Chapter 5… Of poor lovesick poets
Sunset at the Isle Ometepe, Island, Rivas, Nicaragua
Though all this happened many years before I was born, and obviously, I never experienced these moments; I caught a glimpse into those occasions through Grandfather’s conversation. He would talk about the weekends at the house, with an immense fondness, affectionately referring to them as the happy times. As a consequence, I grew quite fond of that house, and I regarded it with the same warmth, as if I had personally lived in it.
Getting back to the matter at hand, there were a vast number of rumors about how Rubén Dario, the celebrated and famous Nicaraguan poet, used to visit the house regularly at the turn of the century. Many things have been said, and surely most of them, may be considered outright lies and probably the rest of them as well.
Among all that wealth of gossip, some said that he wrote “Margarita”, his well-known poem, precisely at the beach house. Also, frequently mentioned, is the questionable fact that he wrote it for Anastacio Somoza´s (the dictator at the time) sister-in-law, because, of course, he was simply and madly in love with her. This was a favorite topic for discussion, even though these events happened way before that time.
Nevertheless, at the time of those gatherings, the fishermen would take the tourists to see the house, now in ruins, from their boats and they had made a regular business of it. They charged for the boat ride to the island; the price included all kinds of fantastic stories told on the way, plus the detailed descriptions on how the poor poet lived disillusioned of love. Also, thrown in for the same price, the two-timing fishermen would include his supposed affair with Margarita, supposedly hidden from the world on the island (mostly from Anastacio Somoza, the dictator), and how he would write his poems sitting on the rocky coast, staring dejectedly out at the sea.
Like most of the hearsay about the rich and famous, everyone has their own favorite version, and each tells the story in their own manner. In Grandfather’s case, it is absolutely impossible to conceive, that he could be left behind in this question at hand… He had his own particular interpretation to share on the subject. What it lacked in authenticity, he made up with his personal, entertaining, and categorically original style. When I was still a little girl, I heard Grandfather tell his story, always from his own very particular point of view. On these various occasions, I definitely enjoyed his gestures, the faces and grimaces he used, that so artfully conveyed that deep sense of humor of his.
Versión en español In the land of volcanoes’ Chapters Purchase the book