I remember the lady of braids and hat of fiber, very rural, who was about 60 years or more, that walked down the main street in their husband's company. Also that girl of adjusted clothes, combed up to fashion, sometimes with dark glasses, strolling in moto with her boyfriend. The llaneros greet with "What-is-there-for-making?" as well as do we greet "How-it-was?", the chocoanos did hit the table with domino pieces, discussing loudly when somebody did cheat. The paisa girls dressed very up to fashion, they lived with their families at big homes, with relatives in Medellín that they visited them from time to time, they did take advantage and armed their business right ahead. Everything in the same road, in the same neighborhood(e30).
The sands of the streets entered everywhere, they stuck in the shoes, in the socks, in any thing that you dropped in the street. The torrential winter rains, the summer fleeting sparks and the sun, always the sun, inclement on the heads, the napes, the faces, the hats. The same that emptied the streets at noon. It forced all to stay at home or to stay in the restaurant, for not to toast and to resist the heaviness.
All those that arrive by air go through Bogotá or Villavicencio. Those that we passed by the cold from Bogotá felt the first days the hot air hit to the body and the humidity of the atmosphere, still pursuing us under the shade. It shoulded to take a bath twice a day, until getting used. There is who never make it and they continue taking a bath twice and even more. The colonists small children get skin and lung diseases more easily than the natives'. At least that was what I saw; the medical statistics are scarce and they remained outside of my reach.
The powder rises with each car that passes by and it looks like fog in the night. Every time that somebody burns garbage smoke of unknown substances is liberated, nobody knows wich lung will be the stop. With the humidity they don't only grow plants. There are 7 or 8 species of insects fighting for our blood! The toldillo(e31) is indispensable to be able to sleep in the Guaviare area, but in the other rivers there is so many mosquitos as in the Cali dry areas. In the Inírida River, only to scarce centimeters of the bank everyone feel the quantity of mosquitos, mosquitas and gnats chopping the human back. Ah, skilled insects! It seems that they knew what are you looking for, because they itch exactly where they cannot be seen. The inhabitants complain about those phoruculous that come out where no one expect. Humidity turns the skin very prone to infections and "to scratch bad an itchy" is serious thing. I saw more than one walking strange for that cause.
In the mestizo from Bogotá I knew racism, expressed in ironies toward the black or calling them dirty or noisy, always in their absence. In all the other, I only saw a jeer desire, with pastusos jokes and black chambimbe's, but in a way that could change target and to make fun of anyone, as of some "horned saints" that they appeared somewhere around.
Gossips go, gossips come and among them it was said that there were many infaithful in Inírida. Almost everybody is empaired by free union and the Colombian is not distinguished exactly for his fidelity. The Church is very respected, the marriage not. In the indigenous communities the single mothers are very strange, in Inírida are now frequent.
The population's growth has brought the same social pathologies of the great city. It was already spoken of youths that met every night in the dance places only to get into trouble. Two or three, very gifted for graphic arts, they consumed marijuana in a discreet way and everybody knew who they were. They were distinguished for their beard and scruffy aspect. I heard, among murmurs that some thought about give them "a fright" to discourage them. The roots of the social cleaning arrive far, very far(e32).
One of the hairy ones, Humberto Amaya, he writes "The Columnist", the "dear and wonderful" iniridenses' newspaper. He is its owner, founder, editor, graphic chief and only salesperson. It untied subtle and shameless ironies in leaves with letterhead, each one of different institution. He took charge of making read their humorous and popular style in all and each one of the offices. He came from Arauca to pure oar, he wrote in national publications, he was praised by German critics and lately he wanted to promote a song of his authory. He finished even in jail for tell him the truth in the face to the regional procurator!
It passes the same thing as in Cali, where the recyclers can lose their life for make what everybody should make. That one that restitute the garbage in merchandise, that see in what you throw away a hope, only receives your scorn or your indifference. Perhaps in Inírida the treasure is very visible.
There is also "the bacán", a brown one high and thin. They called him this way because he calls to everybody «hey, bacán!». He is seen in the drinking troughs, in the streets, in the meetings. All they know him for his boldness and for his big voice. Once it arose the rumor that he took three days without appearing and some already gave him for dead. But suddenly he left from nowhere without notice, with a dog of three days, such as "The Columnist" counted it. God willing the town never loses the value of life, grandiose and riotous, that we already lost.
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