The story of "Volver Al Monte," actually begins with another story. "Cabras" was written on the drive to work, a rare moment of epiphany as I was stuck behind a train realizing that maybe the call for subs for a "Goat Worship" anthology wasn't as silly as it seemed. "Cabras" became the story of an elderly and retired guerrilla fighter, fleeing to the countryside in the midst of an ending conflict, afraid that the paramilitary groups which cut out his tongue will kill his daughters if he remained.
Alas, the anthology the story was accepted for was not to be and the story remains unpublished, hopefully an original addition to a short story collection. But writing on war, on family violence and cyclical conflict stayed with me. I confess that I have not shared this experience, I believe that many Westerners are fortunate that they have not. Our uncompromising approach to many global issues, namely the broad brush of "terrorism" is a luxury. In the United States we have only once experienced a Civil War, and the vast majority of violence was sanctioned and orchestrated by state actors. Our post Civil War environment was remarkably stable (particularly for White America), and our ability to understand the victims and perpetrators of violence has been stunted by our cultural and historical experience.
"Volver Al Monte," speaks to this issue. Whereas "Cabras" focused on an old guerrilla, a revolutionary romantic-turned-farmer, General Alfonsin Santos is very much a warrior. He is the product of military academies, ideological inbreeding and a scientific understanding of war. His worldview is a far cry from the guerrilla. His duty is to the stability of his government and the destruction of his enemy. There is little hate for politics, but a disdain for anyone who would disrupt the equilibrium.
He is the sort of officer who would have applauded Pinochet. And the task was to make someone like this at least somewhat sympathetic. Give him a daughter. Friends. A tragedy, one at once separate from and embedded within the war he fed. Add the horror, the realization of enlightenment brought through heartache and torture. Take that man through hell, show him heaven and give a moment to realize the difference is superficial at best.
That was the goal of "Volver Al Monte."
The inspirations drew from a long study of conflict. The "Tuta Puriq" come from a real Quechua phrase translated as "Those who walk at night." The term was used to describe Sendero Luminoso, a violent guerrilla organization notable for actually carrying out more deaths and forced appearances than the government it fought. The group has similarities to various autodefensas and vigilante groups across the world, notably the emphasis on violence as a method to remake the world.
The work in "Volver Al Monte" carried over into a story called "Tierra Sagrada" which is currently out for consideration. Unlike both "Cabras" and "Volver," "Tierra" focuses on paramilitary groups. It will culminate, I believe at the time of writing, in a final story focusing on the aftermath of urban counter-insurgency. From above the cycle appears to be:
"Guerrilla, Government, Paramilitary, Non-Combatant."
I write about these things because I know them, and because they scare me. But I have not experienced them, and I hope that I never do. I can only hope to do justice for survivors, to not contribute anything that further glorifies war as anything other than the failure of politics through any other means. It's not my favorite headspace to be in, so hopefully I can wrap up operations with this theme for at least the near future.
For those interested, please consider purchasing "Cthonic: Weird Tales of Inner Earth" here:
https://www.amazon.com/Chthonic-Weird-Tales-Inner-Earth-ebook/dp/B07B2LWZRG/ref=la_B01M34MZOT_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1523754402&sr=1-3
"Volver" is one of several stories from authors far more talented than I. I'll have more to say on the anthology and its contents in the coming days.
-S. L.
