May 20, 1968
Hello from Barro Negro! My name is Fabia DeLuca, I am 17 years old, and I live on my parents sugar plantation. I am in my 3rd year of secondary school, and I can’t wait to leave these mountains as soon as I graduate. There are 17 kids in my school, and I only like 3 of them. Once, I visited my brother at the University of Buenos Aires, he goes to class in big, beautiful buildings, and has thousands of classmates. His friends are from all across the country, and he almost never wants to come home to boring old Barro Negro anymore. He will be a Doctor in two years, and he has better things to do than watch our fathers sugar grow.
My days are long and boring. My only responsibilities are some chores, and school, but school is very easy now. I should not have to do chores, we have a maid, but my mother thinks that it’s good for me to do work around the house, I think I would be fine without them. My mother is always worried about bringing me up properly, because she is a school teacher. She told me to keep this journal to practice writing, but I don’t think I will show it to her. I will read it and remember my childhood, once I am a successful lawyer in a big city. My father wishes that one of his children would stay in Barro Negro so that he could rest easy knowing his land would always be worked. He is proud of his sugar, and the soil that gives him such a good crop. The town is named after its beautiful soil. My grandfather invested his fortune in the land, and retired on it. He had worked on a farm once in Lucca, Italy, where he was born, but he said this place was special. He loved to talk about how the volcano across the river erupted, giving us beautiful soil, and making every crop grown in the town healthy and strong. But unless you want to grow sugar your whole life, this place isn’t good for much else.