Lealtad: cara a los ojos del Perro y del Hijo del Hombre

Ke ondita mis keridos lectores. Tras larga ausencia, he vuelto de las tierras de mas alla de los mares...he vuelto y soy igual, aunque un poco diferente...he vuelto...
En esta ocasion kiero compartirles una historia de lealtad y fidelidad, muy admiradas en el lejano oriente. Esta es la historia de Hachiko el Akita, el perro ke conmovio a toda una nacion. Una historia verdadera.

El perro Akita de pelaje blanquecino, llamado Hachiko, nacio en noviembre de 1923, en la provincia que dio nombre a su raza. Pocos meses despues de su nacimiento, el pequeño "Hachi" como se le llego a llamar, fue llevado a la casa del profesor Eisaburo Uyeno, en Tokio. Rapidamente se hicieron amigos. Cada mañana, Hachiko acompañaba a su amo a la estacion de tren en Shibuya. Uyeno enseñaba en la Universidad Imperial, y Hachiko se habituo a ver a su amo partir. Cada tarde, Hachiko regresaba a la estacion de tren, y cuando Uyeno descendia del tren, siempre encontraba a su perro esperandole, agitando felizmente la cola al momento en que veia a su dueño y amigo.



El par continuó con su rutina diaria hasta mayo de 1925, cuando Uyeno no regreso en el tren de esa tarde. El profesor habia sufrido un infarto en la universidad aquel dia. Murio y jamas pudo regresar a la estacion de tren, donde su amigo lo estaba esperando.
Hachiko fue dado en adopcion tras la muerte de su amo, pero rutinariamente se escapaba, aparenciendo una y otra vez en su vieja casa. Despues de un tiempo, Hachi aparentemente se dio cuenta de que el profesor Uyeno ya no vivia en esa casa. Asi que fue a buscar a su amo a la estacion de tren, a donde lo habia acompañado tantas veces en el pasado. Cada dia, Hachiko esperaba a que Uyeno regresara. Y cada dia que pasaba, no veia a su amigo entre los transeuntes de la estacion.
La permanente presencia de Hachiko en la estacion de tren atrajo la atencion de otros usuarios. Muchos de los que frecuentaban la estacion de Shibuya habian visto a Hachi y al profesor Uyeno juntos cada dia. Dandose cuenta de que Hachiko esperaba en vigilia por su amo fallecido, sus corazones se conmovieron. Le llevaban bienes y comida a Hachiko para apoyarlo durante su espera.
La noticia de la remarcable lealtad de Hachiko eventualmente se esparcio fuera de Tokio, y se convirtio en una figura iconica en Japon. Una estatua de Hachiko forjada por el escultor Ando Teru fue eregida en la estacion Shibuya en 1934, donde Hachiko habia esperado el regreso de su amo cada dia por cerca de 10 años. Durante ese tiempo, el habia sufrido de varias enfermedades, los estragos callejeros y habia contraido gusanos del corazon. Y apesar de todas las dificultades que se le sumaban, el continuaba esperando a su amo...



El 8 de marzo de 1935, Hachiko se recosto para morir en el mismo punto donde habia pasado toda una decada esperando cada dia a que Uyeno regresara a casa. Sus huesos fueron enterrados junto a los de la tumba de su amo. El luto de su muerte fue llevado por toda la nacion.
La escritora y viajera Cheri Sicard escribio sobre un hombre que encontro un dia ante la estatua de Hachiko en la estacion de tren en Shibuya. "Durante mi ultima visita a la estatua de 'Hachi' me encontre con un anciano que pasaba para mostrar sus respetos. Me dijo en un ingles quebrado, 'Yo lo conoci. Solia traerle comida'...Despues se acerco a la estatua, le dio una palmadita amistosa, se limpio una lagrima de su ojo y lentamente se alejo"...

A Boy's Tale...

There was once this kid, who had to leave his homeland. He was forced to leave, in some way. He left to go into a journey that led him far beyond the seas.
He went to a new land. Where the sun raised earlier, and the rain used to fall more often, and lasted longer. A land where he met loneliness at it's maximum expression. A place darker than outer space, despite the sunrise. A land where he found new friends to shine life with, to share joy with, to enjoy life with...yet, loneliness was there, deep inside him. Hiding in his doorway, always waiting the moment he closed the door to strike him as an arrow.
And his gaze became grey, like the sky in the rainy nights. Like haunted by the sorrow of all that he has left behind. But some times, in order to achieve our dreams we must let go of somethings, even what we want the most.
Even those we care the most.
How far one must go, it depends only on how bad we want that dream to become true. So he did. In a very special way, he was a monstrous creature. He gave up valuable things, just to achieve what he wanted the most. He would not let anything to stand between his dream an his path. Anything, nor anyone.
So he was there, alone and all on his own, in a new place yet he had friends. Good ones. Yet he felt some times alone. Missing those left behind, he some times sought company, and some times he merged in the crowd just to feel the human warmth else than his own. He sought to be with his friends, and their families; not because he felt part of them, but because the mere scent of family made him remember his own kind, his own people.
And that felt good. It was something he missed, and it hurt having to leave them. His family. His closest friends, friends not only of his own kind but from many species. They were all part of the same.
A family. His family.
But he would see them again. Time shall tell. But that was something he was sure of. But there was one above everyone else he missed the most. One whose name was forbidden to the wind. That one was like a paradox. The source of inspiration and despair.
Like hope. Hope is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of our greatest strength and our greatest weakness. And so was for him, even the slightest thought was lethal, and, at the same time, comforting.
And the kid, far from home, found that what matters in the end, is not what you have, nor where you belong, but what you really are. He came to this conclusion only after finding beneath his own self the courage and the will to do what he had to. The spells and charms, he knew them all, only the power to call them, to cast them was needed. And he found it. He became a hero. He became a story worth telling.
So he lived his life one day at the time, but always taking care of the future, thinking, planning. And of course, keeping in mind the past. For a man's path lies beyond tomorrow, but the background cannot be denied.
And the history became legend. And the legend became myth. But no one now lives to remember it.
His name? He has had many names. Ancient names only the wind and the trees can spell...