(Part nine, of “The Loro Machaco Villa Rica,” saga)
Johnny, a journey to Huaytapallana (White Mountain)
Before Johnny Urdanegui went on his last job with Juan Diego, the Boss of the Loro Manchaca cartel, he spent a day visiting with his father, who lived in a little hamlet, on the dusty dirt road that led to Huaytapallana (White Mountain), near Huancayo, Peru, the hamlet called Acopalca, known for its fat and tasty trout. Little did he know, this would be his last visit? Kathy, Carlos and Juan Diego, stayed at a quant hotel down by the Plaza de Arms, in Huancayo, awaiting Johnny’s return.
“Sure enough,” the old man said to his son Johnny, “it’s about time you come home to stay…!”
Not knowing it was only for a day, not knowing he was part of the recent kidnapping but knowing something, but not completely sure of anything.
“Yes,” the young man said.
“I haven’t smoked since you left a year ago, been waiting to tell you, it was hard after forty-years.” The old man boasted with pride.
Then the old man took his boy by the hand, “Behind the house,” he said, “let me take you behind the house, I got something to show you!”
(The old man thinking, and hoping he’d settle something.)
“What confused me son for a long time,” he started to say, standing in one particular spot “was you hanging around with them outlaws, I hear you joined the “Loro Machaco Gang,” and I thought all the time all the money in the world wasn’t worth losing you, so I thought when next I saw you, when you come back home like you did today, I’d do what I planned on doing, unburying my money I’ve been saving for ten-years, I got 10,000 soles ($3500-dollars), it’s all yours just don’t go back to the cartel please.”
The old man tried to catch his breath, and then asked, “Who is this man called Juan Diego?”
“I can’t tell you,” exclaimed the boy.
“I wanted to give up and die if you didn’t come home,” said the old man, his voice shaking now, then adding, “I always expected you to out live me, not sure if I could take you dying before me.”
Again the old man tried to catch his breath, his heart pumping faster than a wheelbarrow in fast motion.
“Are you in trouble?” asked the old man.
“What kind of trouble are you talking about,” replied he boy.
“The law type!” exclaimed the old man.
“Don’t get me wrong pa,” said the youth, “I’m no wilder than the other youth around Huancayo.”
“Alright,” said the old man.
“No,” said the youth, “I’m not going to take your money, nor stay around here, matter-of-fact, I got to be leaving in the morning.”
It seemed the old man didn’t want to hear what his son was saying, and started digging into the ground with his hands, and the boy tried to stop him, because he was breathing hard, and sweating, and he wouldn’t stop, and then he pulled out a tin box, held it up to his son, and tried to give it to him, but he wouldn’t take it, yet the old man insisted. Then the old man fell flat on his face, the tin box fell out of his hand, and there he lay, stiff as board.
Note: “Last Visit to Acopalca” written in the afternoon of 12-8-2008, at the café La Mia Mamma, in El Tambo, Huancayo, Peru.
Johnny, a journey to Huaytapallana (White Mountain)
Before Johnny Urdanegui went on his last job with Juan Diego, the Boss of the Loro Manchaca cartel, he spent a day visiting with his father, who lived in a little hamlet, on the dusty dirt road that led to Huaytapallana (White Mountain), near Huancayo, Peru, the hamlet called Acopalca, known for its fat and tasty trout. Little did he know, this would be his last visit? Kathy, Carlos and Juan Diego, stayed at a quant hotel down by the Plaza de Arms, in Huancayo, awaiting Johnny’s return.
“Sure enough,” the old man said to his son Johnny, “it’s about time you come home to stay…!”
Not knowing it was only for a day, not knowing he was part of the recent kidnapping but knowing something, but not completely sure of anything.
“Yes,” the young man said.
“I haven’t smoked since you left a year ago, been waiting to tell you, it was hard after forty-years.” The old man boasted with pride.
Then the old man took his boy by the hand, “Behind the house,” he said, “let me take you behind the house, I got something to show you!”
(The old man thinking, and hoping he’d settle something.)
“What confused me son for a long time,” he started to say, standing in one particular spot “was you hanging around with them outlaws, I hear you joined the “Loro Machaco Gang,” and I thought all the time all the money in the world wasn’t worth losing you, so I thought when next I saw you, when you come back home like you did today, I’d do what I planned on doing, unburying my money I’ve been saving for ten-years, I got 10,000 soles ($3500-dollars), it’s all yours just don’t go back to the cartel please.”
The old man tried to catch his breath, and then asked, “Who is this man called Juan Diego?”
“I can’t tell you,” exclaimed the boy.
“I wanted to give up and die if you didn’t come home,” said the old man, his voice shaking now, then adding, “I always expected you to out live me, not sure if I could take you dying before me.”
Again the old man tried to catch his breath, his heart pumping faster than a wheelbarrow in fast motion.
“Are you in trouble?” asked the old man.
“What kind of trouble are you talking about,” replied he boy.
“The law type!” exclaimed the old man.
“Don’t get me wrong pa,” said the youth, “I’m no wilder than the other youth around Huancayo.”
“Alright,” said the old man.
“No,” said the youth, “I’m not going to take your money, nor stay around here, matter-of-fact, I got to be leaving in the morning.”
It seemed the old man didn’t want to hear what his son was saying, and started digging into the ground with his hands, and the boy tried to stop him, because he was breathing hard, and sweating, and he wouldn’t stop, and then he pulled out a tin box, held it up to his son, and tried to give it to him, but he wouldn’t take it, yet the old man insisted. Then the old man fell flat on his face, the tin box fell out of his hand, and there he lay, stiff as board.
Note: “Last Visit to Acopalca” written in the afternoon of 12-8-2008, at the café La Mia Mamma, in El Tambo, Huancayo, Peru.
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