The Portrait of El Viejo

He was a handsome fellow, with thick, shoulder-length hair and a long beard, and he smiled when I came into view. Suddenly, I had the greatest urge to draw him.

By Guillermo Yuscarán
It was hot and sultry and the plaza was crowded when they arrived in the mid-afternoon. In one corner of the square, a group of Salvadoran soldiers stood chatting quietly, the cold steel of their rifle barrels gleaming in the sunlight. Unbeknownst to the brothers, a recent border skirmish with Honduran military personnel had created a mild stage of alert along the frontera. While Valentín Velásquez disappeared into the village to take care of business (the buying of seed from a friend), his sons sat in the shade to wait for him. Fausto pulled a knife and a piece of wood from his pocket and started to whittle, while Toño watched a group of musicians across the plaza setting up to play. Beside them, a gathering of teenagers stood in a semi-circle around an old man. Curious, Toño went over to investigate.

"It was an art class," Toño later explained, "all of them working on a portrait of that old man. He was a handsome fellow, with thick, shoulder-length hair and a long beard, and he smiled when I came into view. Suddenly, I had the greatest urge to draw him. I hailed Fausto and we ran into the town and found a pulpería (small store) where I bought a pencil and several sheets of paper. I talked the proprietress into giving me a piece of cardboard and some tape so that I could attach the paper. She asked me why I wanted it and when I told her, she suggested we be careful. 'Why?' I asked. 'Because you are catrachos (Hondurans).' We thanked her and returned to the plaza."

"Not wishing to be conspicuous, particularly in view of her warning, I stood off to the side to draw while Fausto shielded me from the view of the art class. In a short time, I had sketched what I felt to be a nice likeness of the viejo. I was on the verge of offering it to him when the art teacher appeared with a policeman who asked for our identification papers.

"We said we were Hondurans from Caridad and that we were waiting for our father. That's when the officer said I would have to go with him."

"'But why?' I asked.

"What you are doing is illegal."

"While Fausto ran off to find my father, I went with the officer and the art teacher. I hadn't realized that there were border problems and that they intended to take advantage of the situation in hopes of forcing a fine upon us. I protested, but they didn't listen; maybe they didn't understand me."

"By the time my father got there, it was getting dark. He was angry with the police but he remained composed, and he convinced them to let us go, without a fine."

"It was too late to start back so we went to a pensión and rented a room where I hung my drawing on the wall. We hadn't been there twenty minutes when the owner of the pensión came to tell us that someone was waiting for us in the office. It was the art teacher and he wanted to buy my portrait of the viejo! I was amazed! I looked at my father but he remained silent. So I told the man, no. And they left."

"Ten minutes later, they came back and he offered me forty colones (Salvadoran currency).

"'I'd rather burn it,' I murmured."

"'What did you say?'"

"'He said he'd rather destroy it,' my father interjected, glowering at the man."

"The policeman was getting impatient. 'If you try and take the drawing out of El Salvador,' he said, 'the border guards will seize it.'"

""Mira,' the teacher persisted, 'I'll make it sixty colones; how does that sound?'"

"I looked at my father and he nodded."

"That night we spent the money on carne asada with mondongo and lots of tortillas and mantequilla. My father even let Fausto and me sip some guaro. We listened to music and stayed up late. I still remember that old man's face. I remember me and Fausto and my father that night, laughing." (1/4/12) (painting by José Antonio Velásquez courtesy Internet)

Note: The author is a North American writer and artist in Honduras, living part of the time in the town of Tela and the other in Santa Lucia. He is originally from California. His books include "Beyond Honduras: Tales of Tela, Trujillo, and Other Places", "Blue Pariah: Inside Honduras", "Canto al Mar: Canto to the Sea", "Conociendo a la Gente Garifuna", "El Dia de la Cruz", "Gringos in Honduras: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly", "Juan Felix Sanchez: Journey to the Andes", "Northcoast Honduras: Tropical Karma, and Other Stories", "Points of Light: Honduran Short Stories", and "Velasquez, the Man and His Art". His latest book is "Dream Journey". Purchase inquiries can be e-mailed to This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .