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.”

Prólogo (=Prolog)

Nu har jag gjort mitt skrivande på MARCADO DE POR VIDA för idag (?). Än så länge i alla fall. Mitt huvud dunkar från all reggaeton musik och allt intensivt stirrande på dataskärmen. Usch mina ögon! Jag har lagt till lite grejer på vissa kapitel så att de blir lite längre, förhoppningsvis ännu längre med tiden. Sist ut blev att fortsätta med min prolog. Här är den som den ser ut för tillfället.


Karaktärer: (Namnen med "" är deras gängnamn.)
Ángel "Chico" Martínez (huvudkaraktär)
Victor "Amarillo" Martínez (Ángels storebror, MS13 medlem)

PRÓLOGO

“Run Ángel!” My brother yelled.
“But...” I stuttered like a little baby. I felt my heart pounding faster and faster, wouldn't it burst out of my body soon?
“Look at me, chico.” He put his hand under my chin, it was warm, loving and his eyes filled with a constant worry. There was sweat on his forehead and from time to time he looked in another direction.
“Just run. Run as fast as you can. And don't look back, okay?”
He didn't hug me, just put his hand up in the air and I did the same and we both formed our hands as a devil's horn.
“Hermanos para siempre.” He said.
“Hermanos para siempre...” Brothers forever.
He took out his handgun from the pocket of his pants and gave me a push.

I started running and while I did I repeated Victor's words in my head and on my lips. I whispered them as I ran away from the alley where we'd been hiding. Hermanos para siempre. It has been all my idea. Victor had disagreed to it but I had nagged about it all morning and eventually he'd shouted:
“Fine! But it's not my fault if you get shot.”
It wasn't really allowed. But Victor had said that his leader, El Maquina, had already approved of me as a sympathizer, someone who was in, let's say, a quarantine, waiting for the day when he could join.
Having succeeded with my nagging I had managed to go a “look out” with my brother not too far from where we lived. My brother's gang, the Mara Salvatrucha, ruled in our neighborhood but from time to time they had to go on look out's in order to prevent the chavalas, the enemy, from entering their territory.

Because of the morning's route Victor had been appointed to keep an eye on he didn't think it would be at all dangerous for me to come along. But of course, he was so wrong.
I looked over my shoulder to see if my brother was still there. He was sitting knee-bent in the dark alley looking in the opposite direction. Then the rain begun to poor down on the people of El Salvador. I ran too fast and accidentally lost my left shoe. I tried to keep the same pace as before but failed and eventually I kicked off the right shoe to be able to run faster. I stumped into a puddle of water and that's when I heard them, the shots aimed to kill. I stopped as if I'd been put on pause in a video game. It felt as if I'd lost my breathe. I knew right then what those bullets had done without looking.

Even if I shouldn't have I turned to glance who the man pulling his trigger was. He stared at me with harsh eyes. Everything around me just stopped existing. All but those eyes. It felt like we stared at each other for hours. The man's face was mostly covered with a white and blue scarf – the colors of El Salvador. I shifted my gaze to the gun in his hands. Surprisingly he didn't point it at me. Instead he turned his back on me and ran away. When he was out of my sight I ran back to my brother.
“Victor?” I bent down next to him. His wet clothes were painted in red.
“Tu eres loco chico!” He growled. (=You're crazy boy!)
“Qué?” (=What?)
He grabbed my shirt with his bloody hand.
“I told you to run! Didn't I?” The rain made it hard for him to look directly at me.
I dropped my gaze to the ground. He pulled my face closer to him.
“Didn't I?!”
“Yes.” I hissed.
“So why didn't you listen to me?”
“Because I...”
Victor released his grip of me. I fell backwards in to the muddy ground.
“I'm sorry.” I sobbed.
“Stop crying, Ángel. A Mara* never cries.” (* Mara = Mara Salvatrucha medlem)
Even if the lump in my throat kept growing I shut up. Instead I lied down next to him with my head resting on his chest.
“Promise me, chico.” He said.
“What?”
“To never look into the eyes of the devil.” (= att inte bli en Mara och fastna i det livet, djävulens ögon tillhör såklart Diablo.)

Till prologen lyssnade jag om och om igen till låten "Yo te esperaré" (= Jag kommer vänta (på dig)), lyssnade mycket intensivt till den sista dialogen. Jag blev alldeles blödig :P

Det stod förresten om Mara Salvatrucha i Expressen häromdagen. Lite roligt tyckte jag. Det var en väldigt liten notis som handlade om att El Salvador firade att det var den första dagen på tre år som det inte skett några mord i landet. Det var en bra notis tyckte jag :)

Pennan mäktigare än svärdet...

..och mäktigare än något annat just nu. Inte för att jag använder pennan så mycket när jag skriver, lättare och fortare/bekvämare med datorn så klart. Har varit så jäklans produktiv nu den senaste timmen att jag blir galet glad men också rädd/stressad att snart rinner inspirationen ur mig.
Jag älskar mina små gangsta boys/mördarmaskiner i El Salvador :P
Kvällens metod: Jag har klippt och klistrat typ och suttit ihop scener med varandra och kapitel efter varandra och har nu hela 11 sidor än så länge. Nu ska jag försöka få ihop allting snyggt. Vilken dröm det skulle vara att få klart detta projekt på bara några dagar men det känns som en oändlig omöjlighet. Men man ska aldrig säga aldrig. Hoppas kunna få ihop något sammanhängande så att jag kan låta någon läsa det jag skrivit, för just nu skulle nog ingen hänga med på vad som händer i texten om jag lät någon läsa den nu, så jag får vänta. *suck*

Hur som helst, jag behövde skriva av mig lite men jag är säker på att nästan ingen förstår vad jag babblar om för jag hänger inne i min egna bubbla. Ska snart lämna den dock, dags för sängen, känner mig trött efter en rushig arbetsdag. Imorgon ska det solas med Maria. Längtar! Och fira lillebror som blir jubileums ålder i år. 20 år. Aaaw. Puttenutt.

God natt

Es esta la gran final

Yay, fick till slutscenen, det var ett tag sen jag skrev på mitt MS gäng "Los Hermanos." Jag har egentligen skrivit ett annat slut, men då hade jag inte listat ut vem som var Chicos brors riktige mördare. Nu har jag det och då blir det här hämndfulla slutet så mycket bättre.
Jag älskar också att jag kommit på något som inte var menat att vara symboliskt men som blev det. El Diablo (Oscar, Los Hermanos ledaren) betyder "djävulen" på spanska, Chico heter egentligen Angel vilket är en form av Angelo som betyder ängel. Djävulen/satan vs en ängel (Gud) ja, det är ju helt underbart perfekt! Wow.
Nu till slutet, i slutet har Chico vuxit till sig och har förstått att det inte finns något för honom i MS. Med hjälp av MS legenden Arcangel har han förstått vem som är hans brors verkliga mördare. Han har nu bestämt sig för att hämnas sin brors och El Jokers död, men måste även han dö på kuppen för att han inte kan leva ett liv på rymmen från Los Hermanos gänget när han väl genomför sin hämnd. (Än så länge är det bara en A4:a, men det ska bli mkt längre, hopefully) Jag älskar att jag kommit på vem som står i dörröppningen när Chico skjuter, så jäkla highscore!!

”This is it then? Es esta la gran final? (=is this the grand final)” He chuckled, his eyes black like the depth of *Lago de Coatepeque (* en sjö i san salvador). Diablo had grown up without feeling fear. Like all members the gang had fostered him to leave behind any feelings related to fear and love? This had resulted in great hubris as he no longer bothered death, to take another mans life was nothing to worry about anymore. He thought too highly of himself, always believing his homies would take his bullets. But what if they didn't for once, what if they had realized that this was not the way of life, like I had. There was nothing glorious about being a part of Los Hermanos or MS.
“I know you did it.” I said, with one hand on the gun in my pocket.
I hated him. He'd taken everything from me, everything that had ever mattered. It was all gone and it didn't mean a thing to him because I was just one out of his army of men willing to worship him like a God.
He snorted and rolled his eyes.
“Have you gone all loco Chico?” He threw up his arms. “Come here.”
I stood where my feet had been placed since I stepped into the room. I was not his to boss around with anymore, I was my own self now, with my own head to think with. I wouldn't listen to his bullshit, praising like he was Jesus in human form. That was in the past now.
“I don't understand you Chico. Yesterday you were my brother now, you are my enemy?”
I looked into his eyes. He looked confused but I knew hat deep down inside of him he was just playing with me. Inside him the devil was sleeping only until it was time for it to wake up and make its move. It would kill me if I misbehaved.
“You are like a brother to me Chico, like a REAL brother, like I was to El Maquina* (Diablos döde bror, exledare av Los Hermanos) was to me.”
“You're not my brother. Victor was my brother!”
“Chico you have simply gone mad.”
“Don't call me Chico my name's Angel. My mother named me that because in her eyes I was a Gabriel a Raphael a Michael.”
“(What you're saying I cant here.) I am your family Chico and I decide what my children are called. Not some old hag who couldn't deal with her own.”
I felt the fire in me come alive/ to life. You could spit on me but you didn't talk trash about my family, you just didn't, even angels had demons in them. And it burst open, freed itself from my chest and attacked its enemy like a burning red dragon. Its tail swung in the air in front of me and I pulled the gun out of my jeans pocket, aimed it with steady hands towards my opponent. I wasn't scared, I didn't wet my pants nor did my fingers tremble this time. I had learned how to become an assassin by the man in front of me and now the same man would face his penalty for the lives he'd taken and destroyed.
“What the FUCK you think you doing Chico?! Tu eres loco! (=du är galen) You know what this means.” He stood up from his so called throne.
I knew exactly what this meant.
“You're a pussy Oscar. Nothing but a PUSSY! You can't stand people telling you you're wrong. You just kill them like they were flies. Just like you did with Joker* (ex medlem), just like you did with Victor* (Chicos döde bror & ex medlem)!”
Diablo looked through his pockets but couldn't seem to find anything.
“So the devil is unarmed when his life is at stake. And where are your brothers when you really need them?”
I cocked the gun. It was now or never, there would be no second chances. I knew that when my demon had slayed the devil there would be no turning back, nor would there be a life worth living for me, not all could live like Arcangel, but at least I would have my revenge and that was what was worth it in the end. I couldn't go back to my grandmother I would be on a constant run, there would be no where to run and that was not a proper life. The homies would hunt me like bloodhounds and once I was found they'd shoot me dead.
I pulled the trigger, the bullet flew out from the muzzle. I saw the smoke, I saw everything in slow motion but too late did I see the dark figure appearing in the door. Too late did I see the figure pull its gun and fire.

Spääännande va ;) hehe

Skrivtorka, men många karaktärer

Har haft lite skrivtorka på författarfronten. Skittråkigt jag vet. Vill skapa, men kan inte komma på något. Lerklumpen ligger framför mig, redo att bli skulpterad men det blir bara skit. Det är som att hjärnan blockerar min förmåga. Men jag får inte får läcka ord som ett såll.

Så därför delar jag med mig av karaktärerna som än så länge finns med i The Salvadorian in My Heart/In it For Life. (som utspelar sig ca. 2009/slutet av boken ska utspela sig 2009) det med årtal är lite krångligt än så länge, har inte fått ihop alla pusselbitarna.)

"El Soldado" - Bott i USA, LA, innan han skickades tillbaka till El Salvador vid 30 års ålder. Tillhörde tidigare ett MS gäng i L.A. innan han blev tillbaka skickad till El Salvador där han fortplantade MS13 efter att fler homies anlänt från USA.

Sanchez "El Maquina" Medina - (född 1981 död 2001). Ex-ledare av Los Hermanos och den äldste av Medina bröderna. Vid 18 års ålder åkte han in i fängelset för innehavande av droger, efter två år släpptes han men polisen bestämde sig ändå för att hålla hård koll på honom eftersom han var en MS13 ledare. Dock blev Sanchez mördad av en medlem ur gänget 18 när han släpptes fri.

Oscar "Diablo" Medina - (född 1984). 25år gammal och Maras ledare sen 8 år tillbaka. Växte upp i gänget när brodern var deras ledare. Blev riktig/aktiv medlem efter 10års ålder (mellan 11-12). Den äldre medlemmen och vicepresidenten "namn" tog över rollen som ledare medan Sanchez satt i fängelset(1999). Efter Sanchez död, 2001 när Diablo var 17 år tog han(Diablo) över som ledare, som Sanchez bestämt. Han ansågs först vara en ynkrygg tills han visade sitt rätta jag efter 18s mord på brodern. Diablo dödade fem gängmedlemar ur 18 inklusive sin brors mördare, tillsammans med få andra ur Los Hermanos. (2001).
Hans flickvän är gängmedlemen Mercedes Morales som han har tre barn med.
Ángel beskriver Diablos utseende som en målad tavla. Diablos kropp är full av tatueringar, förutom ansiktet som bara har två tårar nedanför vänstra ögat och en liten tatuering på örat.

Lawrence "El Gato" Medina - (1992 - 2008). Den yngste av de tre Medina bröderna. Död av 18.

Julio "El Lagrima" Hernández - Diablos vicepresident, som tar över ledarrollen om Diablo åker in i fängelset eller dör. Har orden "Only God Can Judge Me" intatuerade på bröstet med kursiv stil. En tår nedanför vänstra ögat.

Melvin "Cuchillo" Castillo - andre "vicepresident". Har ett stort ärr som löper över högra ögat. Har MS 13 intatuerat med gotisk stil på hakan.

Ángel "El Chico" Martínez - (född 1992) skriven i jag-form. Är bokens huvudperson. Han har haft kontakt med Mara innan hans brors död och han visste vem Diablo var innan han gick med i Mara som 15-16 åring. Hans första tatuering var en tår nedanför vänstra ögats vrå för sin brors död. Blev medlem i Los Hermanos efter sin storebrors död (2008/2009)

Victor Martínez - (född 1986. död 2008) El Chicos storebror och var ex-medlem av Los Hermanos innan han blev avrättad av en 18 medlem som 22åring. Han var en av Diablos högre uppsatta homies. Blev medlem vid 15års ålder (2002), samma år som Diablo blev ledare för Los Hermanos.
Var tillsammans med Luna Gonzalez. Ca. år 2005 började Victor vilja ta sig ur gänget i smyg. Gjorde allt för att hans bror inte skulle hamna i Los Hermanos.

Mario "El Wings" - den som säljer knarket, ett av gängets intäkter.

Edwin "Joker" - den som säljer knarket

Silvia Martínez - Victor och El Chicos mamma. De har ingen pappa.

Alejandro "Asesino" Rojas -

Jesús "Lucifer" Lopéz -

"Gabino" -

Pace "El Zero" - har alltid en bandana runt huvudet.

"Lil Face" - ca 12 år. Den yngste och senaste medlemmen av Los Hermanos.

"Tito" - "Tito with the mad eyes"/"Mad-eyed Tito" gängets vilde, vill att saker och ting ska ske på stört, drar för snabba slutsatser etc

Mercedes Morales - ca. 18/19 år. Los Hermanos medlem, Diablos "fru". Har hand om knarket.

Luna Gonzalez - Los Hermanos medlem och Victors ex.

Charlie

Edwin

Killen till höger (första bilden) blev min inspiration till hur Joker ser ut. Tack vare hans tatuering.
Killen på mitten bilden är min vision av hur Paco ser ut. Längst ner har ni min älskade Diablo och bilden högst upp känner jag liknar hur jag vill att Cuchillo ska se ut (dock inte många tatueringar i ansiktet)

Skrivande och Musik

Musiken är en väldigt (om inte enormt!) viktig del av mitt skrivandet, det måste vara rätt låtar, sound, för att jag ska kunna komma in i scener, karaktärers tankesätt, situationer, känslor, etc. Utan musiken skulle jag inte kunna skriva på det sätt jag gör.
Bara för skojs skull delar jag med mig av min speciella spellista för "The Salvadorian in My Heart/In it For Life" (som den ser ut just nu):


01. Rumba - Daddy Yankee
02. Pa-kum-pa - Daddy Yankee
03. Infinito - Daddy Yankee
04. Somos de calle - Daddy Yankee
05. City of the Padres - El Dyablo
06. Killas (ft. The Game & Ice Cube) - Lil' Jon
07. Tu eres mi baby - Nicky Jam & Daddy Yankee
08. Live your life (remix) - Pitbull
09. Sensacion Del Bloque - Randy & De La Ghetto
10. 56 Barz - T.I.
11. Ready for whatever - T.I.
12 On top of the world (ft. Ludacris & B.O.B) - T.I.
13. Live your life (ft. Rihanna) - T.I.
14. Whats up whats haappnin - T.I.
15. Every chance I get - T.I.
16. You aint missin nothing - T.I.
17. Dead and gone (ft. Timberlake) - T.I.
18. El Heroe de mi Corazon - Tercer Cielo
19. La Calle - Tercer Cielo
20. My life (ft. Slim Thug & Trae) - Chamillionare
21. Only God can judge me - 2Pac
22. All eyez on me - 2Pac
23. Keep ya head up - 2Pac
24. Changes - 2Pac
25. Staring through my rearview - 2Pac
26. Atrevete-Te - Calle13

^^