A Brief History of El Salvador Circa 1981 – Fawzy Zablah

All nine boys each had their turn with the daughter of Manuel

Zamur. When they finished she was left on the same spot, under a

Ilama tree. The boy she loved was the last one to leave, wandering

away like a shadow departing, turning back only to hush her weeping

with a single finger before disappearing into the mountain. He carried a rifle that he stole from a soldier

in San Salvador. The boy was from Cojutepeque. He turned Godless the very moment

after firing his first gun.

She remained under the Ilama tree for an entire afternoon until a peasant with a bushy white mustache and a toothy grin noticed her, gave her water from an old leather flask, and asked her name.
“My name is Carolina,” she whispered. “Carolina Zamur. Daughter of Manuel Zamur.”
“Your father owns the Galleria Zamur,” the peasant said. “I know him. He is a good man. How did you get here? You are far from your home.”
“I ran away,” the girl said, as he helped her sit up. Her private school uniform was ripped at the sleeves and she had bruises all over her face.
“Why did you run away?”
The girl first glanced into the peasant’s gray eyes and then looked away.
“I don’t know,” she said, weeping.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “Do you know who you remind me of?”
The girl did not say anything.
“You remind me of Snow White. Do you know the story of Snow White, the girl that sleeps in a coffin in a forest? She waits for her prince to awaken her. I am not your prince. Your prince will come. I am too old.”
The girl tried to smile but her lower lip was busted. The old peasant was pleased at the attempt.