The significance of telling a truth at a matanza has grown over the generations. For inevitably every now and then the truth spoken proves prophetic and memorable. This was the case for Trini and his cousin, Espy, one sunny Saturday in October.
The two cousins were very close. They were born only a day apart. Espy arrived first, as would always be the case in their lives.
In that notorious matanza, they arrived together, each accompanied by a beautiful girlfriend. When the maestro began to prepare the sacrifice of the hosted steer, he asked Espy, a stout man, to help hold it still.
“Thank you gentle beast for the nourishment you’ll give our families,” the maestro said solemnly.
The steer didn’t oblige. It struggled and struggled a long time before it gave up its life.
The crowd looked on intently, motionless and quiet.
After a long pause, almost past the point where it was acceptable to speak a truth, Trini spoke up.
“I love my cousin more than anything in this world. I’m very thankful that he’s accompanied me to everything important event in my life, good and bad,” he said, gesturing with an open hand toward Espy, who was still holding on to the steer.
Espy looked up at his cousin and turned toward the maestro, who nodded that he could let go.
“Pos, I love my cousin more than anything in this world, and I wouldn’t hesitate to follow him into the other world if he needed me there,” he replied to Trini.
“Contrato, primo?” said Trini.
“Contrato,” replied Espy.
This ended the truth-telling in the matanza. The maestro continued with his work. The crowd stepped back.
“I forgot something. I’ll go get it and come right back,” Trini told his date and raced toward his truck.
The trail of dust rising behind Trini’s truck streaked across the expansive plain where the matanza was taking place, lingering even after the truck had disappeared over the horizon.
The dust hadn’t settled when a speeding vehicle coming the opposite direction re-energized the long trail of dust.
A white Ford Galaxie emerged at the end. Respecting the work the maestro and his crew were doing, the car stopped slowly far enough away to avoid raising dust around the exposed carcass.
A man stepped out and walked hurriedly to the maestro.
“Trini just crashed into a car on the highway,” he announced.
Espy immediately dashed to his truck and sped out.
His truck was no sooner over the horizon when another vehicle emerged headed back the other way. When it finally reached the matanza, a young man jumped out excitedly.
“Espy just crashed into a truck on the highway. They’re both gone now, him and his cousin,” the young man said somberly.
Everybody lowered their heads.
“Contrato de amadres,” somebody in the crowd said.
