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Wednesday, May 31, 2023

Trade in organs

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Wilson Rogelio Enciso
Wilson Rogelio Enciso
Escritor colombiano (Chaguaní, 4/15 de julio de 1958), profesional en Ciencias Políticas y Administrativas (Administrador público), especializado en Administración de la Planeación Urbana y Regional y diplomado en: Docencia Universitaria, Educación Virtual, Educación a Distancia y Planeación Estratégica. Laboró con el Estado colombiano entre 1978 y 2015 y fue docente universitario de 1986 a 2012. Es autor de una saga de dieciséis novelas, dos en proceso y cuatro en perspectiva, dos compilaciones de narraciones románticas y más de sesenta relatos. Obras publicadas: La iluminada muerte de Marco Aurelio Mancipe , 2016, novela. Con derrotero incierto , 2017, novela. Enfermos del alma , 2018, novela. El frío del olvido , 2019, novela. Amé en silencio, y en silencio muero , 2017, compilación de narraciones románticas. Matarratón, 2021, novela. Es autor de cuentos y relatos que sube de manera periódica a redes y que publica en Revista Latina NC , en Escondite Literario Tropical y en su página wrenciso.com . Fundó y gestiona desde 2016 la iniciativa literaria: Una novela para cada escuela . Busca incentivar la lectura desde el aula de clase en lugares remotos y de difícil acceso a la literatura, tanto en su país como en otras partes del mundo.

It happened to me when I arrived in the capital, in the Quiroga neighborhood. I was 11 years old. My aunt Cecilia sent me to buy bread on the corner, less than two blocks from the house. My cousin Álvaro, a little older than me, liked to run errands because the landlady always gave him a bandage.

When I went out for the errand, he stared out the window. She would wait for me to return and before I entered she would come out to meet me:

“So that he gives me what is mine!” —He warned me from the first time and reiterated it each time.

I left happy. I bought the bread and received the bandage: a lollipop that I kept in the bag.

As I left the store, a well-dressed man with a tie told me:

—Young man, from your town they sent a parcel to your mother.

—For mom…?, who?, where is she? I asked between surprised and happy; nothing distrustful despite the well-known warnings.

—A countryman! I have it there, near here. Come with me!

With the innocence of a young villager recently arrived in the city,
Naive! I followed him.

My cousin, seeing me take the other way, after a stranger, ran away. He soon caught up with us and called out to me.

The man disappeared as I turned to look.

I never knew where it went.

The scolding and hitting of the aunt, my mother and the cousin, he only
worried about the lollipop!, were less shocking and painful than the news:

This afternoon a well-dressed man in a tie kidnapped a young man in
Quiroga neighborhood…

But, not as much as the next day’s headline:

They found the kidnapped young man south of the city in a sack…
It appeared without vital organs or eyes!


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