It was not very high, but the funny thing was that he was considered an indigenous more. If skin was nearly white as the Creoles and the particular eyes that were the color of the sky. Some of his sons took out the color of your eyes. He was my Tata Noah, my grandfather, chieftain of the communities of mollebamba and Mollepata. Always working, whether in tilling fields that the comuneros had intended him as well as in the House around your fruit ice-cream maker.
It was what I liked, fruit ice cream, so different and delicious in my few years of life. His favorite sons was my grandfather, his eldest son continued the tradition of their ancestors and married his cousin sister and they had my father. Which was also their favorite, as I was when I was born. She told me my Mamacona Herlinda of how had cried when born bleeding in the eyes. It was for several days over the hills to make your ceremony to their ancestors and Apus to ask me to heal what they had at birth. No wine in one month and return as told my grandmother, I get very emaciated by fasting by his great-grandson most wanted and loved, but happy because the coca leaf had indicated that it was a signal.
The beginning of the era of the condor, legacy that the elect of panakas which was transmitted from generation to generation as a duty know only what. As I remember my grandfather in the largest of the House bedroom, with its maker ice cream, it was brought to her by my ayito, who was also my friend’s games, although the was older, I remember his name or his nickname: Yume Cullie, who save the sacred meaning. I had put him another name: Kabbahlistico, by his walk hunched and silent and I was saying, the child this and that.
