Luis Alfredo from Libano
When I open the map to check the way to take from Laprida to Coronel Pringles, I see something that catches my attention. To the West of Laprida and North of Coronel Pringles I find a village called “Libano”, which means Lebanon in Spanish. My grand-father was a Lebanese immigrant and I have been deeply intrigued with anything that connects me to that country. I am too close to the place, I have to check it out. I am very curious about this village in the middle of nowhere. A few miles of beautiful Pampa land borders a surprisingly well preserved road. In the intersection that leads to the entrance of the village, I see a large scale iron sculpture of a gaucho on a horse, done with recycled materials and large white capital letters which form the word: LIBANO.
My Dad and I reach the village which looks deserted at first sight. The roads are empty, the houses seem locked, the background sound: absolute silence. Something particular strikes our attention. All the roads are diagonal, I have never seen that in a village in Argentina. One of those diagonal roads takes us to the main square, a must in every village, but this one has a diamond shape instead. We see a chapel, a school, a kindergarten and a library called “Estrellita de Papel” which means “Paper Star.”
It takes us just five minutes to tour the whole village by car. We haven’t seen a soul. Until, far away, I can see a figure that looks like a man in a yellow top. He is walking in what I believe is his garden. I want to go to talk to him but he suddenly disappears as if he has been swallowed by the earth. Disappointing, but soon after, I see, far away, a motorcycle coming towards our direction. I hail the man on it to stop. Blue overalls, green cap, light-colored eyes, East-caucasian look. Luis Alfredo, 72 years old, with a poised voice and all his time tells us what we ask him, as well as what we don’t.
To my surprise and disappointment, the name of the village does not come from the homonymous country but it was the name of one of its pioneers. Mr Libano and Mr Pontó were the first people to donate land.
Luis Alfredo tells us that he did not have to do the then compulsory military service because it was found out that he had an umbilical hernia. He tells us that he married young and that his wife had an ectopic pregnancy. He took her urgently to the closest hospital but she couldn’t be saved. Both his wife and baby died. Many years later he married another woman with whom he had a son, now aged 28 years old.
Luis Alfredo confirms that he is of Russian German descent, at least this is what he was told. He was a farmer most of his life, he’s now retired but takes carpentry jobs. His wife, who was a teacher, is working as a hair-dresser. His son is one of the drivers at the Municipality. With their two pensions and the three salaries, they just manage to support themselves. But he says: “It’s quite hard.”
And then, the same way he appeared in our lives, Luis Alfredo’s motorcycle disappears in the horizon, along one of the diagonal roads of “Libano.”
November 24, 2019.
