{"id":35113,"date":"2024-06-12T13:01:22","date_gmt":"2024-06-12T19:01:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/2024\/06\/from-savagery-translated-by-katie-brown\/"},"modified":"2024-07-09T19:21:53","modified_gmt":"2024-07-10T01:21:53","slug":"from-savagery-translated-by-katie-brown","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/2024\/06\/from-savagery-translated-by-katie-brown\/","title":{"rendered":"From Savagery, translated by Katie Brown"},"content":{"rendered":"

Electric, defiant, and singing with melancholia, Alejandra Banca\u2019s devastating debut throws its arms around a displaced generation of young Venezuelan migrants, reveling in the clamor and beauty of their day-by-day survival.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Bum-Ba-Da-Da\u0301h-Da Da-Da-Da\u0301h-Da\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

The cramp brings her to a dead stop. Feet flat on the asphalt, hands tightly gripping the handlebars. Her womb contracts again and Mari\u0301a Eugenia bites her lip. She doesn\u2019t have ibuprofen or anything for the pain. Her meds are stored away in a cosmetics bag hidden in her suitcase; she only uses them for real emergencies because medicines are expensive here. Menstrual pain doesn\u2019t come under an emergency, but, fuck, it hurts. She looks up: the street brings her back to reality.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Come on, Mari\u0301a Eugenia, let\u2019s go. <\/span><\/i>She settles onto the bike again and starts pedaling. The pain in her legs is nothing compared to what she feels in her hips. Her body shudders with the aftershocks of an earthquake and her belly is the epicenter.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Only a few more streets before she can deliver the order. She knows the last street will be the most difficult because it\u2019s uphill. <\/span>Freaking Carmel streets. Concentrate on pedaling to forget the pain. <\/span><\/i>Sometimes she imagines she\u2019s in a game and she needs to go faster to win more points; other times she thinks she\u2019s competing in the Tour de France. She tries to spur herself on thinking about the physical side: she\u2019s thinner, her legs are stronger, she has more stamina. Then there are moments when she lives with intense paranoia and fears for her life. She could get knocked down, she could have a bad fall and injure herself, she could even die.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Some days, she feels so miserable between pedaling and more pedaling that she only thinks about death. She heard someone say that if a Spaniard knocks you down, you\u2019re within your rights to report it and you could be offered citizenship, but she\u2019s not sure, it could be one of those rumors that run wild. She\u2019s also not entirely convinced she wants to stay in Spain forever, <\/span>hopefully not.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Her calves start to burn, and she pushes harder. <\/span>Let\u2019s go, dammit, almost there. <\/span><\/i>The straps of her backpack chafe her armpits, she has to find out how to secure it to her bike, like Cheo does.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She slams the brakes.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She touches the ground with her toes and gets off the bike. Something moves, something oozes out, she can feel it. <\/span>Shit, fucking cup. <\/span><\/i>She pulls her panties out of her crack, pretends that nothing has happened, maybe it is nothing.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She\u2019s hot, she can feel the damp between her breasts. Luckily, it\u2019s winter, it\u2019s only twelve degrees and, luckier still, the place is on the first floor and she doesn\u2019t have to go up any stairs. She puts the backpack down, carefully takes out the McDonald\u2019s bag and presses the buzzer. A guy opens. Hey! I\u2019ve got your order, Mari\u0301a Eugenia greets him, holding the bag out toward him. He looks at her, surprised. <\/span>Yeah, I know. I\u2019m not A\u0301lex, but I\u2019ve got your order just the same. <\/span><\/i>Thanks, he says and takes the bag.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She hopes he doesn\u2019t give her a bad rating because the account\u2019s ranking would go down and the schedule wouldn\u2019t open on time for her, she\u2019d end up without enough hours. She knows that she looks nothing like the person who, in theory, should be making the delivery, but that\u2019s the game. A\u0301lex is a friend who lets her use his account as long as she pays his freelancer fee. It\u2019s not bad, bearing in mind that many people who rent out their accounts don\u2019t just demand payment of the fee, but also take a cut of the rider\u2019s earnings. Enjoy, she says finally, as the guy nods and closes the door.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Mari\u0301a Eugenia turns the bike around, straps her backpack on again. She hasn\u2019t mounted her bike yet when the phone shrieks <\/span>bum-ba-da-da\u0301h-da da-da-da\u0301h-da. <\/span><\/i>The sound of money, of hunger. She checks where she has to go: a sushi restaurant.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

An aftershock of the primordial earthquake rocks her again. Anyone seeing her in that moment would know that something was wrong. She waits a few seconds for the pain to subside, like a wave rolling out, and then stands up. Getting on her bike, she notices a strange dampness in her underwear. She\u2019s still not used to the menstrual cup and has to adjust it several times before, like magic, everything seems to fit perfectly inside her and it doesn\u2019t leak. It\u2019s been five hours since she put it in and until now she hadn\u2019t felt anything. Maybe she can use the restroom in the sushi restaurant. She always goes to the McDonald\u2019s one as a last resort, when she can\u2019t hold it in any longer. With her period, it\u2019s more chaotic and she usually tries to go at home, or to work nearby so she can escape in case of a leak.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The sushi restaurant is a twelve-minute bike ride away. Google Maps shows more, but she\u2019s going to try to shorten the journey by taking different alleyways. She doesn\u2019t know what Google Maps was smoking when it designed its routes, but sometimes she only needed to go in a straight line to get to her destination. The app works against her. Better to memorize the names of the streets and bike paths.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The good thing about Carmel: going downhill. She cools down quickly in the breeze. Sometimes she gets scared and hits the brakes, but she usually enjoys it. She\u2019s on the flat once more and pedals calmly. She feels something ooze out again but can\u2019t check it, it\u2019s overflowing. Now she knows it\u2019s definitely blood; she feels the warmth filling her vulva. She knows when she\u2019s staining her clothes, though she can\u2019t explain how.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Fuck! At least my leggings are black, and my coat covers my ass. <\/span><\/i>She tries squeezing her vaginal muscles as if she could hold it in that way. When she reaches the sushi restaurant, there are two riders waiting, both sitting on the low wall by the entrance with their thermal bags on the ground. Mari\u0301a Eugenia leaves her bike and greets them, knocks on the restaurant\u2019s door. Hi, hello, I\u2019ve got this order, she shows her phone to the Asian woman who approaches. Okay, a few minutes, the woman responds. Mari\u0301a Eugenia can see them already putting some trays into a bag, presumably for the riders waiting outside. Hi, I\u2019m sorry, would it be possible to use the bathroom, please? It sounds like she\u2019s begging. The woman looks at her and shakes her head, sorry, love, it\u2019s not allowed. Okay, thank you.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She leaves the restaurant and stands by her bike, waiting. Right then, they hand two bags to one of the riders, an Indian or Pakistani, she can\u2019t tell. The other rider is rolling himself a cigarette. She sees it and it makes her want a smoke too, but then she\u2019d be thirsty, and her water bottle isn\u2019t that big. Plus, it\u2019s months since she last smoked, and it seems like this time she has finally quit for real. She feels like she can breathe better and that she\u2019s fitter, not to mention her ability to smell things that she used to miss.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She moves away to the corner of the restaurant and, trying not to be seen, puts her hand underneath her buttocks and pats the area. <\/span>I knew it. <\/span><\/i>It\u2019s damp. She looks at her fingers, they\u2019re lightly stained red. She smells them even though there is no need: yep, blood.<\/span><\/p>\n

Shitballs! Okay, last one then I\u2019m going home. This sucks, I smell like ass<\/span><\/i>. She grabs her water bottle and cleans her fingers. She doesn\u2019t have any more black panties, she\u2019ll have to do laundry, and from now until it dries, she won\u2019t have any option but to wear colored leggings, the ones she doesn\u2019t like because they irritate her inner thighs. She wants to sit on the low wall at the entrance to the restaurant, but the tiles are white, she would leave a mark. She shifts her body weight from one foot to the other. While she waits, she replies to some messages. Hola mami, I love you too. Yes, all good, working right now. Heart emoji, sunflower emoji. Yeah, it\u2019s near Sants, I\u2019ll send you the address later, thumbs up. Hahaha LMAO that killed me, crying-with-laughter face. Sara, can you turn on the hot water? I\u2019m coming home to shower coz I\u2019ve leaked. Injection emoji.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sara is one of her housemates, there are three of them: Mari\u0301a Eugenia, Sara, and Yunalivi. Yuna is at work and Sara is the only one at home because she works remotely. Sara is also the only one who has papers, the contract for the rent is in her name. She sublets the other two rooms because paying for an apartment on her own would be a real pain. Mari\u0301a Eugenia and Yuna pay three hundred euros each for their rooms, Sara puts in the rest. Mari\u0301a Eugenia isn\u2019t too sure what Sara does, but she does know that she earns good money, that it\u2019s something to do with numbers and codes, and that she\u2019s always sitting at the computer typing.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sure, Maru. Plugging it in now.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

They decided to unplug the boiler when they weren\u2019t using it to save on electricity. Sara has a thing about wasting electricity or water. She also forces them into rigorous recycling and has slowly convinced them to use solid shampoo; now the three of them share the same bar. The menstrual cup, of course, was also Sara\u2019s idea. She had fabric panty liners and period undies that absorb blood, but Mari\u0301a Eugenia didn\u2019t trust them. She was only giving the cup a trial and, look, it was already letting her down. Fuck, Maru, listen to me. Don\u2019t be afraid to really stick it up there, it\u2019s not going anywhere, she reassured her. It\u2019s got this stem for you to pull on. One thing though, you\u2019ve gotta break the vacuum in there, otherwise you could hurt yourself.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The first time that Maru put the cup in, she panicked. Then she couldn\u2019t feel the stem and thought that she would have to go to the walk-in clinic for them to take the cup out, but it turned out that she just wasn\u2019t used to sticking her fingers very far up. Tampax have a cord to pull on and you can avoid the rest of it, with the cup she needed to explore a little. Mari\u0301a Eugenia had put her fingers in and shoved; in that moment she thought that giving birth must be the worst and most painful thing in the world.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Babe, you\u2019ve gotta relax when you put it in. If you\u2019re all tense, it\u2019s not gonna open properly. Look, what I do is fold it like this or like that, Sara explained folding the cup like a U, and bam, in it goes. Then I put these fingers in and gently touch the base to see if it\u2019s flat, if you feel a little lump or something, it\u2019s still folded. If it irritates you or hurts, you can put a little lube on it, but you don\u2019t really need it, that\u2019s for pussies. A gut punch doubles her over, squeezes her swollen belly. The waitress comes out again and gives a yellow bag to the other rider. The guy throws his cigarette to the ground and gets on an electric scooter. The woman comes back straight away and gives her a package; Maru stores it in her bag and looks at the delivery address, which is only revealed once you have the order. She has to go to Carrer de l\u2019Arc de Sant Cristo\u0300fol, another fifteen minutes by bike.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She sits as comfortably as she can and without thinking too much about the stain spreading across her buttocks and inner thighs, she pedals. When she sees other riders, they greet each other, though she never feels truly comfortable because the vast majority of them are men. She has seen so few women that they all know each other.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It doesn\u2019t surprise her that female riders aren\u2019t very common. It\u2019s tough work, not just physically. She regularly encounters odious men who stare at her or find ways to make innuendos while she delivers their food. More than the customers, pedestrians or drivers are the worst of all. Alright love, enjoyin\u2019 yerself on yer bike? some idiot said to her once, licking his lips. He was with friends and all four of them laughed. The number of sexual comments she gets just for smiling while riding her bike is surprising: some people have such twisted minds. Enjoying her bike ride and showing it only provokes obscenities. Not to mention her fellow riders who mock her, exclaiming in a pack that she can\u2019t take more than five orders, at most, that she\u2019s not fit enough to make up to a hundred euros a day, like they do. She keeps silent and smiles, cursing them all under her breath. <\/span>Dickheads.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Like in many other jobs, it\u2019s not easy for her to be taken seriously. They all think that she does it as a side hustle, that she\u2019s not biking all day. <\/span>Well, they\u2019re wrong. <\/span><\/i>Hey, mamita, you\u2019re so tasty, topped off with that repulsive lip-biting and eyes that penetrate her. <\/span>Just what I needed. <\/span><\/i>Mari\u0301a Eugenia looks at the guy who is laughing and watching her from the sidewalk, grabbing his balls. She looks away, almost breathing fire. What she would really like to do is get off her bike, stick her fingers in her vagina and then wipe them across the face of that imbecile who is still shouting things at her. Force them into his mouth. <\/span>Take your mamita, that\u2019s tasty, huh? In your face, you toad. <\/span><\/i>The light changes and she moves on.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She is about to arrive when she feels that the reservoir of blood is now breaching its levee. She brakes in front of a narrow building with pretty little balconies, gets off the bike and notices the seat is stained. A darker patch than the black of the seat, shinier. She tries to stand up straight, but the pain in her belly doubles her over, she feels like a hunchback. She takes the order out of her backpack and approaches the entrance to the building. Before she can ring the bell, the door opens and a girl with curly hair appears. That\u2019s for me, thanks so much, the girl looks at her, surprised, of course, to see not A\u0301lex but a young woman looking pained. She smiles at her, and Mari\u0301a Eugenia returns the smile with the corners of her eyes. She grabs the bag and offers her some coins that Maru accepts with profound gratitude. Sometimes angels do exist, in the form of people who give a tip, or so she likes to think. Oh, thank you so much, she says. The young woman closes the door and leaves her there with her pain and her stain. She puts the two euros in her koala, or rin\u0303onera as she should call it here, and gets back on her bike. She doesn\u2019t think she\u2019ll accept another order, she\u2019s hurting, she\u2019s done. Her head is starting to pound.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

They\u2019ll probably lower her rating for not completing these peak hours, but she just can\u2019t; she needs to get changed, shower, throw herself into bed and cling to the covers. Now she will take an ibuprofen, because the pain is stronger than her money worries.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Only another fifteen minutes of movement before she can get home and give herself over to the task of relaxing, she no longer cares about the stain or if blood is still leaking. She managed to make forty-two euros in six hours. She can\u2019t do any more, she\u2019s not well today. Today she does believe the comments from her fellow riders: that she can\u2019t do it, that she\u2019s not fit or strong enough. <\/span>If only you all bled from your dicks and your balls hurt as much as my womb does, I\u2019d love to see you then. <\/span><\/i>The image brings her comfort.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She thinks about her parents and her younger brother, still on the other side of the Atlantic, hoping everything goes well for her and that she\u2019s able to save at least enough money to bring him over. The thought depresses her, she tries to get it out of her mind by thinking about other things, but a bitter taste remains in her mouth. <\/span>Today it\u2019s period pain, tomorrow what will it be? <\/span><\/i>One of her worst fears is getting sick: with no documents, no money, no insurance, and responsible for three lives that depend on her. She bites her lips to keep from crying. <\/span>I\u2019m hormonal, that\u2019s all. I\u2019m fine.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

***<\/span><\/p>\n

She finally reaches her street and as she opens the door to her building she feels the levee break, the great flood is coming. She goes up in the elevator to the fourth floor, opens the door to the apartment, and hears Sara typing at the computer. The hot water\u2019s ready for you, Maru, she shouts without looking away from the screen. Mari\u0301a Eugenia places her bike on the stand they got to avoid marking the walls. She leaves her backpack in the corner and takes off her shoes. She only wears socks or slippers at home, Sara\u2019s orders, of course. Thanks, Sara, you\u2019re the best. So, has there been a murder in your panties? A massacre.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She closes the bathroom door and takes off her socks, then her T-shirt, and finally her leggings and underwear. <\/span>Shit. <\/span><\/i>She forgot to put on dark underwear. These are beige and the whole ass is now dyed burgundy, she\u2019ll have to wring them out by hand in very cold water to remove the stains. At least the blood hasn\u2019t fully dried. She puts them to soak in the sink. Twisting, she spots the scab of blood on her ass. She turns on the shower and waits a few seconds for the water to heat up. She sticks her fingers in and takes out the cup, blood spills over her hand and down her wrist; the cup is full and now there are clots on the shower tiles and running down her thighs. She puts her head under the hot water and relaxes.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The water flows, cleans the ceramic shower tiles, white again now, sweeps away clots, blood, and with them her frustration at only earning forty-two euros. <\/span>Don\u2019t think about that, Maru. Tomorrow you\u2019ll make more money. <\/span><\/i>She closes her eyes and massages her stomach, her hips.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Bum-ba-da-da\u0301h-da da-da-da\u0301h-da, bum-ba-da-da\u0301h-da da-da-da\u0301h-da.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Fuck! <\/span><\/i>The goddam sound of money, of hunger. She\u2019d forgotten to cancel the last hour. Where did she leave her phone? Sara, reject the order pleaaaase! she shouts, half out of the shower. The music insists. Sara! she shouts again, more forcefully, this time holding on to the shower curtain while trying to open the bathroom door. She miscalculates and slips. Falls flat on her ass, taking with her the shower curtain and the metal shelf where they keep the shampoo, conditioner, soaps, razors, and a thousand other things.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Mari\u0301a Eugenia gives in; everything hits her all at once in an uncontrollable wave of emotions. She surrenders to the tears that are camouflaged in the water pounding her face.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The music stops and the bathroom door slowly opens.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sara discovers the wrinkled mass of curtain on the floor, the bathmat soaking up water, and the corpse of poor Mari\u0301a Eugenia sobbing under the flow. Are you okay? she whispers. Maru? she gets closer. No! I am not okay! Mari\u0301a Eugenia covers her face with her hands. She weeps.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sara can\u2019t help but chuckle, the scene is just too funny: Mari\u0301a Eugenia sprawled in the shower like a jellyfish on the shore, surrounded by conditioners, the shower curtain a shroud, the poor thing sobbing with her hair over her face. They look at each other and both break into fits of giggles. They laugh nonstop until the <\/span>bum-ba-da-da\u0301h-da da-da-da\u0301h-da, bum-ba-da-da\u0301h-da da-da-da\u0301h-da <\/span><\/i>pulls them back to the present again.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n


\nTranslated by Katie Brown<\/span><\/h5>\n
From Savagery <\/span><\/i>is available for preorder via <\/span>Restless Books<\/span><\/a>.<\/span><\/h5>\n

 <\/p>\n

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tCOMPRA LOS LIBROS DESTACADOS EN ESTE N\u00daMERO EN NUESTRA P\u00c1GINA DE BOOKSHOP<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Electric, defiant, and singing with melancholia, Alejandra Banca\u2019s devastating debut throws its arms around a displaced generation of young Venezuelan migrants, reveling in the clamor and beauty of their day-by-day survival.   Bum-Ba-Da-Da\u0301h-Da Da-Da-Da\u0301h-Da\u00a0 The cramp brings her to a dead stop. Feet flat on the asphalt, hands tightly gripping the handlebars. Her womb contracts […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":34764,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2893],"tags":[5020,5026],"genre":[],"pretext":[],"section":[],"translator":[2471],"lal_author":[4997],"class_list":["post-35113","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-adelantos-de-traduccion-y-novedades-editoriales","tag-issue-30-es","tag-numero-30-es","translator-katie-brown-es-2","lal_author-alejandra-banca-es"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35113","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=35113"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35113\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":35949,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35113\/revisions\/35949"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/34764"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=35113"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=35113"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=35113"},{"taxonomy":"genre","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/genre?post=35113"},{"taxonomy":"pretext","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pretext?post=35113"},{"taxonomy":"section","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/section?post=35113"},{"taxonomy":"translator","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/translator?post=35113"},{"taxonomy":"lal_author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/lal_author?post=35113"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}