Nueva Carteya, Text

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Nueva Carteya, Andalusia in transition

A tide of perfectly aligned olive trees watches you like battlements from the 7 hills that, such as Rome, surround you, on your streets I used to see women in eternal mourning and the men coming back from the fields with their mules, hats of straw, cars drawn along by donkeys, the “Jeringos” i bought for the breakfast of each morning, and the heat, the heat rejected by the facades of your white houses, so fresh inside, with its walls covered with old black and white pictures , relatives who already had gone, and at the back, always the patio with their hens and turkeys, and the playpen where the pigs grew up until their slaughter.

And thus, house after house, in both sides of your paved streets, town of emigrants such as almost evrybody in your province, such as almost aeverybody in your mother country Andalusia, emigrants who irremediably returned every year in August month always from the north of your entrails, with the goods of their progress, thus, on your streets I saw roll over the first Seat 600 cars, You had got your “señoritos”, large estate owners, and your horrible crimes, those that always define the bad called ” Black Spain ” and many of your sons still remember the anguish of the war, and the postwar period, the irreconciliables positions, hatreds keept between victorious and conquered a time of a watcher famine, days of… yes,” señorito”.. time of an order observed by a mythical pair in that Spain, the pair of the Civil Guard, days of workers waiting without hope in the square of the town the wage ours of every day.

I remember you Nueva Carteya sometimes as a ghost town, on the most hot days , even flies don´t flew across the air, nothing walked across your streets until the torture of the sun disappeared over the skyline, and just when the night came … life back again, in your main street, in your summer cinema, in the bars such the mythical Soricia, therefore and for many other reasons, I remember you Nueva Carteya. About the memory, about what have already gone, about what still remains, but mainly about its people, all together is New Carteya about, an Andalusia in transition. .

 

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