The Illumination of Santiago: from Chilean Electric

Abstract

The Illumination of Santiagofrom Chilean Electric Nona Fernández (bio) Translated by Idra Novey (bio) Click for larger view View full resolution Illustrations and design by Claire Hungerford. It was a german company, she said. One that had arrived to install the light. There were many workers and technicians who disembarked with cables, light bulbs, and pliers in the Plaza de Armas, the first in all of Santiago to be illuminated. She said the work went on throughout the city for some years. She didn't specify how many, but I guess it was long enough for one of those German electricians to meet a woman and have four Chilean children with her. Two dark-skinned kids with blue eyes, a girl with straight blond hair, and, finally, a redhead. [End Page 59] One night, the mother of the children told them that they were going to the city center. The father had completed a section of his citywide project and they were going to celebrate with a special ceremony in the plaza. The two dark-skinned children, the blond girl, and the redhead set out, walking along the half-dark streets lined with gas lamps, which were lit each day at dusk. The blond girl was holding her mother's hand, she told me. Their shadows lengthened up the walls and across the ground, extending their backs without disconnecting from their feet. Her mother's shadow was small and thin. Her redheaded brother's shadow was in constant motion, darting in front of the others. Hers, tiny with skinny legs, was a shadow so dark that she got scared just looking at it, she told me. It didn't matter how much they hurried or how fast they turned the corners, the shadows were always there behind them, following the same route they followed, stepping on their steps, swallowing each moment as it ended. After a long walk, the girl arrived with her mother and siblings at the Plaza de Armas, where they met up with other women, men, and children waiting to see the spectacle of electric lights. The place was packed. Grandparents sat on the benches and used the cathedral stairs for extra seats. Perched on their fathers' shoulders, kids peered out, straining to see. There were animals, too. Dogs, chickens, and a few mules, she told me. Nobody wanted to be left out. Hundreds of heads and bodies with their respective shadows stood together, expectant, waiting in the public square for illumination. I don't know how things started. I don't remember if she told me. Maybe there was a ceremony, like her mother said there would be. Somebody gave a speech, standing on a dais made for the occasion or on top of the existing cathedral stands. Maybe they talked about progress, a new era, the future about to arrive and present itself that very night, in the penumbra at the center of the city, the belly button of the country. Or maybe there was nothing ceremonial at all and a white-haired German man just counted out loud to three: [End Page 60] eins, zwei, drei. Maybe he hit the switch then, and swiftly, to prevent anyone from seeing how it happened, each of the streetlights installed in the plaza clicking on at once, an act of magic unlike any trick the public had ever witnessed. The people went silent.We stood with our mouths open, she told me.Not even a fly moved, everything was quiet while we stared upat the lit bulbs. The light was much brighter than the flames in the gas lamps. It was all-encompassing and didn't leave anyone out. Intrusive and surprising, it made people's faces appear in the darkness. People in Santiago had never seen each other this way. Under the electric lights, the redheaded brother looked even more redheaded. His hair glowed like an ember in the wood-fed heater they lighted in the winter. The light moved between people's bodies, intensifying colors, shapes, and designs. It grasped onto people's waists, tangled their hair, narrowed their hands, shoulders, torsos, backs. It brought out a new dimension of each...