"Saludos para todos " un relato de "Vulnerables" traducido al ingles para Jewishlatinamerica

 

Greetings to All 

So far, the deceased relatives of my maternal family are fewer than the living members who live in my hometown. The same city where my grandparents formed the family to which I proudly belong. There were those who observed that we must not be careless, and if young people continue to emigrate, it could affect the sacred equation. It would be an unpleasant surprise to have fewer living relatives than those resting in the cemetery. Since cremation is not permitted within Judaism, the calculation is simple. Surrendering oneself to the land is the way to purify the soul. Tradition says that it is unwise to defy fate.

There is no way to retain young people who think of seeking new horizons. We are descendants of the boldest, those who survived persecution thanks to their temerity in emigrating to these noble lands. They did not understand the local language, but where it was said that if you sow a seed, you will reap money. It’s true that they didn’t have much to lose in their countries of origin; staying meant enduring hunger and violence. The intrepid spirit remains in their blood, even when the landscape changes, and what’s happening was only to be expected. I’m sorry to say, but at some point these fears will come true, and fewer of the living will dwell in the southern city than those who rest in the cemetery.

Dizzy with these thoughts, I go to visit the graves of my deceased relatives. My cousin offered to accompany me; she describes herself as a serial cemetery visitor. She tells me that the Hebrew translation is beit chaim, the house of life. For her, it’s always a good time to visit them. She’s one of those relatives in every family who dedicates himself to honoring the memory of their ancestors.

When my cousin found out, she naturally sent me her greetings to everyone. I didn’t say anything so as not to offend her.

Jewish cemeteries are well maintained as long as there are mourners in the city who care for them. In those villages where almost no community members live, the few who remain hold the keys in case a distant relative feels the need to delve into their past. Or to welcome a curious lover of necrotourism.

Land is scarce, and cities grow wherever they can find space. The worst thing for a cemetery is to be in the middle of a town because it increases the risk of looters, who are always present. Or of entrepreneurs who need land for their investments.

This cemetery has been left far from the access routes to the city; nothing happens near that dirt road. Its neighbors are brick kilns, probably without legal authorization. And a large clandestine garbage dump without municipal control. Plastic bags, blown by the wind, end up caught in the fences of neighboring fields. This sad landscape reminded me that several passages in the Bible speak of a public garbage dump located south of Jerusalem. In this place, not only the corpses of criminals and sacrificed animals were dumped, but also the city’s waste.

The association between Gehenna, the name of the garbage dump, and eternal damnation was primarily due to the flames that constantly burned to consume the waste. An image of destruction and death. Furthermore, the stench and putrefaction emanating from this place added a sense of horror and desolation that came to be associated with eternal torment. From this arose the idea of ​​hell for sinners.

A garbage dump near the cemetery is like summoning a nearby hell. The community should do something about it because it’s a disappointing sight. But, at the same time, not bad for a cemetery that wants to go unnoticed.

When we arrived, we saw that there was a closed sign on the old gate. We were surprised because the Hebrew calendar didn’t include any religious commemoration.

It must necessarily be temporary.

I didn’t have another time to visit and was passing through the city, so we waited patiently for the caretaker to return. When he arrived, he didn’t even attempt to apologize for our lost time. He casually informed us that he needed to leave to take advantage of an offer. It was clear he had his way. His familiarity with our deceased relatives gave him certain permissions. Being able to do so without hiding his lack of empathy was one of them.

He then warned us that seeing us inside would encourage others to enter. We didn’t see any cars for miles; we thought the comment was odd, but it soon became clear that he was right. The man, like it or not, knew the ins and outs of his job.

Moments later, other mourners were touring the new section of the cemetery. All of this without making eye contact with us. The cemetery is governed by a principle of privacy in grief.

The plot isn’t very large, and many of my ancestors are on the older side. All the graves face Jerusalem, the holy city.

Feminine practice. The custom, quite absurd, by the way, disappeared with the passage of time.

My cousin was waiting for us on our return. She’s one of those people who doesn’t like to talk about death or the dead. Deep down, she believes she’ll never die. She dreams of living forever. It’s not that she doesn’t know it, she’s just not willing to accept it. She doesn’t want to think that one day she’ll have to leave this world. She clings to her little habits, her cares, her hope. But sometimes the words escape from her cell, and she asks things like this: “How was everyone?” Outside of that context, these words are incomprehensible. Faced with this, as is appropriate with the people one loves, one must simply remain silent. I am certain that death doesn’t care what we think. Death is undefeated. It speaks when it must speak, and nothing can silence it.

There’s no doubt that we all have a cemetery floating around us, whether we realize it or not, we live thinking about our dead. No one is completely immune to these thoughts.

But one thing is certain, whether good or bad, everyone was in the cemetery. No one leaves on their own.


Traducido por Stephen Sadow

se puede ver completo junto al texto original en  https://jewishlatinamerica.com/2025/08/06/jorge-santovsky-cuentista-y-negociante-judio-argentino-argentine-jewish-short-story-writer/

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