Pajarillo, Pajarillo
Artist
The Alternative Press
Artist
Lolita Hernandez
Datec. 1993
MediumLetterpress on paper
DimensionsPaper Size (folded): 9 × 6 in. (22.9 × 15.2 cm)
Paper Size (unfolded): 9 × 12 in. (22.9 × 30.5 cm)
ClassificationsPrint
Credit LineGift of Gary Eleinko, 2023
Object numberUAC7451.11
DescriptionLetterpress printed poem on paper by Lolita Hernandez, titled "Pajarillo, Pajarillo".Letterpress printed drawing by Sherry Hendrick.
Pajarillo, Pajarillo
(A movement from the fictional story This Is Our Song for Today)
If she put her ear up to the line after each engine passed
her station, she could hear a faint chirp. At first she thought
it was one of the many birds who became trapped inside and
flew frantically from high in the rafters looking for a way out,
but of course, they rarely found one. There was no way out up above
the lines. Only at the edges of the entire floor were there windows
but if a little bird could figure that out by flying low and straight
to the perimeters of the first floor, then it would have to worry
about passing through all the machinery in the cam department
or all of the lines and washers in the block department. Even if
it reached as far as the head line, things were so thick over there
who knows what could happen to a little bird. There was a wall
that extended for a good part of number one line that seperated
it from the rest of the department , making things cramped.
Everyone knew that little birds tended to become trapped in the
half-block area, hovering over it until they found a safe ledge
hopefully away from the line of piston trays that came from the
second floor to the piston-checking station. When a bird was no
longer seen everyone hoped that it had escaped through the
loading-dock area, but knew that the bird had become weak and
hungry and fell into the line and was carried away by the links
in the conveyor to the pit underneath. She figured that at change-
over, every year at the beginning of summer, when the cleaners
removed the sludge build-up under the line, they must see a
bushel or two of dead oily birds.
After spending two more months on her job, she began to
think that maybe the chirps were an echo from the real birds
flying above her. She would look up every time she heard a
chirp but could see no bird. She concluded that the chirps arose
from the spirits of the birds whose bodied dropped off the con-
veyor at her section because the sludge had lost its hold on them.
They were calling out to her. No one else heard chirps in the
line. She began to sing to them softly pajarillo, pajarillo, que
bonitos ojos tienes and a bird would answer back with a chirp.
Sometimes she would jiggle her timing chain over the line be-
cause she thought the jingling was a little like their muffled
chirping. Lastima que tenga dueno.
She worked her eight hours with her head bowed and lean-
ing into the line in order to not miss any chirps. For this reason
she had developed few friends in the factory. No one came to
visit where she worked because she gave the appearence
of being a loner or of being afraid of people. However, her co-
workers didn't consider her arrogant because her stooped, rounded
shoulders and her bowed head ( even when she was away from
the line walking to the bathroom or getting a cup of coffee from
the machine) made her look humble. Many of them realized
that she was just plain shy and also that she didn't speak much
English. Her smile, when she cocked her head to respond to a
greeting, was wide and toothy in order to convey her genuine
love of people.
She had learned the song from her mother who died many
years before in her home town of Agualeguas, Mexico. Her mother
had sung the same few words (nada mas) when washing the
dishes or espcially when making the tortillas. Pajarillo, parajillo.
Que bonitos ojos tienes. Lastima que tenga dueno. She thought
then that her mother should get tired of singing the same tune,
the same words over and over but it was a good thing because
now it is the only song of her mother's she can remember and
the words are firm in her heart and she had almost forgotten
about the song until the first time she heard a chirp in the line.
Published by The Alternative Press, Issue Number Nineteen.
