No Ingleesh, No Ingleesh

Dedicated to those who exercise racism. The Universe is not happy with them but we can still give them some love. 

I don’t remember, when this happened. Two days ago or maybe in 1968 when MLK and many hearts were killed. I am not sure, maybe it is still happening right now. 

I was working after hours in my office. This place has many windows which give me a very open, extramural view. I can see the black top of the parking lot. I can see people walking, eating junk food or smoking. On special occasions, I spy birds chirping and challenging each other to see who can fly faster. I promise I have seen this. The sun and, depending on the time of the day, the moon are my witnesses. 

I actually… I am not going to lie to you, I was in my office but I wasn’t working. I was, in tears, watching a documentary on Amy Winehouse. It was 6:01 PM when MLK got assassinated and it was 6:01 PM when this car entered my parking lot. I found this to be a bit weird since my office was closed. I stared at the car. I detected a White couple inside of it. They looked like they were having an argument. Irritated expressions I noticed. The face of the guy was red. I was 99% sure that he was screaming. The angry man is sitting in the passenger seat. I looked again, the guy was still screaming. Now his face is all deformed. He does not look well at all. He makes a fist and punches the lady in the face. There’s blood coming down. Maybe from the nose. She is scared or, at least, she is not enjoying the pain, I can see it in her face. What would MLK think about this particular situation? A White man executing one of his own. I assured myself that he will be fine. He is White. His ancestors invented racism. No prosecution for him.

He punches her again and again and again. The lady is not moving anymore. At that point, I was preoccupied: I might be watching a crime scene. The guy notices that the lady is not animated. I can’t call the police, I am Mexican!. The abuser easily could blame his crime on me and the police would believe him 100%. Fuck, I am lost! I need to break away. My only option is the front door but he will see me and he will try to insert me into this part of his autobiography. I am scared. I have no papers. 

I took my chances. I left the building. The guy looked at me, opened the door, got out of the vehicle and started walking towards me. He is going to punch me, I thought. He didn’t. Instead he asked me for help. He said that they had an accident and that his wife isn’t in good condition. “No Ingleesh, No Ingleesh”, I said. He provides me with some fake news: “This black guy, a guy who would look like MLK, hit the rear end of my car and took off”. He didn’t know that I knew what he did. 

One hour later the white couple is in my restroom. They are crying. He apologizes to her. She is mad and frustrated. He implores forgiveness. She punches him in the face. He touches his face, looks at her with a rare emotion and says “thank you”. They start to walk out of the building. “Did you see anything, amigou?”, he asked right before he pushes the front door. I immediately said “No Ingleesh, No Ingleesh”. The car disappeared into the horizon. Outside, under one million and one stars, a cricket is chirping in the window. 

By Pepe Caudillo. Raleigh, NC. 8-5-2108

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