CAMAGÜEY.- "I made my own yoke," says a proud Anastasio, a peasant who has not few words while speaking. He is very good at conversation; he enjoys it, no matter what the intrusive tape recorder is.

"I've never handed myself with cattle, I don't even know how to fence in a calf, but the blows of life and necessity force one to do inconceivable things. I used to be a bread deliver, then I was out of work and I asked then for a piece of land. I worked so hard to prepare it and sow it that one day, tired of aiming for the tractors, I said to myself: 'this can be solved with oxen'.

"My brother-in-law gave me an animal and I bought the other one. They were very young. I team them bit by bit. This is a job that takes a lot of patience. I named them Parrandero and Bailador because I liked parties and for whatever 'celebration' was invented, they would take us in the cart. Do I take care of them? Sure, more than my wife, for you to know. They are the ones who have given me everything," he says as he caresses the heads of two animals that show off their owner's dedication. The sturdy, calloused fingers, weathered by hard work in the fields, don't seem to be just 41 years old.

"In the furrow we understand each other as if we were three of the same species. I caress them, I walk close to them and they have never girdled me. They work at the pace I want, and they understand me. When they leave the path, I show them – how to come in - and they do it. If I say 'tao' they turn left, 'iet' they turn right, 'teza' they turn back and 'sifff' is to start working.

"I don't feel alone while I work, I talk to them, I encourage them, and I let them know when we are finished. I never use the sting, nor do I rush them; I respect their pace and when I am tired I lie down in the wagon on a line and they go home alone. The animal does not reason but with love and attention it is something else. I am sure that if I mistreated them and beat them, they would run away from me when I was near them. It's like a flower, if you don't take care of it, it withers. They are part of my family, along with my three daughters and my wife.

"In the little farm (named Yamilka and belonging to the Niceto Pérez credit and service cooperative of Vertientes) they help me break up the soil, plough and cultivate. I have many implements made by me: a small shovel, a triple shovel and others. I do everything with old chopper discs and prepare them depending on the work I want to do. It also serves me as a means of transportation.

Thanks to Parrandero and Bailador, Anastasio Domínguez González, known by all as El Gringo (a nickname he acquired from an adventure character when he was a child) keeps the two hectares of land planted. Now he is planting tomato, beans and corn. With what he produces he guarantees food for his people and contributes to the feeding of the village.

"Working with the oxen has many advantages: if a rainstorm falls, the tractor cannot enter because it squeezes the soil and makes a 'bog', it can even ruin the crop, but the ox does not, besides, it does not use oil or gasoline, only a piece of rope and food. That's very important," assures El Gringo, while he carefully adjusts the yoke (the wooden device that joins them together). "I put chocks on them using old thongs to make them comfortable, it's like one who can't walk with a stone in his shoe," he says as he affectionately slaps them, as he does his close friends, the “buddies”.

Translated by Mariam Heredia(Student)

Reviewed by Linet Acuña Quilez