La Banda de Los Hermanos

Detta är kapitel 1, eller ja, ett skelett/en grund till kapitel 1 av "Marcado de por vida", alltså det som kommer efter prologen ;) Som jag så fint döpt till "La banda de los hermanos" vilket ungefär betyder "The band of brothers", titeln har lite olika innebörder för resten av storyn.

Som vanligt, detta är inte det slutgiltiga resultatet. Det kommer göras om massvis med gånger så det kan finnas en hel del fel här i just nu. Jag lägger upp en bild på hur jag menar att de gör "djävulstecknet" det var då lite klurigt att beskriva med ord. Men enjoy!

It was evening and the members, homies, of the Mara Salvatrucha gang also known as MS-13, held a burial ceremony for my brother at one of the small funeral halls which belonged to a few priests who had decided to voluntarily take care of ceremonies like these.

For each death caused to/in this strange family of brothers and sisters the members hated their enemies more. After this night the number of murders would escalate, more blood would be spilled for what had been done to their homie. It was their duty to make the enemy pay for what he had done.

A ceremony like this was purely based on the respect for life and death. A member had sacrificed himself in order to save others. It was the most respected thing you could do for your gang.

Hardly being able to breathe in the overly hot and crowded room the homies put their clinched fists together side by side and with their index fingers pointing up in the air and let their hands rest in front of their foreheads making it look like they had horns. This was the infamous devil sign.

With mad faces they sobbed and grieved. Maybe some of them feared the day they would lie still in a place like this having their brothers and sisters remember them as a hero?

One after another they reached over the white coffin my brother had been put to rest in. It had a glass window for his face to be shown. The gang had walked around the neighborhood collecting money for the coffin, the rest of the money they had been able to raise they had tried to give to my grandmother as a “we are so sorry for your loss” present. You should have seen her face when they came to our house. My grandmother is in her late 70s but she's not afraid of anything. At the door she yelled at them:

“I ain't scare of all of you inked faces. I've lived through the civil war! There's nothing that scares me now-a-days!” And then added. “So get the HELL out of my house!”

With surprised faces they left with the few dollars they had collected. When she caught me laughing my eyes out in the kitchen she said with a mad look:

“And what are you laughing at you little sneak?!”

There's a lot of fire in my grandmother. When me and my brother were younger she used to ask what would happen to us if she wasn't around.

A young woman made her way to the coffin. I could tell she'd been crying for quiet some time because her eyes were all red. She leaned over the coffin while sobbing my brother's name. I guessed that was Victor's girlfriend Luna. He hadn't talked much about her but I knew enough to understand that must be her because none of the other women in the room sobbed like her.

Then a tall, normally built man stepped forward and placed himself in front of the coffin. It was their leader, ranflero, Diablo. All the noises died and everyone turned their attention to him.

My brother had died just before his 22^nd birthday. He'd spent most part of his teen years being a Mara, a member of the MS-13. Just a few days ago we had invented plans together. In the dim light of the bedside lamp we'd pictured ourselves going somewhere in the dark green Chevrolet Victor had inherited from our father. Together we would get away from El Salvador. Maybe as far as America. His words were simple:

“The world is just standing there right in front of us waiting for two men like you and me to discover it. There's nothing stopping us.”

Diablo cleared his throat.

“We all know why we're here tonight, to celebrate the death of a brother. A brother who gave his life to the gang so that the rest of us could walk freely. This kind of homie deserves our uttermost respect. May he rest in peace.” He ended his speech with the devils horn and in a choir they all chanted:

“For the Mara Salvatrucha.”

After this the ceremony was pretty much over. I made my way out of the room to get some fresh air. Something in me, like an instinct, told me I belonged to these “homies”. It felt weird. I was nothing like them. Sure, the weapons they carried and the free life they were living excited me. What twelve year old boy wouldn't find those things interesting?

“Small boy!” A voice behind me said. I almost shit my pants. Damn it, I was always such a day-dreamer.

“Yeah?” I turned around.

Diablo was staring at me from a few feet distance. His face was harsh and some parts of it was covered in large tattoos.

“You're Amarillo's brother, right?”

I nodded. I didn't dare to talk to this guy. He looked dead crazy.

“Come here.” He gestured with his hand for me to join him.

While moving my body in his direction I felt like I was walking towards my own death. Every part of me was stiffening. When I was close enough he put his arm around my shoulder.

“I'm glad you came little brother. Let's sit over here.” He walked me over to a bench on the other side of the small road.

“It must be hard for you.” He said when we had been seated. “Losing a brother when you're so young.”

I looked down at my hands resting on my knee. Suddenly I felt like crying. I hardly ever cry, it's not in my nature to but now I did. The tears just seemed to stream down my face without there being a stop to them.

“It's okay chico.”

“No it's not.” I sobbed sounding even more pathetic then when I was just keeping quiet crying.

“You know, I lost my brother too. I still remember how I felt about it.”

“Did you cry too?”

“I did. Off course. You should cry when a brother dies. It's normal.”

I wanted nothing more right now than to lie in my bed having my brother tell me one of his crazy stories of his life as a Mara.

“I'm just angry with why he had to die.” I began drying my wet cheeks with the back of my hands.

“I know chico.” He pulled me to him and embraced me. “It's okay.” He kissed my head then released his grip on me to look into my eyes. “If there's anything you need I'm here for you. You can come to me anytime you want chico. You're one of us now.”