Maffo, your footprints evoke the smell of gunpowder, tears, sweat, energy, in any corner of your existence, because our memory never departs from its children.
Year after year, it rains fleeting and accurate glances in an irregular urban structure that grows with time. Smiles, words, gestures, the smell of romance, of burials, of work invade the space. There seems to be no end to it.
Streams and ravines, streets and dusty roads, converge in a uniform park, on whose benches you bump into friends, colleagues, families, strangers, legendary characters…; in complicity or in silence.
An obelisk of perpetual souls revives its acquaintances regardless of the place. La Pelúa, Las Lajitas, La Graciana, La Gloria (Timbale), Blanquizal, El Hormiguero, Mije, El Guineo, Maibío, Moscú, and Nuevo Bijagual, are grateful for your prodigal life, tinged with rebellious combat and progressive spirit.
Lovers of the past come to the park of Maffo to relive the human cure of the apothecary Luzon; the light of the teaching of the Fabra teacher or the Montero sisters, of the telegrapher Monguito with his period communications; and even of the merchant Sardina, its rightful owner.
In this expressive space, common faces such as Llama, Fuinga, Cheche, Selena, come to make the passers-by laugh with their eloquence, mischief and mischief. They look for the exact minute to venerate Felix, the fat one, or Andres, old soap; mythological beings in the sepulcher.
Maffo and its San Jose
Maffo, your San José, is the tradition that distinguishes you and invites you to the revelry, to the popular parranda, in reverence to its patron saint, whose park gives hospitality to all its participants who show what they feel with their visit.
Both the dawn and the sunset receive in the “sacred square” its people of trade; the man of the hoe, the factory worker, the literate woman, the tireless housewife, the jubilant retiree, or the child who wakes up, with a well-defined dictionary in their daily lives.
Greetings, diverse conversations intertwine to follow the path with pride that you were the town that gave birth to what is Contramaestre. Your irregular figure transcends under your bed, where dexterous hands ensure survival.
All year long we remember you from any corner, wherever we are, no matter the time, the occupation, the commitment, the decision, because here or there, your lovers are faithful to your existence.
Whites, blacks and mestizos is the mixture that revives your foundations, where the history of the former BANFAIC; of an illustrious guerrilla Olo Pantoja, shakes different generations.
Your magic or charm catches the short or educated verb, those who are in distant places, those who saw you emerge under the intrepid combat to open the way to the united advancement; in short, all of us who contemplate you from the corner as this journalist.
Today, to children and lucky adoptive ones, there is no room in their chests for so much love for Maffo, their motherland. Although we are so much on your horizon, it distinguishes you above all, making the difference, thanks to the established neighborhoods that flourish and converge in your park, to make Maffo, a unique land.
