My meeting with Che Guevara
I'm not one given to prying, but when Che Guevara dropped in last night, I just couldn't help myself. At first I was taken aback and left him standing in the doorway while I took in the sight before me. His resemblance to so many of his portraits was unmistakable.
He was about my height but slighter of figure, and while I had come to the door dressed in my pyjamas, Che was in mufti. Atop his head, at a rakish angle, was his signature black beret, which set off the fronds of his charcoal beard. Between his broad lips glowed a hand-rolled cigar.
"Aren't you", I said, "Che Guevara?"
I am indeed.
"And you're not dead?"
Do I look it?
"No. I suppose not ... But didn't you, eh, 'expire' a few years back?"
Asthma. It's plays havoc with the breath. I'm forever running out of puff.
"I see."
So I have to rest up for a time. Get my wind back, so to speak.
"Take a breather."
Exactly.
"Lasting 30 years."
Now that wasn't my idea. I get that all the time: "Che. Where ya been?" I'll have you know I've been workin' my arse off since Bolivia. It's just that I've become more the quiet achiever.
"Doing what, may I ask?"
Doing what I'm doing now. Invite me in for cris'sake and I'll tell you.
I'd completely forgotten that we were still talking on the doorstep. I stepped back and gestured for Che to walk through to the lounge.
"Take a seat. But our house is a smoke free zone. So if you don't mind, could you put out that Havana?"
Ah, shit! That's another thing I get all the time.
"Times change, Che."
Yes, and the more they change, the more they stay the same.
"I'm sorry. I don't quite follow you."
Well, compañero — I may call you that, may I?
"Compañero is fine."
Good. We're getting along fine, aren't we? I knew when I knocked on your door that you'd be the type we've been looking for.
"Type! You're not going to try and sell me something? Che earrings or something?"
God forbid! No.
"And you're not a born again psalm singer? Because if you are ..."
Settle down, compañero, settle down. Look at me. What do you see?
"Ernesto 'Che' Guevara."
Who is?
"Dead."
No. No. Besides that?
"I see you."
Who is?
"Che Guevara."
Yes, of course. That's bloody obvious. But what if I turned my head like this and the light catches me just so ... ? Do you see it now?
"Well, I'll be! It's uncanny."
It is, isn't it?
"Che! Your face. It's the face of revolution!"
You see. I told you that I never died.
By Dave Riley