It is, you might think, the sort of thing that only happens in the fantastical, colourful world of ”magical reality” conjured up in the stories by the Colombian Nobel prize-winner Gabriel GarcÃÂa Márquez.
But when a Colombian judge rules on Wednesday on whether, more than 60 years after the novelist’s grandfather’s death, he should have his military honour restored and be posthumously elevated to the rank of general, the decision may provoke celebrations across the country.
For Nicolás Márquez MejÃÂa is not just a maternal ancestor of Latin America’s most famous living writer, the author of One Hundred Years of Solitude. He is also the barely disguised model for the hero of one of GarcÃÂa Márquez’s best-known novellas, No One Writes to the Colonel.
In that book, the 75-year-old colonel and his wife wait day after day, despite the decades that have passed, for a letter to arrive that will finally confirm he is to be given an army pension for having fought in one of the country’s civil wars.
The colonel’s tale, set in a decaying, tropical Colombian town, mirrors that of Márquez MejÃÂa, who also waited decades for a much-needed army pension that never arrived. Now a group of GarcÃÂa Márquez’ fans have decided to right the wrongs inflicted on his grandfather, who died in 1937.
”The colonel should have someone to write to him, even if it is in the 21st century,” said José Rafael Cañón, who has helped to bring the case to court.
”First we want the state to recognise his proper status as a colonel. Then we want him elevated to the rank of general of the republic. Up to now he has been treated as a third-class citizen.”
In a phone interview, Cañón said he and three colleagues had spent 18 months gathering proof of Márquez MejÃÂa’s military past after finding documents relating to the case while researching the novelist’s family.
The proof they have gathered includes evidence given at the time by General Sabas Socarrás and Colonel Laudelino Cabello, stating that Márquez MejÃÂa’s had indeed fought with them during the so-called War of One Thousand Days, which erupted in 1899.
”Even though the injustice was committed in another century, it is not too late to right the wrong,” Cañón said. ”I think if we won the case the reaction would be one of jubilation, as it would have total support in Colombia.”
For the moment, the petition is simply for the colonel’s army record to be put straight, including the promotion that would eventually have been automatically due to him.
”We are not asking for any back payment of his pension, but financial indemnification could be asked for at a later date,” Cañón said. ”We would have to consult with the Nobel laureate before we asked for that.”
He said a ruling was expected today, but warned that it could be delayed.
GarcÃÂa Márquez has not been part of the campaign to have his grandfather’s military honour restored, but is believed to be following the case closely.
His grandmother, the colonel’s widow, had tried and failed to reopen the case in 1939, and one of his uncles tried again in the 1950s, also without luck.
GarcÃÂa Márquez, who spent his early childhood living with his grandfather, wrote the novella, one of his first, in 1957.
Victory in the case would provide a final twist to the tale of a man whose fictional counterpart, when asked by his wife what they will eat if nobody buys their last few possessions, replies with just one word, the last in the book: ”Shit.”
The following is an extract from GarcÃÂa Márquez’s novella No One Writes to the Colonel, the hero of which is based on his destitute grandfather
Fruitless wait for a military pension
The colonel took the top of the coffee can and saw that there was only one little spoonful left. He removed the pot from the fire, poured half of the water onto the earthen floor and scraped the inside of the can with a knife until the last scrapings of the ground coffee, mixed with bits of rust, fell into the pot.
While he was waiting for it to boil, sitting next to the stone fireplace with an attitude of confident and innocent expectation, the colonel experienced the feeling that fungus and poisonous lilies were taking root in his gut. It was October. A difficult morning to get through, even for a man like himself, who had survived so many mornings like this one. For nearly sixty years, since the end of the last civil war – the colonel had done nothing else but wait…
His wife raised the mosquito netting when she saw him come into the bedroom with the coffee. The night before she had suffered an asthma attack, and now she was in a drowsy state. But she sat up to take the cup.
”And you?” she said.
”I’ve had mine,” the colonel lied. ”There was still a big spoonful left.” – Guardian Unlimited Â