EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
The call floated to Annie while she worked in her garden one June day. But what was
\nit? She was used to people walking the street shouting out the different items they
\nhad for sale. She could buy charcoal, ladders, tables, chairs, umbrellas, potatoes,
\nflowers, tarps, milk, tamales, even casserole dishes. But this didn’t sound like any of
\nthose. The cry came again, from somewhere along the top of the hill.<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
Annie stopped her weeding and sat still, trying to calm her heartbeat. The little boy
\nnext door had dashed into his house, screaming for his mother. Apparently he had never
\nheard this call before either. Annie understood the boy’s reaction. Usually she could
\nguess at the words being shouted out, but this was not really a word. It sounded more
\nlike the type of noise a ghost might make. Loud and long on the first syllable, soft
\nand short for the second, and with a drawn out third syllable that lingered sadly in
\nthe air. It was definitely out of place on a sunny summer afternoon. Annie imagined a
\nlonely wandering spirit, searching for something lost long ago.<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
Whoever or whatever was calling was now coming downhill on Annie’s street. She wanted
\nto see it, but she simply could not make herself get up and go to the gate. She had a
\ngood view of a section of the street through her neighbor’s yard. That would be close
\nenough, just in case. Laughing nervously at herself, Annie sat quietly in the grass and
\nwaited.<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
Suddenly there he was: a small old man carrying a rolled up reed mat on his left
\nshoulder.The heavy mat was about six feet long and would be nearly that wide when flat.
\nA petate…..pEH tAH tEH, of course. Annie laughed again at her overactive imagination.
\nNothing to fear from a petate salesman. She went back to her work, wondering how far
\nthe man had walked that day and if he would be able to sell his petate. They had once
\nbeen used in nearly every home as sleeping mats, as protection from the rain when in
\nthe fields, even as roofing material. Smaller ones were good for padding the backs of
\nmules or donkeys when they were being ridden or were carrying loads. But now the fat
\nreeds used were quickly disappearing, and so were the craftsmen who knew how to stitch
\nthe reeds together. People these days thought owning a petate was old-fashioned, even
\nembarrassing. Annie slept on one herself and her back had never felt better, but she
\ndid not know anyone else in the town who had one.<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
“It sounded just like that and I was actually spooked until I saw the old man.” Annie
\nwas telling her husband about the afternoon. “Where do you suppose he came from? Do you
\nthink he was able to sell the petate? It wouldn’t hurt for us to get a new one…..I
\nwish I had thought of that while he was still around! Do you think he’ll ever come back
\nthis way?”
\nEmiliano never knew for sure how to answer these strings of questions Annie threw at
\nhim, but this time it was easy. “I don’t know, I don’t know, and I don’t know.”
\nAnnie laughed. “I’m sorry. I did it again, didn’t I?”
\n“Yes. You do have a habit of asking questions that I cannot answer. But I think I can
\nfind out something about him next week. I want to ride the bike out towards San V. That
\nis where I found the petate we have now. I can ask around, maybe this old man is the
\nsame one I bought from. But tell me again….how did it sound? It might help me track
\nhim down.”
\nAnnie saw the twinkle in Emiliano’s eye. “I don’t think you need to know that to find
\nthe old man, but since I like saying it anyway, here goes:”<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
Life being the way it is, Emiliano was not able to ride his bike to San V until nearly
\ntwo months later, and he returned with a sad story.
\n“It turns out that the old man you saw WAS the one who sold me the petate. But they
\nsay he is dead now.”
\n“Dead? But…but…what happened?”
\n“I don’t know. There was a man standing in the plaza and I described our friend to
\nhim and said I hoped to buy another petate. But he said that the old man had died and
\nthat there was only one petate maker left in the village. He told me how to find him,
\nand I went to visit, hoping that maybe the man in the plaza was not thinking of the
\nsame old man. But this other petate maker was younger, and the mat he showed me was not
\nas carefully made as the one from our man. So I thanked him for his time, said that
\nI might come back some other day, and I came home. I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”
\nAnnie did not struggle against her tears. In a way she knew it was silly to cry over
\nan old man she had never met; a man she had seen only that one time and then just for a
\nmoment while he walked down the hill. But she had never forgotten the haunting call
\nthat had made her picture a ghost looking for something lost. The old man had lived
\nlong enough to see his craft unappreciated, his traditions forgotten, his world changed
\nforever. He had become the sad lonely ghost of Annie’s imagination. So how could Annie
\nstop herself from crying over all the endings this one man’s passing represented?
\nEmiliano did not say a word. He simply held her close and let her cry.<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
Annie was on a ladder pruning the old rose tree when she heard the call. She froze
\nand listened intently. Had that really been the petate man? How could that be? Emiliano
\nhad been told a year ago that the old man had died! Could there be another man selling
\npetates? But if so, he would not have the same tones in his call. Every vendor walking
\nthe streets had a different way to advertise his goods: if six people were selling the
\nsame item, each one would have a slightly different delivery. Annie regularly bought
\ntamales from a father and son team, and she could always tell which of the two was
\ncoming up the hill because the son only shouted, but the father could have been onstage
\nsinging an aria. Yet this call, faint as it had been, had sounded exactly like the man
\nwho was supposed to be dead.
\nAnnie waited but no other call came. She must have heard some kids playing or a yell
\nfrom a party far away, or even Emiliano playing a trick on her. Nope, she told herself
\nas she started to snip roses again, no way could it have been…..<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
Louder!! And closer!! Annie dropped her pruning shears, stumbled down from the ladder
\nand hurried into the house to find Emiliano with his earphones on, deep in his computer
\nworld and surprised to see her so agitated.
\n“You didn’t hear it?” Annie could only whisper.
\n“Hear what?”
\n“The petate man’s ghost is walking the street!”
\n“What are you talking about?”
\n“I heard the call….twice! And the second time it was closer! He’s coming this way!”
\nAnnie turned and was outside before Emiliano could unplug himself from the computer.
\nWhen he got out onto the patio, she was standing against the brick wall overlooking the
\nstreet, staring downhill, tension showing in every muscle. Emiliano went over to stand
\nquietly beside her, not sure what to do, but wanting to be nearby.
\nFive minutes passed with no unusual sounds. Annie relaxed a little, leaning against
\nEmiliano’s shoulder, thinking once again that she had been mistaken.<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
Down the hill and to the left, about half a block from the corner where their street
\nmet the main road through town. Annie held her breath. Ghost or man, they would see him
\nin just a few minutes. She clutched Emiliano’s hand.
\n“Is this really happening or are we dreaming?”
\n“This is Mexico, Annie. Anything can happen here.”
\nAnnie was silent, staring down the hill, waiting to see what would turn the corner. If
\nit had been November, she might have not been bothered by the idea of a ghost. On The
\nDay Of The Dead, all the ancestors returned to their former homes to pay a friendly
\nvisit. But this was June, a wonderful summer morning, and here she was waiting to see a
\nghost! She gripped Emiliano’s hand even harder.<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
“Look, look!! There he is! But is he real? Is he a man or a spirit? How can we tell?”
\nThe vision turned up the hill. A small old man dressed in dark work clothes, with a
\nrolled up petate on his head. He began the long climb, steadying the reed mat with both
\nhands.
\n“Do you think he will fade away before he gets up this far?”
\n“Pay close attention now so you can decide if this is the same man you saw last year.
\nThen if he does disappear, at least we will know for certain who it was.”
\n“I only saw him from the back that day. If you want to go tell him to turn around, be
\nmy guest. But I think it would be rude to talk to a ghost that way.”
\n“But wouldn’t it be just as rude to ask a real man to turn around? Why should you be
\nmore worried about being polite to a spirit?”
\n“Do you really have to ask such a question? Remember all the ghost stories that you
\nsaid your grandfather told you? Of course you have to be extra polite to a ghost or
\nthey will haunt you forever!”
\nEmiliano could not keep from laughing at the bizarre conversation they were having. At
\nfirst Annie looked at him with daggers in her eyes, then she began to giggle. But
\nbefore she could say anything else, the call came once again.<\/p>\n
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!!<\/p>\n
All the dogs in the neighborhood began to bark. The little black dog right next door,
\nbeing the closest to the source of the cry, was practically screaming she was so mad.
\nOr afraid….Annie was not sure which.
\nHe was closer now. They could see his old huaraches, his wrinkled brown face, and gaps
\nfrom missing teeth when he suddenly smiled at them both. Emiliano leaned over the wall
\nwith a big smile in return.
\n“Good afternoon, my friend! Where are you coming from?”
\n“Oh, I have been to the pueblo of San M….there was a fiesta there today!”
\n“Good! But you are from San V, aren’t you?”
\n“Yes, of course. You have been there yourself, you know.”
\n“Yes, I have. And weren’t you the man who sold me a petate once?”
\n“Yes, of course!”
\nAnnie couldn’t stand it anymore. Rude or not, she had to know. “But last year they
\ntold my husband that you were dead! You…..you aren’t dead…..are you?”
\n“Well, no. I am fairly sure that I am not dead. What do you think?” He slid the petate
\nfrom his head to the street, stretched his right arm up to offer a handshake and
\nlaughed when Annie took his warm hand with a cry of joy.
\n“I am now also fairly sure you are not dead. I am so happy to know that! And….and I
\nwould like to buy this petate!”
\nEmiliano invited the old man (whose name turned out to be Antonio) into the house
\nfor some cool lemonade while Annie got the money for the petate. He told Antonio all
\nabout his visit to San V and the news he had received there.
\n“Yes, I know the man you are talking about. He is a big liar. But he is dead now.” He
\nlaughed when he saw the surprise on Emiliano’s face. “Of course, I am only joking, my
\nfriend.”
\nAnnie came in then with the money so Emiliano decided not to say anything. But he had
\nseen a spark in Antonio’s eye that made him wonder what would happen when this tough
\nold man got back to San V and found the big liar.
\nThey said their good-byes with more handshakes all around; and while watching Antonio
\nwalk lightly back down the street, Annie began to cry.
\n“Our friend the petate men is alive and well, Annie…..no need for tears.”
\n“These are happy tears…..because he is alive and well.”
\nEmiliano did not say another word. He just held Annie close and let her cry.<\/p>\n
Copyright Debbie Zapata ~~ July 6,2014<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! EH ~~~ AH ~~~ EH!! The call floated to Annie while she worked in her garden one June day. ButTour Details<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[46],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5972","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","category-thousand-and-one-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5972","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5972"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5972\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7682,"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5972\/revisions\/7682"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5972"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5972"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/avoriginal.org\/dzx\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5972"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}