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Little Swallow Surprise 6
It's been some time since we have told our story. Rafa, Maria, and I (Alex Kroon) were teaching at a top independent boys' school on the outskirts of Boston. We had all resigned after a tragedy at the school and we got jobs, at half the salary, in an independent Catholic school in Guatemala City.
We were sad to leave the school in Boston and often spoke about our farewell assembly when we were asked to say a few words Rafa had played a short piece on the piano and I spoke about truth and being truthful to yourself, Maria spoke about goodbyes and switched between French and Spanish. We were popular teachers and we could never forget how the boys stood up and cheered and clapped after we spoke. The three of us had grown to love the boys and we were in tears.
We settled in well into our new school. Maria taught French and Spanish, Rafa taught music and I taught English. I continued with my studies at Boston College. The religious order had given us an apartment to share which was adjacent to the campus in the inner city. The downside of living in Guatemala City was that it was very unsafe and that you couldn't move freely around town because of the danger of being mugged, however things were OK if you moved around in groups. Rafa and I had been to Guatemala City on a choir tour before and we had also visited Antigua, which wasn't too far but much safer.
I almost forgot. Because Maria was an ex-Nun, they asked her to teach religion. She had final-year students who loved to flirt with her. Maria was very confident in herself and brushed them off nonchalantly. They enjoyed her challenging approach, and she used John Gray's book "The Sven Types of Atheism". Maria had a rudimentary Spanish translation and found it useful to generate debate. One boy who wanted to be a priest got angry with her and argued in Spanish:
"I believe there are grounds for hope, but hope is shunned by Gray. It doesnot resonate with his definition of atheism as the absence of a creator God. If there is no such God, we are indeed hopeless."
The priest in charge of religious education at the school avoided arguing with Maria who was a formidable thinker. I loved arguing with her, as we stumbled along in our broken English and Spanish, and I was somehow attracted to her. I knew I was gay, but her olive skin, near-perfect complexion, and dark brown hair were beautiful. I think I was also in love with her personality as she was very much like Rafa and could animate any space. At night, when we watched BBC News, I would watch her sitting with her feet on the couch.
There was an Italian teacher in the international programme who regularly hung around with us, and I noticed how she was also mesmerized by Maria. I suspected that Tina might have had a crush on her.
I worked with a group of senior students who often told me how lucky I was to be sharing an apartment with Maria. I never told them that I was gay, as Rafa and I had to be more discreet about our relationship. Together with these students, we worked on designing an installation at the school to celebrate the life of a local Catholic martyr. Bishop Juan Gerardi was savagely murdered in 1998, two days after presenting the Church's report recounting the atrocities committed by the Guatemalan Army during its 36-year armed conflict. The 78-year-old bishop, who led the effort of collecting war testimonies, was bludgeoned in the head and face with a concrete slab in Guatemala City's Zona 1.
I enjoyed this school far more than the school in Boston, my Spanish was improving, and I related far more easily to the boys who were more authentic. There were two or three who would engage in long conversations and who I was attracted to. Aapo was a Mayan boy, who was proud of his culture. He had jet-black hair and smooth olive-coloured skin. He was taller than the other Mayan children and far more outspoken, in a country where Indigenous people were still not fully recognised. He would sometimes stand behind me at my desk and put his hand on my shoulder or lean against me.
Some nights Maria would pray at supper, not necessarily formally using a few words of invocation. Maria seemed to be reinventing her religion and I loved watching the evolution. We were all still traumatised by the death of the boy in Boston and Maria left my poem on our fridge on the kitchen as a reminder:
In halls where laughter's hushed to sighs, A child's bright spark fades and dies. Boarded dreams, too soon to part, A tender soul, stilled in heart.
Gone too soon from life's embrace, A tragic loss, no time to chase. In whispers, grief now softly weeps, A young life lost, in silence sleeps.
I loved Rafa, and he was flourishing at the school. He had connected with the choir, and they were doing interesting work. He related well to the boys and got the best out of them. When the boys entered competitions they would win hands-down. I loved his new arrangement of Riu, riu, chui the Catalan carol which the choir performed regularly.
Riu, riu, chiu... (Extract)
I saw a thousand Angels Who were singing Flying around Chanting in a thousand voices Saying to the shepherds Glory in Heaven And peace on earth
For Jesus is born Riu, riu, chiu...
Rafa and I enjoyed each other's company, even though we saw so a lot of each other. I remember the first time we met in Barcelona. I woke Rafa up as I entered the room we would share in Barcelona. He stood up and shook my hand. He told me how fast his heart was beating when he saw me. Rafa showed me around the city to give me a sense of the lay of the land.
We shot up Tibidabo Hill, an excellent viewpoint over 500m above the city. There he pointed out the harbour, the main beach, the Sagrada Familia, and other landmarks. Later that evening Rafa took me to a tapas bar where we enjoyed the traditional Spanish way of eating.
I had already put my sleep shorts on by the time Rafa came out of the shower. He finished drying himself off and dropped his towel on the floor, and I enjoyed watching him from behind and immediately fell in love with his perfectly shaped arse. When I stood up and made my way to the shower to hang my towel up, I accidentally brushed into him and ended up grabbing him because the chemistry seemed so right. I wrapped my hand around Rafa's dick and began to wank it slowly. There was no resistance, and he began to respond by working his hand up and my shaft. I still get embarrassed thinking about it now. How on earth could I have been so forward and pushy? It could have easily gone pear-shaped.
I was keen that we got out of the school and the city and found some space. Maria brought us all back to reality, and we made plans to spend a weekend exploring Antigua, and she thought of inviting Tina. We agreed to use an Uber to get there, and we arranged to stay at an inexpensive convent guesthouse.
Rafa and I had visited Antigua on the American choir tour. The city is surrounded by four volcanoes. Once we had unpacked, we went on a walking tour of this ancient colonial city. There were many places of interest including the hospital founded by the city' own saint. Saint Hermano Pedro founded shelters for the poor, indigenous, and homeless, and founded a religious order in 1656, to serve the poor. Brother Pedro attended to the poor, sick, orphaned, and dying, and was a promoter of human rights. The city had been hit by many earthquakes over time and we visited some of the ruins. There were souvenirs to be bought in many places.
From a security point of view, this Antigua was much safer to be in, and I felt more relaxed, we could walk the streets until later at night. I told Maria about the incident we had to deal with when we had the choir on tour. We had asked the boys to get to bed early that night, because of the early start the next day. Unfortunately, some boys made a helluva racket during the night and woke me up, and I had to investigate. I had a master key and went into the room where all the noise was coming from. There I found two naked final-year boys chasing each other with erections. The other two were having sex on their bed. I was in an awkward situation and told them to put their pajamas on and sit at the end of the bed. This was the second part of their shenanigans, and I castigated them for their behaviour and told them that they needed to be more discreet. Two of the boys cried and begged me not to tell their parents, and I said that I would discuss the situation with the choirmaster and make a call the next day.
The next day we joined a small tour group to go to Chichicastenango, a Maya cultural centre where most of the population were indigenous Mayan. The bus took nearly three hours to get there as it wound its way through narrow mountain roads. The rural landscapes allowed us to see how most of the population lived.
Soon after arriving, we climbed the steps and visited the 400-year-old church of Santo Tomás, which is built on top of a pre-Columbian temple. The steps leading to a temple of the pre-Hispanic Maya civilization remain venerated and Mayan priests still used the church for their rituals, burning incense and candles. Each of the 18 stairs leading up to the church stood for one month of the Maya calendar. Sometimes the Mayan priests burn chickens for the gods in special situations.
The sounds, sights and, and smells were all quite mind-blowing, and we were glad to go to a nearby site in Chichicastenango where an ancient carved stone was venerated, and the Maya priests performed several rituals. Maria found the synchronistic approach to religion fascinating and was keen to return. She spoke about coming back to Chichicastenango and finding a project to work in.
The trip back to Antigua was long and we made it just in time to have dinner in the convent guest house. That evening we walked to the town square through the cobbled streets. The restaurants in the town were full, but the streets were relatively empty compared to the busy days. We were surprised to find `Little Swallow Chinese Restaurant' on one of the side streets. There was a beautiful young Chinese man behind the counter who spoke very little Spanish. We ordered three Chicken Spring rolls and ate them on our way back to the guesthouse. It was a warm night and we enjoyed walking freely on the streets and wished that we rather lived in this city.
We were exhausted that night and Rafa and I got into bed soon after showering. I estimated that the furniture was over a hundred years old. The mattress was very worn and sagged into the middle. Rafa and I were naked and fell asleep in each other's arms.
Note
In Chinese culture, the swallow holds a special place and is considered a symbol of good luck and prosperity. They are known for their beautiful song and their ability to build intricate nests.
The swallow is also seen as a symbol of freedom and independence. Its ability to soar through the skies with ease and grace represents the desire for liberation and the pursuit of personal freedom. Swallows are migratory birds that travel thousands of kilometres each year, returning to their nesting sites in China during the spring season. Just as the swallow is not bound by the constraints of the ground, individuals who resonate with this symbolism seek to break free from societal expectations and live life on their terms.
This story is adapted from the bigger Return to Barcelona saga on Nifty.