Niños Tontos

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Los Niños Tontos
by Ana María Matute

We have been reading short stories in Spanish class from the book, Los Niños Tontos, by a famous Spanish author, Ana María Matute, which is one of her more well known and popular works. This collection of short stories about “stupid” children (as the title translates). One of my favorite short stories is Polvo de Carbón (Coal Dust). Similar to the rest of the (extremely) short stories, this particular story highlights with poetic imagery, the foolishness or naivety of a young child and disaster that can come of it. A heart-wrenching, punch in the stomach.
This is the story:

The girl had charcoal black powder on her forehead, hands and inside her mouth. She stuck her tongue out to see it reflected in a shard of mirror that hung on the latch of the window, watching the palate at the back of her mouth; it seemed a little burnt chapel. The girl opened the faucet which always rattled, even if it was closed; there was a slight pearl. The water came out strong, like a thousand crystals cascading against the stone pile. The girl opened the faucet on the days when the sun shone and the water, for the water trickled down into the stone basin. One night, she woke up because she heard the moon touching the window. She jumped up abruptly from the mattress and went to the stone basin, which often reflected back the black faces of charcoal. All heaven and the earth were full and dark, smeared with black dust that seeped under doors, through the cracks of the windows, that killed the birds, getting into their silly mouths that opened like burnt chapels. The girl looked at the moon with great envy. “If I could reach the moon, ” she thought. “If I could wash my face with the moon, and teeth, and eyes.” The girl opened the tap and, as the water rose, the moon sunk down, down, to duck inside. Then the girl did the same. Tightly hugging the moon, she clung, the morning saw the girl at the bottom of the tub.

Original Spanish Text:
La niña de la carbonería tenía polvo negro en la frente, en las manos y dentro de la boca. Sacaba la lengua al trozo de espejo que colgó en el pestillo de la ventana, se miraba el paladar, y le parecía una capillita ahumada. La niña de la carbonería abría el grifo que siempre tintineaba, aunque estuviera cerrado, con una perlita tenue. El agua salía fuerte, como chascada en mil cristales contra la pila de piedra. La niña de la carbonería abría el grifo del agua los días que entraba el sol, para que el agua brillara, para que el agua se triplicase en la piedra y en el trocito de espejo. Una noche, la niña de la carbonería despertó porque oyó a la luna rozando la ventana. Saltó precipitadamente del colchón y fue a la pila, donde a menudo se reflejaban las caras negras de los carboneros. Todo el cielo y toda la tierra estaban llenos, embadurnados del polvo negro que se filtra por debajo de las puertas, por los resquicios de las ventanas, mata a los pájaros y entra en las bocas tontas que se abren como capillitas ahumadas. La niña de la carbonería miró a la luna con gran envidia. “Si yo pudiera meter las manos en la luna”, pensó. “Si yo pudiera lavarme la cara con la luna, y los dientes, y los ojos.” La niña abrió el grifo y, a medida que el agua subía, la luna bajaba, bajaba, hasta chapuzarse dentro. Entonces la niña la imitó. Estrechamente abrazada a la luna, la madrugada vio a la niña en el fondo de la tina.

There may be some “weird” spots in my translation; it is not a direct translation, and much of the story is very “poetic” so that even in Spanish it is hard to understand. So I apologize beforehand if the translation is not perfect. I have been studying Spanish for almost six or so years, as English is my first language. My teacher had us, as a small mini project, create an image of one of the scenes from some of the many short stories we had read in Los Niños Tontos. We had to do it on printer size and could use traditional markers, colored pencils, paint, or graphic design and Photoshop. We could even just find clip art (for the less “artistically talented”). I choose the latter. I sort of just threw some images together.

Polvo de Carbón

It is a sad story, I must say. Although the text doesn’t directly say what happened, one can infer that the little girl drowned because she wanted to hug the pristine, white moon. She yearned to be clean; something that could never be, because of where she lived: in a coal yard. So short, but so strong.

Tags: Art, Literature, People, Stories
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