This is my translation of “El Diente Roto”, by Pedro Emilio Coll. He wrote it in 1890 and was read by several generations of Venezuelan elementary school students. It predates “Being There” by 80 years.
At age twelve, Juan Peña was fighting with scoundrels when a stone was thrown at one of his teeth. The blood washed the dirt off his face, and the tooth broke in the shape of a sawtooth. That day began Juan Peña’s “golden age”.
With the tip of his tongue, Juan touched relentlessly at the broken tooth; his body immobile, looking at the void, thinking of nothing. So, the troublemaker and quarrelsome boy became quiet and peaceful.
Juan’s parents, tired of hearing complaints from neighbors, non-residents and victims of the boy’s perversity, had exhausted all kinds of reprimands and punishments, and were now astonished and anguished by Juan’s sudden transformation. Juan didn’t jape, and remained in hieratic pose for hours, like in ecstasy; meanwhile, in there, in the darkness of his closed mouth, the tongue mindlessly stroked the broken tooth.
“The child isn’t well, Pablo”, complained the mother to her husband, “We must call a doctor.”
The doctor came and gave this diagnosis: good pulse, red checks, excellent appetite, no sign of illness.
“Madam”, the wise man finally said after a long examination, “the sanctity of my profession imposes upon me a duty to tell you…”
“Tell me what, my dear doctor?”, interrupted the distressed mother.
“Your son is in optimal health. What’s undeniable”, he continued in a mysterious voice, “is that we are in the presence of a phenomenal case: that son of yours, my dear madam, suffers from what we call ‘the thinking malady’; in one word, your son is a precocious philosopher, perhaps a genius.”
In the darkness of his mouth, Juan stroked his broken tooth carelessly.
Family and friends echoed the doctor’s opinion, received with incredible glee by Juan’s parents. Soon, all the town was talking about the admirable “prodigious child”, and his reputation grew as a paper bag filled with hot air. Even his school teacher, who had had him for the most idiotic person on the globe, submitted to the general opinion, considering that the people’s voice is God’s voice. More or less, everybody had an example: Demosthenes ate sand, Shakespeare was a shabby urchin, Edison… and so on.
Juan Peña grew surrounded by open books in front of his eyes, books he didn’t read, distracted with his tongue busy touching the little saw of his broken tooth, thoughtlessly.
As his body grew, his reputation as a judicious, wise and “deep” man spread, and everybody praised his wonderful talent. Being young, the most beautiful women tried to seduce him and conquer that superior soul, devoted to profound meditations, at least in everybody’s eyes. But inside his mouth, he was playing with his broken tooth and the tip of his tongue.
Years passed, and Juan Peña became deputy, academic and secretary of government, and he was about to be elected president of the nation when an apoplexy surprised him while he was touching his tooth. The bells rang in his name, and national mourning was declared. One speaker cried during his eulogy; and roses and tears fell over the tomb of the great man who hadn’t had time to think.
