The Death of Che Guevara
Eduardo Galeano, the Uruguayan writer, tells us about Che's death.
Seventeen men march toward annihilation. Cardinal Maurer arrives in Bolivia from Rome. He brings the Pope's blessings and the news that God resolutely supports General Barrientos against the guerrillas.
Meanwhile, beset by hunger, overwhelmed by geography, the guerrillas wander through the bushes of the Ñancahuazú River. There are few peasants in these vast solitudes; and not one, not one, has joined Che Guevara's small troop. Their forces diminish from ambush to ambush.
Che does not waver, he does not let himself waver, although he feels that his own body is a stone among stones, a heavy stone that he drags as he advances at the head of all; nor is he tempted by the idea of saving the group by abandoning the wounded. By Che's orders, they all march at the pace of those who can least: together, they will all be saved or lost. Eighteen hundred soldiers, led by North American Rangers, march on their shadow. The fence draws closer and closer. Finally, a few peasant informers and the electronic radars of the United States National Security Agency reveal the exact location. Shrapnel breaks his legs. Sitting, he continues to fight, until the rifle flies out of his hands. The soldiers slap each other for the watch, the canteen, the belt, the pipe. Several officers interrogate him one after the other. Che is silent and blood flows. Rear Admiral Ugarteche, a daring land wolf, head of the navy of a landlocked country, insults and threatens him.
Che spits in his face. From La Paz, the order arrives to liquidate the prisoner. An explosion mows him down. Che dies from a bullet, he dies by betrayal, just before his fortieth birthday, at exactly the same age that Zapata and Sandino died, also from a bullet, also by betrayal.
In the small town of Higueras, General Barrientos displays his trophy to journalists. Che lies on a sink washing clothes. After the bullets, he is riddled with flashes. This last face has accusing eyes and a melancholy smile. He believed in defending oneself from the traps of greed, without ever letting one's guard down.
When he was president of the National Bank of Cuba, Che had signed the bills, to mock money. For the love of people, he despised things. Sick is the world, he believed, where to have and to be mean the same thing. He never kept anything for himself, nor asked for anything. To live is to give oneself, he believed; and it happened."
Until Victory Always.
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