Corote and the lost dentures

Leonardo de Barros

The old Pantanal hand had been hard at work for days. His main goal was to earn some money and fix his “keyboard.” The few teeth he had left made it hard to eat—and to charm the ladies.

The needle at the dentist’s office hurt. The old ranch hand endured every kind of torture. In the end, he was crowned with gleaming dentures. His new smile showed off a set of ivory-colored keys. He could tear through the fatty meat of an old Pantanal cow with ease.

Corote worked twice as hard; he had to pay for that new keyboard. His new look had won Floriza over. The expenses kept piling up.

Up before dawn and working until he could no longer see, he needed the job to cover the dentures and the little gifts for Floriza.

The chainsaw broke down just before dark. He woke his nephew Ancelmo at the neighboring ranch, and they set off for Rio Verde without sleeping. Corote had to return with the chainsaw working so he could get on with the job.

Dawn was almost breaking when the old Pantanal hand stopped telling his tales. Ancelmo fell asleep, and the Toyota Bandeirante careened down an embankment. Then the worst happened: Corote smashed his mouth against the console and cracked those gleaming dentures clean in half. Disaster!

Pantanal resilience knows no bounds. The old ranch hand climbed out through the window of the Toyota, let out a laugh and, with gaps in his keyboard once again, said: “Buckle up—it’ll get better before long…”

My people of the Pantanal!