things that i remember about this short-story:
For RolfCarlé, the most important thing that happens during his days with Azucena is his confrontation with his long-buried memories. For years he has refused to think about the horrors of his own past: having to bury concentration camp prisoners, and living with an abusive father who sometimes locked young Rolf in a cabinet. Throughout his professional life as a journalist, he has taken extraordinary risks, choosing to cover wars and natural disasters and placing himself in danger. Talking with Azucena, he comes to realize that these risks have been attempts to build up his courage so that one day he might face his memories and his fears.
The process of remembering is a painful one, bringing this brave, rugged man to tears. Azucena thinks he is crying because of her suffering, but he tells her, “I’m crying for myself. I hurt all over.” The pain continues long after the girl’s death. WhenCarlé returns home, he has no interest in working, or writing, or singing. He distances himself from everything he loves, including the narrator, and spends hours staring at the mountains and remembering. The narrator understands the process. She knows it will take time “for the old wounds to heal,” but knows also that when the process is completeCarlé will return to her.
Isabel Allende (the writer)
this writing might be useful for people who want a detailed summary of the and of clay are we created
And of Clay Are We Created Summary | Detailed Summary
Her name was Azucena, which meant Lilly. Only her head was showing from the mudpit. Her eyes were open and she called out, mouthing the words silently. She was a victim in a great volcanic tragedy, a tragedy that scientists had predicted but had been ignored by the local populations. Owing to the courage and pugnacity of distinguished reporter, Rolf Carle, Azucena's image was viewed by millions. The author of the short story is Rolf's companion and lover who watches him share the young girl's tragedy. She tries to intervene to help them both.
The geologists knew that the volcano would awaken. They set up their seismological equipment to record the impending eruption. They warned that the ice on the slopes of the volcano could be dislodged and the results could be disastrous for the populations below. However, these people who had lived below the volcano for so long, did not believe them and did not want to change their lives. The villages that scorned their predictions heard a great roar one day from somewhere beneath their cotton fields and were buried in the avalanche of stones and clay that fell on top of them along with the endless flood of molten lava. Twenty thousand human beings were said to have perished along with an infinity of animals. Forests, river disappeared. All that was left was hardened clay soup- mud and the endless bodies floating in it, some dead and some alive.
During the early morning of the tragedy, Rolf Carle is awakened with the author and begins his rapid helicopter flight to the scene of the tragedy. His assistant pans the enormous devastation on the ride there along with his ultimate destiny to wade knee high in the muck and debris with the cries of the lost and wounded. He reported all this in his calm news voice. He is a media professional seldom shaken by the events around him, armored against all tragedy by some strength of mind or heart within him. Rolf Carle was a man noted to report from dangerous places. He was a man who seemed oblivious to difficult surroundings.
He got to Azucena at the beginning and filmed those who found her. He took close-ups of her mud-smeared face and large eyes. Later, others would join in, but at the beginning, it was only Rolf. In his first attempt to rescue her, he threw a rope but she sank when she raised her hand to get it. He tried other things. Finally, he walked into the mud to save her, commenting on the smell of the corpses in the endless mud. He got her to tell him her name. He got them to throw a rope around her, but it didn't work. Was she trapped by the rubble? No, it was partially due to the corpses of the children holding on to her legs. He promised her he would save her.
No matter what Rolf did, he could not pull her out. She had problems breathing. She could not move but Rolf kept trying. Everything he tried caused her excruciating pain. Whatever was holding her had a firm grip on her body. He even tried to dive in the horrible muck but came up coughing gravel. He finally concluded that he needed a pump. They would have to pump the debris away. A doctor said she might live until the morning if she didn't get too cold at night. There were no antibiotics to give to her. She was not really that badly wounded like many others. She was afraid to be alone that evening so he fed her coffee and talked to her throughout the night. He thought of what he could give her if she recovered. He thought of her afterlife beyond the mud.
Meanwhile, Rolf's lover pulled every stop to help the little girl. She called all the great and important people in the country- legislators and army officers, ambassadors; the head of an oil company- anyone, anywhere- just go get a pump. She felt for her and she felt for him. She was drained by her helplessness. No one seemed to care despite her national exposure. Still, while her life was fading away, thousands of volunteers combed through the mud searching for others; families offered help to orphans; doctors begged for anesthesia to lighten their grisly chores freeing the trapped. The clay did its deadly work, contaminating those who were living with the poison of decomposing bodies.
Azucena kept alive during this period. She wasn't trying to be any trouble as she waited. Rolf's beard thickened and the bags below his eyes darkened as he waited. She was simple and humble. Rolf began to forget his assignment and concentrated on comforting her, on saving her- rather than reporting on her. Besides, there were so many others to take up the task. He tried to feed her corn mush but she vomited.
It began to rain. Other reporters came. Thousands of dollars of equipment and dozens of movie and television personnel came to visit her to ask her questions, to televise her now silent lips as Rolf Carle begged for a water pump. As the pictures grew sharper, the author found herself somehow nearer to those two, who now suffered together.
Rolf began to sing her some of the songs he remembered from Austria. They talked to each other. For Rolf, the exhaustion and futility and suffering broke open his past. He told her some of it. He could not tell her when he was led by the Russians to bury the starving dead from a concentration camp. He could not tell her about the ovens where the turned people to ashes or the gallows where they hung them. Nor could he tell how they dressed his mother in a prostitute's shoes and stripped her naked and watched her sob in shame. All that he forgot, all that he repressed came alive again.
He remembered the pain of punishment by his brutal father, the belt that endlessly whipped him. He remembered his sister, Katherena, who he had abandoned and the powerful web of guilt that had engulfed him and prodded him to a courage that somehow buried it all in a tiny flame of danger. For so many years, he stood in a commanding moment of presence that made him forget his past. He began to cry. Not for sweet Azucena but for himself.
When the President of the Republic came to see her, he promised Rolf he would get it for him. Rolf beside the girl for hours but the pump never came. Finally, he knew there was nothing left. He heard her stories of how she had never been loved and told her how much he loved her. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. He experienced a primal love for her. He told her that he loved her more than he loved his mother, his sister or the author herself. He sees her pain and knows she will die. He prays for her death- that it will be swift, like lightening.
Although the author finally found a pump, it did not arrive in time. Rolf stayed with Azucena to the end. When she had passed out of this world, he let her slip into the mud.
The author watches him now. He is alive. He breathes. He functions as a normal man in many ways. However, inside of him, Rolf is not the same. His experience in the mudpit has changed him. He and the author often go to the station and watch the footage of Azucena again and again looking for the magic road to salvation that he had missed. He stares through windows at mountains that cannot answer him. He cannot use his camera any more. He cannot write or sing. Things have changed. His past has now crushed him. The death of the little lily of the clay field has broken him into pieces.
The author is patient. She believes he will heal and they will be together again.
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