A partial translation of Un Kilo de Oro by Rodolfo Walsh, accompanied by an exploration of the translation techniques employed.

Introduction

Rodolfo Walsh was born in 1927 in Lamarque, Argentina. Prior to his death at the hands of the military junta of Jorge Videla in 1977, Walsh was one of the most influential Argentine writers of his generation. He is credited with exposing the abuses of successive military governments in his works of investigative journalism, particularly Operación Masacre (1957), ¿Quién Mató a Rosendo? (1969), and El Caso Satanovsky (1973). In his early years, Walsh was known as a writer of short stories, however during the government of General Pedro Aramburu, he became increasingly politicised. During his active involvement with the Montoneros movement he produced some of his most well known work, it was also then that he became increasingly concerned with social justice and its manifestation in Argentine literature. Indeed he was a proponent of the Argentine literary genre of no ficción (see Castillo. C, 2003).

Although not a feature of his investigative journalism, in his fiction Walsh was very much concerned with the continuing urbanisation of rural Argentina and as a result, the transformation of Argentine society. What is of particular interest to this paper is Walsh’s collection of short stories Un Kilo de Oro (1967). Un Kilo de Oro was written when Walsh was at his most politically active and elements of his social realism are rife throughout. It contains 4 short stories: Cartas, Los Oficios Terrestres, Nota al Pie, and Un Kilo de Oro. I have carried out translations of extracts from two of the above: Los Oficios Terrestres and Cartas. These have been chosen because of their frequent references to issues of social change and identity in Argentina, which pose substantial issues and difficulties from a translator’s perspective.

1.      Los Oficios Terrestres

Los Oficios Terrestres or, In Service of the Land, tells the story of Dashwood and El Gato, two young boys in a Catholic boarding school in the province of Buenos Aires in 1939. Not only is it a fascinating insight into what may be an autobiographical account of Walsh’s own childhood, but the story of the two boys’ conflicted relationship with the Catholic Church reflects the collective identity crisis which struck Argentina at the time of the Second World War. From the point of view of a translator, the main difficulty is of cultural transferral and how to translate terms related to religion for a broad readership of English speakers. For example how best to domesticate the target text for readers whose religious experience derives from the Anglo-Saxon tradition, namely speakers of British and American English. Conversely we must also account for the problem that an overly domesticated target text may cause if a particular target readership sees a translation as pertaining to Anglo value systems, such as for speakers of Hiberno-English.

Much of the literature I have reviewed in the build up to this paper gives conflicting arguments on how best to translate religious terms. Lynne Long (2005) is a proponent of a strongly formal approach to bible translation. She maintains that to deviate from the source text in any way not only jeopardises meaning, but betrays the cultural heritage of an institution upon which many societies are based. Indeed Long believes that in some cases the ‘principal of intelligibility’ should be sacrificed for ‘doctrinal reasons’[1].

Eugene Nida’s (see Long. L, 2005) method of dynamic equivalence has become widely accepted and adopted in the bible translation community and certainly his principal of translation as a communicative activity have had a greater influence on my translation.

2.      Cartas

In my second extract, I have chosen to translate segments from the first 12 pages of Cartas or Cards. Cartas tells the story of the Tolosa family as they resist against changes which are being implemented by the government on their farm, a move which is supported by the Catholic Church. Before discussing translation, I should first explain that Cartas does not employ a first person narrative. Walsh frequently reverts to a ‘stream of consciousness’ narrative[2] which has proven extremely difficult to translate. Frequent changes of register and voice are common and there is a complete absence of quotation marks during dialogue.

The story takes place in Maipú in the province of Buenos Aires at the turn of the 20^th century. As with much of Walsh’s literature, the relationship between the people and the land is central. Jacinto Tolosa, the central figure, is portrayed as almost physically inseparable from the land he farms. What is of particular interest to this paper is the references to land and rural life in Cartas. Much of the terminology borrows heavily from the Anglo-Saxon influence on rural Argentina, a legacy of its complex colonial past and economic dependence on Britain. Although Argentina was a Spanish colony, large numbers of its citizens claim British ancestry (see Howat. J, 2008) and many British agricultural norms were adopted there. Again, as with Los Oficios Terrestres, the issue of foreignisation arises. Are readers who feel that a translated text smacks of the variety of language of the former colonial power likely to reject it? This has very little to do with the negotiability of readers in former colonies, but rather because a response to a translation will always be ethnocentric, as outlined by David Katan (2009). It would be inaccurate to describe Irish society as in postcolonial stage, but its historical and cultural context should be taken into account when discussing how to translate a story which was written by one of the most prolific writers of the Irish diaspora.

Through my translation, and by analysing both texts, employing the theories of Eugene Nida, Lynne Long, David Katan and Jeremy Munday, I intend to establish a concrete framework to be used when translating the work of Rodolfo Walsh. Furthermore, by comparing the results of my investigation with those of a similar investigation on the translation of postcolonial literature in North Africa carried out by Lawrence Venuti, I hope to formulate a conclusion on the cultural independence of Argentine literature at the time Un Kilo de Oro was written.

References to religion in Los Oficios Terrestres

When discussing religious references in Un Kilo de Oro and their translatability, the main question to ask is what has influenced Argentine Spanish more? The cultural capital of Catholicism or, as I suspect, borrowings from the strong Anglo-Saxon tradition which exists in Argentina?

Certain terms present little difficulty and are easily translated for those versed in the terminology of Christianity, be it Catholic or Protestant:

S.T.	T.T.
Pero estás eran preguntas que sólo el padre Ham podía responder, y no respondió p.55	But these were questions that only Father Ham could answer, and he never would.
Era el día siguiente al de Corpus Christi, el año 1939… p.53	The following day was Corpus Christi 1939...

With the exception of the capitalisation of the title Father in the target text, this does not present us with any great difficulty[3]. Similarly the feast of Corpus Christi is a well recognised feast in all Christian traditions and its translation does not provide much difficulty.

In the following translations, Walsh refers to the Society of Sisters of San Jose, the religious order which was responsible for the education of Dashwood and Gato. I had some difficulty finding a text which described any religious order of nuns as Damas, and even fewer examples existed whereby nuns were referred to as ladies, the closest English translation of the word.

S.T.	T.T.
…en los fondos del campo que la caritativa Sociedad de Damas de San José nunca se resignaba a vender… p.54	...the fields that the charitable Society of Sisters of San José could never quite bring themselves to sell.
La caritativa Sociedad nos amaba… p.54	The Society loved us...
Pero el amor existió, y de ahí que las Damas en persona vinieran a celebrar con nosotros el día del Cuerpo de Cristo, trayendo consigo el auténtico obispo Usher… p.54	Their love always prevailed, and on that day the Sisters came in person to celebrate with us the feast of Corpus Christi, bringing with them Bishop Usher.

The society of Hermanas de San José certainly does exist, however with a pragmatic interpretation of the cultural context in which Los Oficios Terrestres was written, it should be clear to most readers that Walsh is describing a religious order of nuns. The fact that the story takes place in a boarding school run by nuns, also makes the use of Sister contextually acceptable to an English speaking readership. The context of Los Oficios Terrestres provides more distinction of meaning than the word itself, a key feature of the dynamic approach to translation. By recognising the ethnocentric reaction which most English speaking cultures will have to a story about a Catholic boarding school, Sisters becomes a viable translation. As Katan stated:

‘Hence, meaning is not ‘carried’ by the language but is negotiated between readers from within their own contexts of culture.’ (Katan, D. 2009. P. 75)

The following are two translations in Los Oficios Terrestres which refer to worship or religious traditions:

S.T.	T.T.
…después de la misa y la escuálida ceremonia del café con leche tibio en el tazón de lata… p.53	After mass came the squalid ceremony of coffee with warm milk...
…vestidos de azul dominical… p.55	...which were usually reserved for Sunday mass...

In the above examples, the choice of available vocabulary is limited. Depending on the nationality of the intended readership, la misa can be either translated as mass or church. In my translation I have opted for the former. Both terms are culturally loaded with what Long (2003) referred to as ‘indigenous referents’ which are culture specific and cannot be ignored. 

However in this case Walsh’s writing must be analysed as a communicative activity as opposed to a religious text, and the negotiability of the intended readership should also be taken into account. Walsh himself was of Catholic ethnicity and so too are the characters in the story. The use of the term mass is neither archaic nor is it mutually unintelligible in different varieties of English. Also, to refer to the period of time on a Sunday in most Christian faiths devoted to worship as church is generally associated with the North American Protestant tradition. When considering that the readership of this translation may be Irish or British, the following translation seems highly foreignised, and particularly out of place with the many references to Catholic symbolism and traditions which are rife throughout Un Kilo de Oro:

S.T.	T.T.
…después de la misa y la escuálida ceremonia del café con leche tibio en el tazón de lata… p.53	After church came the squalid ceremony of coffee with warm milk...
…vestidos de azul dominical… p.55	...which were usually reserved for Sunday church...

Long’s writing on religious translation is not to be entirely discounted when discussing a translation of Los Oficios Terrestres. She is particularly concerned with the legacy of colonialism in religious translation. She states that certain cultures are likely to associate a foreignising translation with colonialism and reject it. While an accurate translation of religious terms certainly avoids this, the unique cultural setting of Un Kilo de Oro should be taken into account when discussing the danger of mistranslating an Argentine text. This will be discussed in greater detail in the following chapter, with reference to the translation of Cartas.

References to land and rural Argentina in Cartas

Los Oficios Terrestres takes place in 1939, itself a very important period of recent Argentine history. Unlike Cartas however, Los Oficios Terrestres is ostensibly apolitical or at least less ideologically challenging to the reader. It makes very little reference to external factors in the lives of the young boys[4]. In Cartas, the government has expropriated a large part of the Tolosa family farm and there is a constant power struggle between her father, the government overseer and Father Trelles. Jacinto Tolosa is reluctant to implement the changes requested by the overseer, who is supported by the church.

In the following examples, the morphological complexity of the term in question in the source text, capataz, posed some difficulty:

S.T.	T.T.
Ya anochecido apareció el capataz por la avenida de aromos… p. 9	At dusk the overseer came walking up the path of aromos.
El capataz esperaba en la puerta visteando la luz, y Tolosa que llamara a Cipriano porque le iba a dar las cuentas. p. 10	The overseer ordered Tolosa to call Cipriano because he was going to give him the accounts. Tolosa stood up.

Walsh refers to the government representative on the farm as el capataz. There are many potentially acceptable translations for this term. Capataz in Iberian Spanish generally denotes a figure of authority or someone in charge. It could be translated as boss, manager, chief etc. However when we look at the context of the story, translation becomes more problematic. The capataz has been sent by the government to implement a series of changes on the farm which are against the wishes of the Tolosa family. In order to accurately represent the morphological complexity of capataz, we must translate it at the macro level of semantic meaning. i.e. we must assess the role of the individual.

His presence is certainly not wanted and in many ways the friction between him and Jacinto Tolosa is allegorical of the difficult transition rural Argentina found itself in at the time. Moreover as he has been sent to supervise the changes in the farm, there is a perceived malice in his intent which certain, more neutral terms, do not adequately communicate. As such I have decided on overseer as the most accurate translation. Not only does it satisfy the communicative requirements of capataz, but it also recognises the morphological complexity of the term in the source text.

Overseer is both technically and contextually correct. It conveys the image of an ominous figure and certainly when viewed in the context of the era of land seizures, and the zeal with which he enforces the sweeping changes on the farm, it is also accurate. Again, recognising the ethnocentric value of overseer in the English language, the cognitive and socio-cultural value of the source text has been applied to the target text.

In the previous chapter I referred to the legacy of colonialism on translation and the problems it can cause in the translation of a text such as Un Kilo de Oro. Walsh was of Irish ethnicity and came from a staunchly Catholic background, yet much of his writing is influenced by the Anglo-Saxon literary tradition (see Paletta, V. 2007). There is a great deal of evidence of this influence in Cartas, which poses the question, how does one avoid alienating certain English speaking readers, such as speakers of Hiberno-English, and simultaneously produce a satisfactory translation which transfers the cultural references of the source text?

As in Los Oficios Terrestres, references to place, objects and people borrow heavily from English. In the examples below, we see the use of English language terms which are unlikely to be recognised by speakers of most varieties of Spanish:

S.T.	T.T.
…alcance en el escritorio donde estaban las cosas: el recado de plata y las muestras de cereales, el Winchester, el plano del campo y fotos amarillas de viejos toros con grandes sexos en el blanco cegador de las paredes. p. 10	It was full of old farm antiquities; a box of silver and samples of cereal, the Winchester, the map of the region, and photos of well endowed bulls in the white shade of the farm walls.

It is difficult to ascertain if terms such as Winchester are recognisable to speakers of Argentine Spanish[5], however we can assume the lack of elaboration in the source text means that a certain amount of prior knowledge was expected. Although I am eager to avoid any alienation of a specific readership by using overly foreign terms, I am also forced to consider the pragmatic perspective of the term. Winchester could even be considered a foreign or unfamiliar term to most speakers of Argentine-Spanish, yet Walsh decided to leave it as such, as opposed to referring to it as el fusil Winchester. Moreover an Irish colloquial equivalent, such as double barrel does not transfer the same image of grandeur and eloquence which Winchester does. Furthermore the image of a Winchester rifle hanging on a wall says a great deal about the status of the Tolosa family. In this example, by opting for a literal translation, we are assuming the negotiability of the target readership, a pillar of Munday’s (2009) belief that translation must be viewed as a communicative, as opposed to linguistic, activity.

Below is an extract from the dialogue between Jacinto Tolosa, Father Trelles and the director of the bank:

S.T.	T.T.
Cuando llegué aquí, no había ni alambrados. Tuve que pelear una barbaridad para que me reconocieran títulos, mojones. p. 11	When I arrived here, the fields were not even fenced. I had to fight tooth and nail just to have my deed to the land and my boundaries recognised.

I have employed an extremely dynamic approach to the terms referring to Jacinto Tolosa’s farm.  In the first example, I find that by using the passive form of the verb fence, the target text reinforces the relationship between Jacinto and his land. The fact that the passive voice is not used in Spanish does not make its use in the target text inappropriate. It merely serves the communicative needs of the source text, ultimately producing a more natural translation. Moreover fence is mutually intelligible to all varieties of English.

The second half of this segment requires a more technical and perhaps culture specific translation. Although Jacinto Tolosa does not elaborate on what his titles allow him, it is clear from the context of the story that he believes they give him ownership of the land. Deed is certainly the closest English equivalent although it is not necessarily synonymous with farmland, as such I felt it necessary to add to the land as a description. In its simplest form, mojón refers to a stone used to mark the end of a farmer’s land. Although many English language equivalents may exist, I was unable to find a translation which could be deemed mutually intelligible to all varieties of English. As such a more technical translation was needed.

Conclusion

Based on the above exploration, a concrete consensus on how best to translate the works of Rodolfo Walsh is difficult to achieve. By employing Nida and Katan’s functional approach to religious and postcolonial translation, it has been possible to transpose certain terms while maintaining source text referents and the cultural capital which they carry, for example in my translation of terminology related to land. However, although in stark contrast to Nida and Katan’s approach, Long’s strict form of linguistic translation has proven to be a very accurate method when translating religious terminology, whereby the range of available cognate vocabulary in the target text is limited.

            Anglicisms are numerous in Un Kilo de Oro. Indeed their frequency in all of the works of Rodolfo Walsh leaves us in no doubt as to the influence British settlement and economic involvement in Argentina has left on Argentine-Spanish. It would, however, be inaccurate to suggest that there is a cultural dependency on the Anglo-Saxon tradition or a dependence on British culture in Argentine literature. In a study carried out by Lawrence Venuti (1992), it was claimed that the gallicisation of Arabic texts translated from French, showed a clear cultural dependence on the former colonial power. Venuti believed that the aim of translators to elevate the Arabic narrative ‘to the level of its Western counterpart’ reflected a cultural inferiority complex in former colonies such as Algeria and Tunisia. While Venuti’s claim that southern languages and cultures are ‘deeply affected by [...] hegemonic northern languages and cultures’ (Venuti, L. P. 139) may hold true and there are traces of colonial influence in Un Kilo de Oro, I do not believe it was Walsh’s aim to foreignise his text for Argentine readers, rather reflects the influence the Anglo-Saxon literary tradition had on him. Moreover, such an elitist posture would be in stark contrast with Walsh’s socialist egalitarian convictions, epitomised in his personal mantra: The typewriter is a weapon (Phelan, S. 2013).

Los Oficios Terrestres

En la más temprana y cenicienta luz del mes de junio, después de la misa y la escuálida ceremonia del café con leche tibio en el tazón de lata que mantenía con vida al pueblo todas las mañanas, el cajón de la basura se alzaba tan alto, poderoso y pleno en la leñera, detrás de la cocina y frente al campo, que el pequeño Dashwood empezó a bailotear y patear el suelo e incluso las tablas del cajón en un ataque torrencial de furia mientras gritaba ‘Me cago en mi madre’, cosa que al fin multiplicó su dolor, cólera y vergüenza, porque amaba a su madre por encima de todas las cosas y la extrañaba cada, cada noche cuando se acostaba entre las sábanas heladas oyendo lejanos trenes que volvían a su casa y lo partían en dos, una mano acariciante y un lloroso cuerpo defraudado.

            Pero el Gato meramente ladeó la boca, prendió un pucho y apoyó el largo cuerpo contra la pared, vigilándose con una ambigua sonrisa que resbaló sobre el pequeño Dashwood como un pincel pintándolo amarillo de burla y desprecio y desquite largamente postergado,

            Era el día siguiente al de Corpus Christi, el año 1939, cuando como es sabido el sol se alzó sin obstáculos ni interrupciones a partir de las 6.59, cosa que ellos no vieron, ni les importaba, ni resultaba creíble, porque esa luz enferma yacía desparramada sobre los campos en jirones lechosos o flotaba entre los árboles en espectros y penitentes de niebla.

            En amaneceres más claros, un horizonte de vascos lecheros, negros, ágiles y vociferantes detrás de las grandes vacas y su aterida cría, se recortaba contra el cielo en los fondos del campo que la caritativa Sociedad de Damas de San José nunca se resignaba a vender –aunque cada año recibía una oferta más ventajosa –porque en su centro se alzaba alto y desnudo el edificio que ellas mismas construyeron en los años diez para colegio de pupilos descendientes de irlandeses.

            La caritativa Sociedad nos amaba, un poco abstractamente es cierto, pero eso es porque nosotros éramos muchos, indiferenciados y grises, nuestros padres anónimos y dispersos, y en fin, porque nadie sino ella pagaba por nosotros. Pero el amor existió, y de ahí que las Damas en persona vinieran a celebrar con nosotros el día del Cuerpo de Cristo, trayendo consigo el auténtico obispo Usher, que era un hombre santo, gordo y violeta, y ojalá siga siéndolo si no fue sometido contra su voluntad a una de esas raras calamidades que ocurren justamente a cada muerte de un obispo.

            El obispo Usher celebró los oficios divinos y después gozamos un día de afecto casi personal con las Damas, que se desparramaron por el edificio como una banda de cotorras alegres y parlanchinas, queriendo ver todo al mismo tiempo, acariciando tiernamente la cabeza más pelirroja o más rubia y haciendo preguntas extrañas, verbigracia quién construyó el palacio de Emania en qué siglo y qué ocurrió finalmente a Brian Boru por rezar de espaldas al combate. Curiosidad que originó ese pintoresco pareado de Mullahy, que conocía las reglas del arte poética:

            Oh Brian Boru

            I shit on you!

            Pero estás eran preguntas que sólo el padre Ham podía responder, y no respondió, mientras se ponía cada vez más colorado y sus ojos perforaban su propia máscara de sonriente compromiso, disparando sobre nosotros una oscura promesa de justicia que vendría apenas las Damas dejaran de ser tan encantadoramente tontas y entrometidas, es decir mañana, queridos hijos míos. Aquellas piadosas señoras, sin embargo, no tomaron nuestra ignorancia a mal, sino como excusable condición de nuestra tierna edad. Y apenas Ham restableció su prestigio demostrando que alguno de nosotros podía sumar quebrados en el pizarrón, ellas recordaron que la fiesta era de guardar, y declarándose enteramente satisfechas de nuestra educación, propusieron suspender la clase, a lo que el padre Ham accedió en seguida aunque sin apagar los fuegos de la mirada: esa pequeña peste de fastidio puesta en cada ojo. Salimos, pues, vestidos de azul dominical, al patio de piedra cuyos muros crecían altos hacía el cielo, y jugamos al ainenti y la bolita bajo la mirada cariñosa de las Damas hasta que llegó la hora del almuerzo y entramos en fila al comedor donde dimos gracias al Señor por éstos tus dones y nos sentamos a las mesas de mármol.

            Allí ocurrió el milagro.

El primero que entró encabezando el equipo de seis que servía las mesas fue Dolan, con una bandeja de asado tan enorme que apenas podía sostenerla, y detrás de él vinieron los otros con nuevas bandejas de asado y montañas de ensalada de porotos, y ya Dolan sacerdote de hecatombes regresaba más cargado que antes con los brazos más abiertos como dibujando un himno de victoria.

Nos refregábamos los ojos. Allí había comida para mantenernos con vida una semana según los criterios comunes. De modo que empezamos a comer y comer y comer, e incluso el celador que llamábamos la Morsa traicionó en la cara un trasluz de escondido jolgorio mientras nos miraba hundir los dientes en la carne que chorreaba su tibia grasa dorada sobre cada extática sonrisa.

In the service of the land

It was in the earliest and brightest light of the month of June. After mass came the squalid ceremony of coffee with warm milk, a ceremony which stirred the hive of the town every morning. The crate of the bin was too high and sturdy for Dashwood to climb up on. In the woodshed, between the kitchen and the field, little Dashwood began to kick and scream and hit the sides of the crate in a fit of anger, all the while screaming ‘Motherfucker!’ which in ultimately made his pain worse because it made him think of his mother whom he loved more than anything. Every night he thought about her as he lay between the frozen sheets of his bed. In the distance he could hear the sound of trains returning to their homes, a sound in which he found both comfort and grief.

Gato barely reacted to little Dashwood’s outburst. Lowering his jaw, he lit the stub of a cigarette and rested his wiry frame against the wall, throwing Dashwood an ambiguous smile of contempt and subdued anger.

The following day was Corpus Christi 1939, a day when it is said that the sun rose uninterrupted from 6.59 am, a detail which was lost on the two boys. Nor did its legend seem credible because the light of the sun was always dispersed over the land in white strips or else between the trees as fog.

On clearer mornings the horizon was full of grazing cattle and their cries which could be heard throughout the province. They occupied the fields that the charitable Society of Sisters of San José could never quite bring themselves to sell, despite the fact that each year an ever-more generous offer was made. They were bound by sentiment rather than vocation. The land housed the shell of a building which they themselves erected in the years before 1910 to educate the children of Irish descendants.

The Society loved us, albeit with some estrangement. There were so many of us, indifferent and grey. Our parents were unknown to them but in the end, were it not for the Society, we would have gone hungry. Their love always prevailed, and on that day the Sisters came in person to celebrate with us the feast of Corpus Christi, bringing with them Bishop Usher. He was an very holy man, stout with red cheeks and we were constantly led to fear for his health.

Bishop Usher celebrated the Liturgy of the Hours and afterwards we were treated to a personal day with the Sisters where we were free to run amuck around the building. We explored wings from which we were restricted before, asking the Sisters the most obscure questions: ‘Who built the Palace of Emania? What happened to Brian Boru at the Battle of Clontarf?’ Our interest in the Irish warrior stemmed from hearing Mullahy’s unusual but catchy Engish rhyme:

            Oh Brian Boru

            I shit on you!

But these were questions that only Father Ham could answer, and he never would. Each time he would simply blush and the look in his eyes betrayed the look of veiled innocence that his face put on, darting a vague promise of retribution that not even the Sisters could protect us from. The compassionate Sisters did not take our ignorance as malice, rather as an excusable condition of our tender age. Ham had a simple way to avoid our questions: distract us by exposing our ineptitude at multiplying fractions, but today the Sisters insisted that the traditions of the feast be upheld and, declaring themselves fully satisfied with our competency in arithmetic, suspended all classes. Even Ham was forced to accept the freedom afforded us by Corpus Christi, nevertheless we felt the weight of his dead stare, intruding on our precious free time. We went out wearing our blue tunics usually, reserved for Sunday mass, to the walled courtyard where we played ainenti and marbles under the watchful eye of the Sisters. At lunchtime we entered the dining hall where we thanked God for his gifts and sat at the marble table.

That was when the miracle happened.

The first to enter of the six servers was Dolan with a tray of steak so big he could barely hold it. The others followed with more trays of steak and mountains of bean salad. Dolan, a truly disastrous priest, returned immediately with even more and with his arms outstretched as if to proclaim a great victory.

We rubbed our eyes in disbelief. Compared to our normal diet, there was enough food to keep us going for a week. We began to eat all around us, to such an extent that the watchman, whom we had nicknamed the Walrus, even offered us a hint of a smile, watching as we gaily sank our teeth into the meat that oozed its warm fat over each ecstatic smile.

Cartas

Cuando su papá vendió el forte, compró el forá, Estela se hizo pis en la cama. Su madre la dejó sin postre y estuvo fruncida todo el día. Estela andaba por los rincones dibujando con el dedo en las paredes y de tanto en tanto la miraba pero ella seguía fruncida y la tarde se alargó sin que su papá viniera a sacarla de su amargura. Detrás del vidrio y la cortina de cretona las nubes se volvieron doradas, rosadas. Salió a la galería. Ya anochecido apareció el capataz por la avenida de aromos y después, al tranco, los peones que largaron los caballos, encendieron un candil en el fondo del galpón y sacaron baldes a la bomba.

Al fin lo vio venir, desensillar junto a la segunda casuarina, una sombra más oscura dentro de la sombra. Caspio resoplaba bajo el chorro de la manguera y la voz del hombre: Tungo. Quieto, mierda.

Estela aguardaba con un llanto congelado listo para disolverse, pero él no la alzó en brazos como otras veces. Le acarició la cabeza al pasar, Hola, pichona, y entró rápido en la sala donde su madre cerró la novela, puso la mejilla y

-Supongo que ya te habrá contado, pero Jacinto Tolosa no quería que le contaran nada y Estela se escurrió tras él resbalando contra los muebles, los ojos desafiantes clavados en su madre hasta que una corta carrera la puso fuera de su alcance en el escritorio donde estaban las cosas: el recado de plata y las muestras de cereales, el Winchester, el plano del campo y fotos amarillas deviejos toros con grandes sexos en el blanco cegador de las paredes. El capataz esperaba en la puerta visteando la luz, y Tolosa que llamara a Cipriano porque le iba a dar las cuentas. Y el hombre alto y oscuro:

            -Bueno patrón, y por qué. Para que aprendiera a ser chambón y lujoso, quebrarle dos terneros en una semana, y que no le saliera con que ese caballo era duro de boca. Firma el recibo.

-Por mí, no hay necesidad.

-Pone una cruz, entonces, y Cipriano se agachó, firmó con una cruz y guardó los cuarenta pesos en el tirador.

-Mamá es mala -dijo Estela.

El la aupó en las rodillas y le dijo todas las cosas que Estela quería oír. El domingo saldrían a dar la primera vuelta en el auto nuevo y nadie era tan bueno como su papá aunque hubiera echado a Cipriano que una vez la llevó a pasear en la rastra por el alfalfar. Pero es que a uno nadie le regaló nada, padre. Yo no compré el campo a mil pesos la legua ni le cambié a los indios una tropa de caballos blancos por medio partido de Maipú. Esos eran tiempos, puro ordago. He tardado mucho en comprender que el autor de mis días, que en paz descanse, era un tarambana. El 89 fue para él el año de la desgracia: nací yo y vino la Crisis.

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Página 11.

El cura Trelles tomó delicadamente el naipe con el pulgar y el dedo medio y lo hizo subir y bajar en una cascada de monos motociclistas.

 -Era un hombre sin fe.

 Tolosa volvió a reír y se guiñó mentalmente un ojo, mirando la mandíbula de hierro, el pelo

ceniciento cortado al rape, la formidable vida concentrada en los ojos y en las manos. ¿Cómo se hace para reunir ese poder? La fe, sin duda. Si las malas lenguas no mentían, el cura Trelles era el autor del más encarnizado acto de fe en la historia de la Iglesia.

-Usted no comprende, padre. Cuando llegué aquí, no había ni alambrados. Tuve que pelear una barbaridad para que me reconocieran títulos, mojones. Primera y única vez que me sirvió la profesión.

-La verdad, doctor -interpretó el gerente del Banco-, uno no entiende por qué uno se mete en un rincón como éste.

-Tal vez usted no entienda, Bianucci, porque se mueve con papeles, ficciones al fin. Y además usted no se mete, lo mandan. Pero uno lleva la tierra adentro de la sangre.

-Eso es cierto -dijo pensativo el mayor, que tomaba su vermú a tragos muy pequeños y picaba de un platito: a cada berberecho una frase corta y hondamente meditada.

-El país -un berberecho-, el país sólo empieza a comprenderse -otro berberecho- en el campo.

Cards

When her dad sold the wagon he bought the car. It was then that Estela began to wet the bed. Her mother stayed angry with her for the whole day and sent her to bed without dessert. Estela circled the room, tracing shapes on the wall with her finger. Every so often her mother looked at her but her disappointment never let up. The evening dragged on as she waited for her father to come and coax her out of her sulk. Outside the window and the cretonne curtains the clouds grew yellow and then red. She walked to the porch. At dusk the overseer came walking up the path of aromos. Behind him the workmen trudged through the yard with, leading their horses by the bridle. They lit an oil lamp in the shed before carrying their buckets to the pump.

At last she saw him coming. He dismounted next to the second casuarina tree, casting a deeper shadow within that of the tree. Caspio slurped water from the hose, ignoring the grunts of the overseer: Tungo, be still. Shit

Estela waited for him, holding in a great sob, ready to be released upon his arrival, only this time he didn’t lift her up in his arms like before, merely patting her on the head as he passed. -Hey squirt, he said as he walked quickly into the living room to her mother. Upon which she put away her book, turned her cheek and said:

-I suppose he’ll have told you by now, but Jacinto Tolosa didn’t want to be told anything. Estela scurried past him, falling over the furniture in the living room. Her brazen eyes were fixed on her mother until she ran out of her reach into the study. It was full of old farm antiquities; a box of silver, samples of cereal, the Winchester, a map of the region, and photos of well endowed bulls in the white shade of the farm walls. The overseer waited in the doorway holding the lamp. He ordered Tolosa to call Cipriano. He was to be given the accounts. Cipriano stood up.

-Ok boss, but why? So that I can learn to be a materialistic jerk, to break in two calves in a week without difficulty?

-Sign the invoice.

-I don’t need to.

-Sign with a cross then. Cipriano gave in, marking the page with a cross, still holding the 40 pesos in his hand.

-Mamá is mean, said Estela.

Jacinto lifted her onto his knee and told her all of the things she wanted to hear. On Sunday they would go for a ride in the new car and that nobody was as nice to her as her dad, even though he had once taken Cipriano to rake the field without her.

-But no one is given anything for free, father. I didn’t buy my land for a thousand pesos a field, nor did I give the Indians a herd of horses in exchange for half the province of Maipú. Those were truly great days. It took me quite a while, however, to understand that my father, who always seemed so calm, was in fact a crackpot. 1889 was a difficult year for him, I was born and the Crisis began.

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Page 11.

Father Trelles held his card delicately between his thumb and middle finger, waving it up and down like a fan.

-He was a man without faith.

Tolosa began to smile and instinctively winked, observing Father Trelles’ iron jaw and cropped grey hair, his hands and eyes told the story of a formidable existence. How does one consolidate this power? Faith, of course. If the rumours were true, Father Trelles was the perpetrator of one of the bloodiest acts of faith carried out in the history of the Church.

-You don’t understand, father. When I arrived here, the fields were not even fenced. I had to fight tooth and nail just to have my deed to the land and my boundaries recognised. It was the first and only time my profession was of any use.

-To be honest, doctor –exclaimed the director of the Bank- I can’t understand why anyone would get involved in this mess.

-Perhaps you don’t understand, Bianucci, because you deal in figures and statistics, and what’s more you didn’t involve yourself, you were sent. Can’t you see that the land runs in our blood?

-This is true, reflected Father Trelles as he sipped his vermouth and ate what was left on his plate. He spoke between sips, yet it appeared that he meditated on every word: You can only begin to understand –a sip- You can only begin to understand this country –another sip- when you go to the provinces.

Bibliography

Castillo, C. 2003. Yo acuso. Rodolfo Walsh y los años oscuros de la Argentina. Universidad Nacional de Mar del Plata.

Howat, J. (2014). An indexed collection of records from Argentina documenting the presence of thousands of British and other English-speaking residents there. [online] Argbrit.org. Available at: http://www.argbrit.org/ [Accessed 28 Apr. 2014].

Katan, D. (2009). Translation as Intercultural Communication. In: J. Munday, ed., The Routledge Companion to Translation Studies, 1st ed. New York: Routledge, pp.74-84.

Leonard, T. and Bratzel, J. (2007). Latin America during World War II. 1st ed. Lanham (Md.): Rowman & Littlefield.

Long, L. (2005). Translation and Religion: Holy Untranslatable?. 1st ed. Cromwell Press, pp.90-95.

Paletta, V. 2007. El primer Walsh: el género policial como laboratorio. Anales de Literatura Hispanoamericana, 36 (0210-4547).

Phelan, S. 2013. Rodolfo Walsh and the Struggle for Argentina. Boston Review, 28th October.

Venuti, L. (1992). Rethinking translation. 1st ed. London: Routledge, pp. 139-143.

Walsh, R. (2008). Un Kilo de Oro. 5th ed. Buenos Aires: Ediciones de la Flor, pp.9-12, 53-56.

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[1] Long is proponent of a linguistic as opposed to a cultural translation of the bible:

‘It must be recognised that people read the bible not as literature, but as an authoritative religious text and as a practical guide to life.’ (Long. L, 2003. P.94)

[2] In the preface to Un Kilo de Oro, Ricardo Piglia references the influence James Joyce had on Walsh’s writing:

‘Walsh construye un universe joyceano, una suerte de microscópico Ulises rural, mezclando voces y fragmentos que se cruzan y circulan en una complejísima narración oral.’

[3] It is very likely that the term Padre is already recognisable to most English speaking audiences due to its extensive use as a form of linguistic decoration in North American cinema, however to use it in the target text as its original form is very likely to alienate certain readerships.

[4] Indeed the timeframe in which Los Oficios Terrestres is set was a hugely important period in Argentine history. Relations with Germany, a traditional ally, were severed and the years of political turmoil which led to the coming to power of Juan Perón began (see Leonard, T et al. 2007).

[5] The only available online corpora of Argentine-Spanish which could be found was restricted to students enrolled in the University of Hamburg.