Photo of the Week presents      

Photo of the Week 274


photo of this weeks photo of the week
Photo: Maarten Zeehandelaar

The town sighs languidly as another siesta sets in on a surprisingly cool afternoon. Lunches have been eaten and no one ventures outside anymore. Grandpa nods in his rocking chair, a half-smoked cigar on the terracotta floor tiles. Doña Martha quietly taking down the sheets from the washing lines over the patio, folding them all by herself. The bakery downstairs closed until four. The souvenir shop, as always, open. But young Isabel and her chewing gum dozing off behind the counter. I should be so lucky.

I am not, however. No longer am I allowed to sleep, or even enjoy some quiet time, during siesta hours. Not since Doña Imelda left to care for her sister. She really should have stayed home to care for Ramon, her son. He just got out of the hospital with a leg broken in two places in a motorcycle accident. Instead, she took off to her sister, and left him in the care of his American girlfriend.

As if she could, take care of him, I mean. Do I see her in Don Juan’s grocery store? Do I smell her cooking like I could Doña Imelda’s? Do I see laundry hanging out to dry? Why I believe she doesn’t even change the sheets on his bed. And that is the only place she does take care of him. It seems all she knows is to take advantage of a man when he’s down, so as to satisfy her own sinful needs.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not against all that, you know, a man and a woman, or even woman experiencing pleasure – there was a time when I myself, well, but still, never that loud!

Really, for all the neighbourhood to hear, it is such an embarrassment. I tell you, all the English I know, I have learned from her, but I will die a thousand deaths before I dare use any of it when I should talk to an Englishman or an American. I bet you Ramon is lying there, just dying with shame.

But what can he do? He has to bare it. If only Doña Imelda knew what her house has become, what it becomes, e-ve-ry after-noon. She’d be back faster than a falling star racing through the night. Luckily for Ramon, that I thought of a way to help him. When I confront them with this recording, they can no longer ignore the shame she brings upon his mother’s house. Then he will have some leverage to silence her, or else he will just not let her get to him anymore. And I will get my rest back.

Text by: Peter-Jan Vermeij

Until the next Photo of the Week!

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