barefooted over the gravestones and flapped their wide and loose skirts in a frenetic motion.