La Secta del Cuchillo y el Coraje
Wednesday, May 04, 2016
¿Dónde estará (repito) el malevaje
que fundó en polvorientos callejones
de tierra o en perdidas poblaciones
la secta del cuchillo y el coraje?
El Tango - Jorge Luís Borges
The United States and Argentina in the 19th century both had fierce and warlike indigenous peoples. In both countries civilization had to spread west and those peoples were in the way. In both countries these natives were almost systematically killed to near extinction.
The epic work Martín Fierro by José Hernandez paints most of
these indios in bad light. But then the white man does not fair any better in Martín Fierro.
I have been thinking about Martín Fierro since I returned
from my two week trip to Buenos Aires in April. I have read a blow by blow analysis
of Martín Fierro by Jorge Luís Borges.
When I recently saw that very good film version by
Leopoldo Torre Nilsson I noticed two startling omissions in my comparison of
the USA and Argentina.
In the film you hardly ever see a firearm in the hands of
anybody, although we do know that Argentine Army used the rifle in its wars of
the interior. And the Indians are armed with long lances. I never saw a bow and
arrow. I did spot the boleadoara in the hands of a native. The natives would
shape rocks into little balls and wrap them in rawhide. Three balls would be
attached to three long leather thongs. One ball would be held in hand and the
other two were twirled around and then thrown at the man, the man’s horse, or
beast. On horseback the forward motion of the horse would add to the range of
80 or more yards according to Charles Darwin in his Voyage of the Beagle.
In short few Argentine Westerns have been made and the usual weapon of choice in those few has been the knife. Borges has written many poems and stories about the role of the knife in Argentina in the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th.
When I was around 10 I visited a large estancia in the
Province of Corrientes. One of the workers (peones, peh-óh-nes, and this word
is not deprecative in Spanish) had borrowed another’s mate (note no accent on
the e even though Darwin insisted on using it). The mate is a gourd and with a
silver straining straw to drink the herb also called mate is part of the necessary
equipment of the gaucho and this is usually as important as his facón or knife.
The two men decided to come to blows in a knife fight. I was not allowed to
watch. I found out that one of them died (never knew which one) and the other
had to leave for other parts to escape justice.
The concept of the knife as a manly weapon is in all
Argentine literature.
In my life there have been three knives close to me. One
of them, my mother’s Barrilito (a brand name) kitchen knife made in Mexico is currently being
professionally sharpened.
Displayed in my living room is the facón (a gaucho knife)
given to me by my sailors friends when I ended my stint in the Argentine Navy
in 1966. It is a beautiful weapon but it is a glorified bayonet. The other knife, the switch blade,
also has an Argentine story to it.
During my conscription I would visit my Tía Sarita (who
had been married to my mother’s brother Tony). I can never forget the address
to her downtown apartment. It was Larrea 1234. We would sit and chat and talk
of her son Jorge Wenceslao, my first cousin, who most of the time was in the
Province of Corrientes in the city of Goya.
Before I left I went to see her to say goodbye. She was a
serious woman and would always mention to me her communist leanings. She told
me that in my trip back to Mexico in an Argentine Merchant Marine ship I would
meet up with potential perils. She handed me a sevillana which is a switch
blade made in Spain. With it she handed me a little bottle of whale oil so that
the blade would open quickly. And for reading material she gave me a copy of
Nicolás Guillen’s Sóngoro Cosongo.
Edmundo Rivero and Astor Piazzolla interpret Jorge Luis Borges's poem El Tango from where I found those lines: La secta del cuchillo y el coraje or the sect of the knife and courage.
