Pedro deeply resented this change. From the moment he became part of the group of enganchados, the others’ gazes rested on him with an indifference that stripped him of his prestige, his attributes, and reduced him to a thing, a thing that could be put to some use, perhaps, but that had no value in itself.

The enganchados’ entrance into Ciudad Real was a grotesque parade. People came to a standstill, whispering and laughing, when they saw the Indians walking in a single file down the center of the street as if they were afraid of going astray or making any movement, any action not dictated by their guide.

The Indians interrupted the flow of traffic, stumbled into each other, hurting themselves with their heavy leather sandals; they endured the Ladinos’ scrutiny with a discomfiture that exacerbated the townspeoples’ mockery instead of placating it.

Finally they arrived at the enganchador’s office. Waiting their turn, they sat down on the edge of the sidewalk where some of them began patiently examining themselves for lice and rapidly eating the lice they captured.

Each Indian was subjected to an inspection. Their dates were noted down, a photograph was taken of them and their cards were filed away. In that way, the enganchador assured them, he had taken possession of each one’s chulel. And what good would it do them to run away from the fincas, to go off without finishing their job or settling their debts? How far could they go without a soul to sustain them? On the other hand, if they knew how to merit it, the enganchador would give back, at the end of the time for which they were bound, the card that for now remained deposited with him as a guarantee of their good conduct.

Debts, the enganchador had spoken of debts. Winiktón had not expected to hear the word. But Don Remigio Flores repeated it many times: “Listen closely, Chamula; we’re going to tally up our accounts. The minimum salary is seventy-five centavos per day: six reales. That makes twenty-two pesos with one fifty-centavo piece per month. From that I deduct my commission, the advance we give you for travel expenses, the rent on your lodgings at the finca, the price of the machete and the other little things you ask for in the patrón’s store. . . . Add it all up, and the first month you come out behind. Later, if you behave and don’t squander anything on liquor, if you don’t feel like getting new breeches and new sandals, if you don’t need medicine for malaria, then you might catch up a little.”