The sun was already up, it was almost 10 in the morning.

Right in the crux formed by the Santisima street and the Hernandez Family Street, (Eva, Felipe and Jeronimo).

There were the last residues of the big bonfire that was lit most of the night.

It was a customary celebration on the Dia de Los Muertos, the second day of November.

On Dia de Los Muertos, as children, we used to go to the houses in the neighborhood to beg for a gift for our Calaveras, (skulls and skeletons) We made calaveras of bamboo or from chilacayotes.

We used to ask for tlaxcales a delicious light corn bread made of special corn that can only be harvested during that week. The corn produced a milk like juice that is perfect to make tlaxcales.

But Amador continued sitting on the large rock on the corner of the street. Large tears were coming from his eyes, he was silent.

The festivities of the previous night were events of the past, The sunlight of the mid-morning clearly said so.  It was time to continue what needed to be continued yet Amador remained immobile, and his silent tears continued. Amador must have been 20 years old, donning a noble face with easy smiles without being scandalous.

As soon as the school opened Amador enrolled but it was clear that he was a tad old for the 6^th grade. But before, there were no schools available.

Yet despite the age differential, he enrolled, and he was a good student.

His presence seated on a rock at the corner of the street with silent tears did not make sense.

The young man was petrified, he was covered with his gaban, upon getting close to him it was noticed that he had been stabbed with a large knife and the knife was still sticked in his neck. There was some blood on the lower part of the neck but not much. Most of it had gone down towards his chest, but again, not very much.

The sight was grotesque once you were able to identify all the elements that constituted the whole morning.

A bright sunny morning, the remains of a large bonfire still with scattered flames, bright red embers and ash. A young tearing man, covered with a sarape, A large knife sticking from his neck clearly a Dantesque view.

All incongruent, a dislocated, ALL!,

No one dared to move him, let alone remove the knife. Some words of encouragement were said. The knife did not touch an important artery/vein. He was breathing well yet unable to talk.

I am sure that someone must have summoned the Red Cross which in Mexico provides excellent emergency care.

Life continued its inexorable march.

I never saw Amador back in the school since then or any other place for that matter.

I trust that his treatment was successful, the fact that he did not die on the spot was nothing short of miraculous…….

I must beg to you, the reader, forgiveness for the length of the narration of Amador.  particularly since Amador did not die despite the stabbing of his neck. Such specific event. The, NOT dying despite of it all, brought to my mind the Fall from the Devil’s tusk…..An event that…..it is another adventure in the life of Sewage Rat…..Well, I must wait for the generosity of your time and permission before I continue!!….

Netzahualcoyotl