Fatima: The Final Secret. Juan Moisés De La Serna

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СКАЧАТЬ myself, why someone could want to maintain the status quo, for everything to remain hidden, what incentives do they have? Above all though, who are they?

      To my mind, who would get me into that mess? I had a quiet student life, without any problems and with almost no responsibilities. Well, a normal student life, going to class, having a good time on vacation, studying a little, my sports and stuff like that. The outdoor activities were only possible weather permitting, because the rain where I’m from only affords us a few days to enjoy. I think that was what made me decide to change my interests, so that at least I was doing something to distract myself, something different, and then as time went by I also saw that it served a purpose.

      Of course, what started as a game, as a young university student, became increasingly serious. Such a long time ago, that first day when we went to that place they assigned us, with our faces painted with surprise over what we were going to start, something unknown at the time, but that we were about to discover. I remember we were commenting on the street:

      “We can try it, and if we don’t like it or it’s too boring, we can leave it and we won’t come back tomorrow. We can say we’re not well.”

      Our “Expert colleague,” as we called him, because he had been doing it last year, and it was he who was in charge, who took us to the place and who would teach us everything that we had to do, told us:

      “You won’t know what to say, you’ll be hooked on this, and when vacation is over and everything is finished, you’ll miss it. That’s what’s happened to all of us, and I’m sure it’ll happen to you too.”

      “Well, that may be the case for you, but I’m pretty sure I’ll get annoyed on the first nice day we get and I won’t come to work,” I answered laughing, and added softly, “I’ll go off and play soccer as always.”

      “We’ll see,” he said, “give it time and then we’ll talk.”

      “Tell us, where are you taking us?” we asked him several times, but he wouldn’t tell us anything other than:

      “Have some patience, we’re almost there,” and we continued walking in silence.

      We left the streets of Santiago behind, and surprised by our departure, we asked him again, but nothing, he insisted on not clarifying where he was taking us.

      Following our guide in single file, we directed our steps along a lonely path. We continued on toward the place that only that colleague knew. Coming out of a bend, we saw some ruins in the distance of what must once have been a house, but now it was already half-crumbled.

      “Here it is, we’ve arrived, let’s see how you behave,” Simón told us with a broad smile.

      “You’re kidding,” we said in surprise, “what are we going to do with those ruins, rebuild something?”

      “Of course, otherwise why else do you think we’d come here? We’ll try to repair this place as best we can, so it doesn’t collapse and they can spend the winter here without getting wet.”

      He was saying this to us very seriously and we all stared first at him and then at what was left of that building.

      “Wait, what are you saying? If we don’t have a clue what we’re doing, what are you expecting from us?” we’d stopped to tell him, because we were astonished.

      “Well, that’s what I’m here for, to show you whatever you need,” he said smiling to reassure us. “You’ll see how nice we leave it. Have a little faith. Come on, let’s continue.”

      Just as we were arriving at the place, a very old lady, all dressed in black, came out from the half-crumbled ruins of the house, and seeing our companion, she threw her arms around him.

      “Son, what a joy, I thought it was a joke when you told us the other day that you would come with friends of yours to lend a hand,” and she started crying.

      “Don’t worry Mam, everything will be fine, you’ll see how beautiful we leave the house, and Sir? How is he today?” and without waiting for a reply, he went inside the house.

      “Thank you boys, we can’t pay you, but God will surely do that, He knows how much we need these repairs,” the old woman was telling us, standing there in front of her door.

      Wiping the tears from her face with the corner of her apron, she turned around and said:

      “Come in, come in.”

      She went into the house, and we all followed.

      “I can’t offer you anything,” she said, and there was concern in her tone of voice.

      “Don’t worry, we’ve had a good breakfast before coming, besides, we’re here to help you,” I said putting my hand on her shoulder trying to reassure her.

      I looked at those half-crumbling walls and thought, “How can there be people living in these conditions? Is there not a more decent place where they can be moved to?”

      As if reading my thoughts, she answered me with a tone of deep sadness:

      “No son, there is nothing we can do, only hold on while the body endures, between these four walls, and thanks be to God that we have them. Others are worse off than we are and don’t even have a roof to shelter under when it rains or when the cold comes.”

      I looked up at it and then I stared at the ceiling, or rather, the place where it should be, because now the sky was visible through parts of it, and other parts only consisted of very old planks, which in their better days would have held something that now no longer exists, possibly some kind of roofing tile.

      Addressing the youth who was closest, she asked:

      “Where are you going to start? How can I help you? Tell me what I have to do.”

      “Nana, take it easy and you’ll see how nicely we leave everything,” said Jorge with a smile, “you just get on with your things, as if we weren’t here. We’ll try not to disturb you too much.”

      I didn’t know how he could say that, I mean, what could we do there? Where would we get the material we needed? And most surprisingly, having never done it before, how would we students place a single brick without it falling on us?

      Well, we only had to wait a short time to see the results, which at that moment seemed so difficult to achieve.

      We were there all summer. I think it was the best spent vacation time of my entire life. Working, with calloused hands, hauling earth, bricks, cement and the material that we were accumulating and using piece by piece until we rebuilt that little house with our own hands.

      When we saw it finished, none of us could believe it. We had put all our enthusiasm into it, and we were truly proud of what we’d achieved.

      It seemed that as the work progressed, it was taking years off the two people who lived there. They helped us with the eagerness of a pair of youngsters. We had to reprimand them so they wouldn’t carry so much. They apologized to us, telling us that they couldn’t stand by idle, watching us rebuild their beloved little house. A house that, back in their day, they had built themselves, so many years ago that they almost couldn’t remember how many, but that the passage of time had been responsible for ruining, one little flaw at a time.

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