My Father's Archives #8

Today's story illustrates the sagacity and savvy spirit of the "sertanejo", the very special type of people who inhabit the "sertão", the poorest and driest region of Brazil.
When my parents met the lady pictured in today's blip, she was already over 80 years old and very poor. But everyone who knew her respected and admired her for having had and for having survived a personal encounter with Lampião, the most violent and feared outlaw of the Northeast in the 1920's and 1930's. 
When this woman was in her 20s and 30s, she owned one of the biggest farms in the region and was said to store bars of gold in her house. When Lampião and his gang of 40 bandits heard about her riches, they thought they'd give her an opportunity to share her wealth with them.
When they rode up to her farm, she was already waiting for them. "What do you want?" she asked the men.
"We want your gold", said Lampião.
The young and good-looking lady mustered the outlaw from top to bottom and then answered with a seductive smile: "I won't give you my gold. But I can give you my love."
What followed were seconds of complete silence in which everybody seemed to evaluate the impact of these words on Lampião - and on Maria Bonita. 
Lampião always rode with his wife, Maria Bonita (Pretty Mary), a woman as evil and as cruel as the rest of the gang. and Maria Bonita immediately realized the risk she was running of having to share her man with another woman. 
Obviously she could have simply killed the lady. That would have restored her position of exclusivity in the life of Lampião forever and sent a very clear message to anyone who'd think of attempt a similar attack on her possession. But that option didn't even pop up in her head. All she wanted in that moment was to see her man as far away as possible from that lady that had offered herself so shamelessly to her man. She knew how weak a man's heart is. So, without thinking twice, she announced with a voice that made everybody tremble: "Lampião, we're leaving. Now!"
To reinforce her words, Maria Bonita pointed her gun vaguely in the direction of Lampião's groins. 
Nobody said a word. Silently the entire gang turned their horses around and trotted off. 
And that's how I learned that love beats crime. 
 
(A few years later, Lampião and his gang were betrayed by a gang member. They were ambushed, killed and decapitated. Maria Bonita was the only one who lost her head while still alive.

And the rich lady went on to loose all her gold and property to men who weren't worth a penny and to her passion for gambling.)


PS: From now on I "My Father's Archives" will be published on Sundays.for the simple reason that I have more time to concentrate on this very beautiful and difficult thing that is the English language.


PS2: Thank you all for the encouraging comments on yesterday's blip. I'm feeling better already. I just needed a day of revelling in negativity (keeping up my normally very positive outlook on life can be very tiring).