In this general plan, there are two highly variable factors that could change things one way or the other. The first is money, which, for me, is not of primary importance, but it does cut short stays and modify itineraries, etc. The second and more important is the political situation.
MY POSITION IS IN NO WAY THAT OF A DILETTANTE, FULL OF HOT AIR AND NOTHING ELSE. I HAVE TAKEN A DEFINITE POSITION IN SUPPORT OF THE GUATEMALAN GOVERNMENT AND WITHIN IT, IN THE PGT GROUP, WHICH IS COMMUNIST. I ALSO HAVE CONNECTIONS WITH SOME INTELLECTUALS OF THOSE [SAME] LEANINGS WHO BRING OUT A MAGAZINE HERE, AND I WORK AS A DOCTOR IN THE UNIONS. THIS HAS PUT ME AT LOGGERHEADS WITH THE TOTALLY REACTIONARY MEDICAL COLLEGE. [Che’s emphasis] I can imagine everything you will have to say and remark upon at this point, but at least you can’t complain about me not being frank.
In the field of social medicine, and on the basis of my limited personal experience, I am working on a very pretentious book, which I think will take me two years’ work. It is called El función del médico en América Latina [The Role of the Doctor in Latin America] and, so far, I only have the general plan and the first two chapters written. I think that, with a bit of patience and methodicalness, I can say something good.
A fearless hug from your proletarian nephew.
Important P.S.: Tell me what you’re thinking of doing with the apartment and if it’s possible to send books for you to keep for me. Don’t worry, they aren’t incriminating.
Letter to Tita Infante
Guatemala City
March 1954
[Written on paper bearing the stamp of the Production Development Institute of Guatemala]
In spite of everything, my beloved Tita, we are growing old.
Almost a year has passed since I left, and I haven’t made much progress in anything, but I suppose you would like to hear about exotic adventures, so I’ll tell you about my projects, adventures and misfortunes.
First, please forgive me for not having replied earlier. Several things happened that prevented me; I wanted to send you a chronicle of Guatemala but didn’t have time; then I tried to track down a native writer who could do it for me, to publish somewhere over there, but that failed too, because the person who invented work came here to die many years ago. Still later, a magazine—I can’t remember its name—asked me to write about what is happening in Guatemala, and I thought about sending you a copy, but I haven’t written it yet and don’t think I’ll finish it soon, because I want to do it well.
I’m telling you all this because I think that Guatemala is a country that is worth knowing well and understanding thoroughly. I think that your fears are not unjustified, in view of the belligerent and, so far, victorious situation of the Republic. On March 1, in his annual message to Congress, President Árbenz announced in unequivocal terms that the Communist Party was cooperating with the government and that it was necessary for the government to defend the rights of the members of that political group against any kind of sanction.
In general, the communists are adopting a cautious position and, if it weren’t for the outcry that the national press has raised against “meddling by foreign doctrines,” they wouldn’t be noticed. But they are the only political group in Guatemala that has approached the government to fulfill a program in which personal interests play no part (although there may have been a demagogue among its leaders), in sharp contrast to the three other party groups, that are veritable nests of intrigues—to such an extent that each of them has split into at least two antagonistic wings—and are so shameless that they have entered into pacts with the opposition to obtain the presidency of Congress (there is only one chamber).
For your information, if you don’t know more about the problem than I do, the PGT [Guatemalan Workers’ Party] has a lot of influence in sections of the three other parties, through elements that have leftist tendencies and are willing to help in the complete socialization of Guatemala—a very difficult task because, among other reasons, there is not much human quality in the revolution (I especially refer to the intellectual meaning of the term).
This is a country with a typical agricultural economy that left the almost “orthodox” fetters of feudalism behind only recently and which has only one crop of any weight on the world market: coffee. It is not excessively pessimistic to say that a considerable drop in the price of that product will topple the government unless emergency measures are taken, and this is what will happen if there is an international boycott backed by the gringos. I think that Guatemala’s most difficult moment will come three years from now, when they must elect a new president. The names that are being tossed around don’t inspire confidence for continuing the revolution in its present magnificent form. If you’re interested and aren’t afraid that it will cause trouble for you there, I can send you some interesting publications, but I won’t send them until I hear from you.
I thought I’d write you using just one sheet of paper, because I’m in quite a dire financial position and another sheet will raise the postage by 10 centavos, but I’d like to know some things:
First, how are you doing as a student now, in March (and in all the months that will pass before you answer me), and what are your plans—or lack thereof? I’m asking this because, in your letter, you said you were in a desperate situation that was very romantic and dangerous. I advise you, if you want to be a fatalist then be one in the positive sense and don’t worry so much about the useless passing of the days or about failure of any kind; it’s hard to stop the days passing, and that is what you want to do when you lament them one by one. If you look one or two years back, you’ll see how much progress you’ve made. Forgive my doctoral tone.
Second, what about the members of your intellectual group and the magazine they founded, and what’s Paz [a mutual friend] doing and how is he?
Third, what’s Montenegro doing? I wrote him a letter, but he didn’t reply; then I wrote Dicstein, and he didn’t answer either, so I don’t know anything about the tiny group you knew there in the doctors’ den. When you decide to write me again, read my questions and answer them.
As for me, all of my efforts to work as a doctor have failed because of the inflexible spirit of the law, which was made to satisfy a group of oligarchs in all their prerogatives. They are the heirs of those who wanted the typically bourgeois revolution of ’44 and who are now determined not to let any of the spoils get away from them for anything. As for my circumstantial occupations, I have drawn close to your work, with terrible results for the statistics: 98 percent of the children have hookworms or other intestinal parasites. Moreover, I’ve tried to break the backs of the poor vinchucas (or Triatomas), looking for Trypanosoma cruzi and rangeli, which are also found in great numbers. That’s it as regards medicine.
Apart from that, I’ve done what I can not to starve to death, so that, in the end, I can deal the great blow. I think I’m going to Petén, a jungle area in Guatemala, hired as a nurse for a pittance, but I’ll get deep into the woods with the workers who extract chicle, gum and wood. It’s an area with a very old Mayan culture (Yucatán has a much more modern version of this “lost in the jungle”), and I’ll have a chance to study tropical diseases of all kinds there. All that is needed—here, something’s always needed—is for the union to agree to my appointment, since it’s an important post in the boss union game. I hope to convince them that I’m not as terrible a person as they imagine (because the owner recommended me), and, if things turn out all right, the mosquitoes will be alighting on my body within a fortnight, and I’ll be communing with Mother Nature once again. The only thing that saddens me a little is to think that if I had done the same thing in Venezuela, I’d have earned $800 instead of $125. It’s tough to have so little money!
Tita, I send you fraternal thoughts and await news through the same consular means. I hope your afflictions will end soon.
Until I see you again,
Ernesto
Letter to his mother
Guatemala
June 20,
1954
Dear vieja [old lady],
This letter will reach you a little after your birthday, which might pass a little uneasily on my account. Let me say there is nothing to fear at the moment, but the same cannot be said of the future, although personally I have the feeling that I’m inviolable (inviolable is not the word, perhaps my subconscious is playing a bad joke on me).
To paint a picture of the situation: For the first time, five or six days ago, a pirate aircraft from Honduras flew over Guatemala, but did nothing. The next day and on successive days they bombed several Guatemalan military installations, and two days ago a plane machine-gunned the lower neighborhoods of the city, killing a two-year-old child. The incident has served to unite all Guatemalans behind their government, and others who, like myself, have been drawn to the country.
Simultaneously, mercenary troops led by an ex-army colonel (dismissed from the army some time ago for treason) left Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, crossed the border, and have now penetrated quite deeply into Guatemalan territory. The government, proceeding with great caution to ensure that the United States cannot declare Guatemala the aggressor, has limited itself to protesting to Tegucigalpa and sending a full report of events to the UN Security Council, allowing the attacking forces to advance far enough that there would be no so-called border incidents. Colonel Árbenz certainly has guts; he’s prepared to die at his post if necessary. His latest speech only reaffirmed this fact, which everyone already knew, bringing a measure of calm. The danger does not come from the number of troops that have entered the country so far, as this is minimal, or from the planes that have done no more than bomb civilian homes and machine-gun people; the danger lies in how the gringos (in this case, the Yankees) manipulate their stooges at the United Nations, since even the vaguest of declarations would greatly benefit the attackers.
The Yankees have finally dropped the good-guy mask Roosevelt had adopted, and now commit atrocities everywhere. If things reach the extreme where it’s necessary to fight the planes and modern troops sent by the [United] Fruit Company or the United States, then a fight it will be. The people’s spirits are very high, and the shameful attacks, along with the lies in the international press, have united even those who are indifferent to the government. There is a real climate of struggle. I have been assigned to the emergency medical services and have also joined the youth brigades to receive military instruction for whatever comes next. I don’t think the tide will reach us, although we’ll see what happens after the Security Council meets, which I think is tomorrow. At any rate, by the time this letter reaches you, you’ll know what to expect in this regard.
For the rest, there’s nothing much new. As the Argentine embassy is currently not functioning, I’ve received no fresh news since a letter from Beatriz and another of yours last week.
I’m told that at any minute I’ll get the job at the health department, but the offices have been so busy with the commotion that it seems a little imprudent to hassle them about my little job when they’re busy with much more important things.
Well, vieja, I hope you had the happiest birthday possible after this troubled year. I’ll send news as soon as I can.
Chau
[Unsigned]
Letter to his mother
Mexico
November 1954
Vieja, my vieja,
[…] Even Beatriz is engaging in reprisals, and those telegrams she used to send no longer come.
To tell you about my life is to repeat myself because I’m not doing anything new. Photography is bringing in enough to live on and there is really no basis for believing I might be able to give it up anytime soon, although I’m working every morning as a researcher in two hospitals. I think the best thing for me would be to slip into an unofficial job as a country doctor, somewhere near the capital. This would make it easier to devote my time to medicine for a few months. I’m doing this because I’m perfectly aware of how much I learned about allergies with Pisani. Now I have compared notes with people who’ve studied in the United States, and who are no fools with regard to orthodox knowledge, I think that Pisani’s method is light years ahead. I want to get practical experience with the nuts and bolts of his systems so that I can land on my feet wherever that might be [...].
I’m slaving away here, busy every morning in the hospital and in the afternoons and Sundays I work as a photographer, while at night I study a bit. I think I mentioned I’m in a good apartment, I cook my own food and do everything myself, as well as bathing every day thanks to the unlimited supply of hot water.
As you can see, I’m changing in this aspect, but otherwise I’m the same because I don’t wash my clothes very often, and wash them badly when I do, and I still don’t earn enough to pay a laundry.
The scholarship is a dream I’ve given up on, as I had thought that in such a large country all you had to do was ask for something and it was done. You know that I have always been inclined to make drastic decisions, and here the pay is great. Everyone is lazy, but they don’t get in the way when other people get things done, so I’ve got a free rein either here or in the country where I might go next. Naturally, this doesn’t make me lose sight of my goal, which is Europe, where I’m planning to go no matter what happens.
As for the United States, I haven’t lost an ounce of hostility, but I do want to check out New York, at least. I’m not in the least worried about what might happen and know that I’ll leave just as anti-Yankee as when I arrive (that is if I do get in).
I’m happy that people are waking up a bit, although I don’t know what direction they are moving in. Anyway, the truth is that Argentina is as insular as you can get even though in general terms the picture we get from here seems to suggest that they are taking important steps forward and that the country will be perfectly able to defend itself from the crisis the Yankees are about to set off by dumping their surplus food […].
Communists don’t have your sense of friendship but, among themselves, it is the same or better than yours. I have seen this very clearly and, in the chaos of Guatemala after the government was overthrown and it was every man for himself, the communists maintained their faith and compañeroship and they constitute the only group that continued to work there. I think they deserve respect and sooner or later I’ll join the party. What mainly holds me back from doing so, for the moment, is that I’m desperate to travel around Europe and I couldn’t do this if I submitted to a rigid discipline.
Vieja, until Paris.
Letter to his mother
Mexico
[late 1954]
Vieja, my vieja,
It’s true, I’ve been too lazy, but the real guilty party, as always, is Don Dinero [Mr. Money]. Anyway, the end of this wretched financial year of 1954—part of which has treated me beautifully (like your face)—coincides with the end of my chronic hunger. I’m working as an editor at the Agencia Latina for 700 Mexican pesos a month (equivalent to 700 Argentine pesos), enough to live on with the added bonus that I work for only three hours, three days a week. I can therefore spend whole mornings at the hospital, where I am creating swellings using Pisani’s method. […]
I’m still working as a photographer, but also spending time on more important things, like “studying,” and some strange little things that pop up around the place. There’s not much left over, but this December I hope to round it out to 1,000 and, with a bit of luck, we’ll do a bit of photography at the end of the coming year (at the beginning, I meant to write). Contrary to what you might think, I’m no worse than the majority of photographers here, and the best among my compañeros, although yes, in this group you only need one eye to win the crown.
My immediate plans involve staying some six months or so in Mexico, which I find interesting and like a lot, and in this time apply, by the way, for a visa to visit “the children of the super power,” as Arévalo calls them. If I get it, I’ll go. If not, I’ll see what other concrete plans I can make. I haven’t abandoned the idea of sl
ipping behind the Iron Curtain to see what’s happening there. As you see, there’s nothing new since earlier reports.
I’m very enthusiastic about the scientific research, which I’m capitalizing on because it won’t last. I have two research projects on the run and may start on a third—all related to allergies—and very slowly I’m collecting material for a little book that will come to light (if ever) in a couple of years with the pretentious title, The Role of the Doctor in Latin America. I can speak with some authority on the subject, considering that, although I don’t know much about medicine, I do have Latin America sized up. Of course, apart from a general plan and three or four chapters, I’ve written nothing, but time is on my side.
With regard to the changes in my thinking, which is becoming sharper, I promise you that it will only be for a short time. What you are so afraid of can be reached in two ways: the positive one, when you convince someone directly, or the negative one, through disillusionment with everything. I came along the second path, only to be immediately convinced that it is essential to follow the first. The way that the gringos treat Latin America (remember that the gringos are Yankees) was making me feel increasingly indignant, but at the same time I studied the reasons for their actions and found a scientific explanation.
Then came Guatemala and everything that is difficult to recount. I saw how the object of one’s enthusiasm was diluted by what those gentlemen decided, how a new tale of red guilt and criminality was concocted, and how the same treacherous Guatemalans set about propagating the story to get a few crumbs from the table of the new order. I can’t tell you the precise moment I put reasoning aside and acquired something like faith, not even approximately, as the journey was long and there were many backward steps. […]
Letter to his mother
Mexico
September 24, 1955