Adan,
Since Pepita’s confession, I find my mind completely mixed, lost within its own thoughts, it struggles for a solution to question that nags me through meals, nags me through sleep, nags me at every step I take.
“I have chosen to kill Lope.”
Why would she tell me? She must mistake my habit for a gag - how can I possibly remain silent regarding this? My vows, my beliefs, everything I have devoted myself to would be as good as smoke. What would even the point of my visit here be? To reveal me a conspirator? An assistant murderer? That I even know is punishment enough!
Pepita’s decision… she could not possibly follow through. No, she is not a woman so out of control and beastly. She is not like Lope! A man like that, so long exposed to a woman like her could not transform her so ghastly, so heinously. Could this really be Pepita?
I go to her room almost every night these past few months. She draws sweeping curves, sharp lines and light shadows, thus creating a lonely, beautiful person alone and nude on what used to be a blank and altogether plain parchment. As she works she hums with a voice so different from the one she speaks with. Usually, she speaks so sardonically, and coolly, yet in that hum she is soft and melodious. Who is this woman and why would she do this? Why would she think to take the life of another man?
And yet…
And yet. Can I call Lope a man? Would a man truly debase himself into a creature that would attack someone of the fairer sex? Would a man bring himself to that, reduce himself so, in order to feel what? Power. Control. Worth. Self-worth! Lope is a soldier, whose power should have been proven in scars, his control in the way his fingers can manipulate a blade, his worth measured by his comrades, and his self-worth measured by what he sees at the end of such a victorious path. Instead, Lope sees power in the way we - the clergy! - shuffle past him, he sees control as a fist, and he sees worth not in how his men measure him but in how he measures up to their previous exploits. And self-worth.
His self-worth has yet to be discovered, thus he hits and brutalizes, attempts to diminish every living thing he meets into something that will fear him, respect him, ultimately do as he prefers lest they suffer his boot.
And I ask myself if helping Pepita exorcise such a demon from her life goes against everything that has brought me here. What if she is part of my coming to this place? That saving her from such a devil’s grip is a task. Is it so insane to imagine that what I would be doing, swearing myself to secrecy, is not as wrong as I first though?
I stood within the corridor, divided from feet were two paths. One would lead me to Father Leoncio, who I would inform probably breathlessly, hastily, tearfully. The other way leads me to Pepita, who I would promise my silence to. That I would stop my words up with liquid lead and cool such into a metal cork so that Pepita’s plan may never be caught by some stray ear.
I take the left corridor, and my steps are slow, not yet ready to yield the next inch to me though I force their progress. So continues such progression, the lead I have depicted to you earlier Adan has dripped into my stomach instead, where a heavy disk forms and settles there, slowing me, fermenting and rotting… a core of self-doubt where my meal used to be. Had I made the right decision? I asked myself this as I lifted my hand to the door, and before I could answer such a burning question, my knuckles had already made contatct.. Over and over again, I knocked. I stopped, I stepped back, and I waited.
Pepita answered the door, and found me with tears in my eyes, and my face pale. She quickly pulled me inside, and shut the portal behind me, bolting it. “Dear Nieve, what is the matter? Are you all right?”
“My heart is so heavy. I am afraid.”
“Sit down, please. Have a drink.”
“No, a drink would simply make me more sick,” I assured her with a nervous laugh, though took the offered seat on the side of her bed. She moved some drawings aside and sat next to me. I had never seen her like this, her face was somewhat concealed and unremarkable… save for her eyes. They were so dark, but in their centers I could see a faint glow, like the last spark of a match before it reaches the end of its brittle stalk. “I have thought about what you said.” Her head lifted into the light of the candles surrounding her bed.
“About… Lope?”
“Yes, Pepita. About Lope.”
“I should not have told you anything…”
“I will not speak of it.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I will keep your secret.” I wept momentarily, tears drove their way down my cheeks, and I had to look away as she watched me so intently. So curiously.
“What changed your mind, Hermana?”
“I want you safe, and I do not think you are safe even avoiding him. The man is a predator, he would seek you out, and I believe end you. I would rather someone like you survive over someone like him. I have tried to change your mind as God would have me beg you, but your decision is yours. I cannot sway your choice, and what is more, I do not think I want to.” I wiped my tears away. “How will you do it, Pepita?”
Pepita stood from the bed. She went to her trunk, and pulled the lid back. A red rag was pulled from its contents. The bundle was cradled in her hands as she approached me again, and settled beside me. I could not take my eyes off her. The candle light was golden and smooth around her skin, the color of which was amber against her white dress and chemise. She was simply startling, and my decision did not seem so wretched.
“I retrieved this from the port the last time I was fetching drugs for Basilio. He is a very particular doctor. He may know one organ from the next, and he may know how to set limbs, but in the end the man cannot keep his papers together. I began to taking down the orders, and I also fetched them from the port. Before my most recent visit, I requested something from the apothecary there.”
She unfolded the rag, and revealed a vile no wider than my thumb, no longer than my ring finger. Inside there was a liquid of a bland color, not quite clear, but not gray, just this hazy yellow in-between that made chills run races up and down my spine.
“The venom of a barba Amarillo, a pit viper.”
I shivered. “What does it do?”
“The victim bleeds profusely, sometimes from his mouth and nose, other times from the bite itself… were he bitten. Blood cannot clot, so it disperses throughout the muscles and the rest of the body, even into the spine. The victim can hardly breathe, and his body will often shock before expiring. It is very painful.”
“Pepita,” I sighed, horrified. Her hands were shaking as she closed the bundle up again and left it on her bed.
“But I do not want to use it.” She folded her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. I saw a tear drop off her face, though I never saw her blink to scattered the welling water in her eyes. The droplets simply fell. “I cannot kill him. I do not think I could kill anyone. My life is devoted to saving people. They may be bastards most of the time,” she wiped her eyes, “but I still must save them. I am sure you understand.”
“Of course.” Oh, what a relief, Adan! My spirits have lifted, I am rejuvenated. Adan, Pepita’s decision changed my entire soul. I embraced her tightly, we were golden together for that moment in the candle light and that was when we heard the loud bang against her door.
“Pepita!” A ragged voice barked from behind the door, which began to buckle and shake under the vigorous pounding it took from the balled fist beyond it. We instantly recognized Lope, and gripped tightly into each other.
Pepita’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You must hide.”
“I will not leave you with him, I cannot.”
“Please,” she dragged me off the bed and pulled me to her amoire. “This is deep enough. Please, stay here.”
“Pepita!” Came Lope’s demand again as he pounded on the door.
“Do not breathe a single sound,” she shut the armoire on me before I could protest. I was on my knees, and through a keyhole I could see her searching her drawings for the poison.
“Pepita!” There was a surge against the door, I could hear the bolt tinkling and ready to give, and just as she found the poison and stuffed it under the pillow, the door flew open. I heard it bash against the wall beside it, and then click shut. “Mmm,” Lope chuckled behind a hacking cough, “your lock is broken.”
“Yes,” I watched Pepita straighten from the bed, her hands sliding into the pockets of her dress’s skirt. “Someone broke in once.”
I heard Lope’s laugh stagger at the back of his hoarse throat, but I could not see him yet. “Funny. I love a funny girl. I love a girl that can make me laugh. You know you make me laugh so much, Pepita.”
“Lope, you look sick…”
“Doctor Basilio Gil,” he sounded drunk too, “says I have some sort of malaise. He cannot identify it, mainly because he is beast.”
“A beast, Lope?”
“You know a beast, right? A beast when you see it.” He shuffled closer, I could see him approaching her now at the bed. “Do you know a beast when you see it?”
“Lope, you have been drinking,” she turned her head away, but he caught her by the mouth and turned her back to him.
“Such a pretty little mouth for such an ugly little dog. You waste your time talking, you should be howling.” He pressed against her, his hands were laid across the front of her hips, and when he flexed his fingers he drew her skirts up. “What do you say?”
I could see the back of his neck, there was a warble there, just like the ones on Carmen’s back. I put my hands over my mouth, I was shaking all over.
“Lope, find me when you are sober,” she caught his wrists gently and began to push them away, “and I will show you just how what a beast is. Yes?”
“Come come. It is a quiet night, one I would make loud with you.”
“Leave me be, Lope, I am far too tired, you are far too drunk - ” And I saw his hand slice across her face in a resounding smack. Her head whipped to the side, she held her cheek, and peered back at him.
“I can get you drunk. I have much that you can drink. You have to be on your knees though,” he gripped her shoulders to push her down, and she shoved him away and made a break for the door. Yes, Pepita, escape! Please, escape! Your door is so close. He lunged out of my field of vision. I heard the door open, and then slam. There were two sets of breathing, both deep. One was strained with sickness, the other frightened and thin. Pepita had not escaped, in fact, I could hear her whisper:
“Please. I want you to leave.”
“I want to stay, and you want me to stay too, you just will not admit. I can convince you if I am wrong. I can convince you one way… or another, or maybe another, or another until we find the way that makes you like me most.”
“I will scream.”
“Then I will snatch out your tongue, and I will break your jaw should you clench your teeth to stop me, should you gnaw on my knuckles so.”
There was movement, I heard him strike her again, and then she must have struck him back because I heard him stagger and snarl.
“You whore,” he seethed, and I watched her stumble away before stopping suddenly, and putting her hands on her chest.
“Stop, stop, stop!” She pled, and drew her body near to his as she began to pull him toward the bed. “Perhaps I have been unfair.”
“Hmph.”
“Perhaps I have been unkind to you,” she took his mouth to hers, rolling her lips across his, and pulling at his trousers, loosening them. “Perhaps I could be sweeter?”
“You angel,” he chuckled derisively, and bit her lip as her hand pressed past the waistline of his trousers. I saw his body folded against her, his teeth gnawing at her shoulder as he tugged her shirt away from this skin. Her arm was pumping slowly, rhythmically.
“You see? I can give you just what you want, but you must go when you are done. Do you understand? Now, break my bed.”
He shoved her to the bed, and he was on her like a beast upon the fawn. He pried her legs apart, he ripped her shirt. I saw her hands raise over her head, fingers slowly stealing away under the pillow. I could not help but pray in the darkness of the armoire that her ruse succeeded. My prayers were not answered, his hands caught her wrists, and fingers flooded over hands beneath the pillow. All movement stopped.
“What is this?” He pulled the vile out from under the bed, and before she could even lunge he had hooked both of her wrists in his one large and free hand. “What a peculiar little trinket this is I have found in your hand. Was this,” he turned his head slowly down to her, “for me?”
Pepita was breathless, speechless. Her once golden form was engulfed in the shadow he poured over her as he bent closer.
“Is this for me? In case I am thirsty? In case I am parched?” He snarled in her face, pouring that sickening breath over her. “Put it in your mouth.”
Pepita’s mouth tore open, her scream short lived as he released her wrists to grip her lower jaw, the crook of his thumb and forefinger pushing between her teeth to force her mouth to stay open. She gagged, her body buckled, and he shoved the vile in her mouth.
“Bite it.”
Pepita tried to scream again, and her fists flew against his face, but he caught both of them again. She managed to spit the vile out, but he caught it off her chest, and forced it in again before controlling her arms once more. He slammed the heel of hand into her chin and I heard a fragile snap. The vile had burst open, and Pepita’s eyes were wide. He snickered, and pushed off the bed to storm from the room. I was immediately out of my hiding place.
I threw the doors to the armoire open just as Pepita had reeled over the bed. She spat out a mass of poison, glass and blood. She spat over and over again, shoved her fingers in her throat to try and make herself vomit. The venom had seeped in though. Soon she was bleeding, and I held her as I screamed for help. I tried to move her out into the hall, but I knew I would not make it into the infirmary. “Someone, please! Help me! Help me, please!” She was twitching, convulsing, and sobbing, reaching for me, and dying in my arms when Father Leoncio found us. The little lights I had seen in her big, dark eyes had gone out, and I saw instead an unending black.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Entry #23
Oh, Adan!
More people have gone missing. Since my last entry, about a month ago, two more have disappeared. We can only presume they are dead. We can never find them. When one search comes to an end, a team of Lope’s soldiers enter the forest to begin yet another. The manner in which these victims are spirited away is so violent. Why, in the village beneath our hill, the last disappearance revealed to Father Leoncio that the victim had struggled, knocking over things in the hut. There were streaks of blood across the floor, and then dragged sweeps of red when the victim was finally taken away. He said he found fingernails lodged in the earth. That and the blood have been the only traces. Who could be doing this? The crimes are too violent to blame an angry predator surfacing from the deeps of the jungle to claim a meal. No, such a terrible and calculated act can only be attributed to a person.
I was later assaulted in my room as I was trying to sleep. There was a rapid knock at my door, the rhythm repetitive and urgent. I drew a robe around me as I rose from bed, and took a candle stick with me. I tucked the object behind my hip, and threw the door open only to find Pepita. Her face was haggard. Her eyes sparkled with tears. I drew my arm around her and tugged her into my room, dropping the candle stick. I locked my door and guided her to my bed.
“Easy, easy.”
I lit a couple of candles, just enough to give me some light. When I saw her face, I could not keep myself from withdrawing a step. No, I recoiled at the sight of her, so aghast was I at the face I hardly recognized. Her cheek was a swollen bruise, ripe and split. Her jaw was a queue of bruises, all waiting to pile up under a swollen, burst lower lip.
“I am sorry, I should not come.”
“Did he see you come here?”
“No,” she shook her head, hardly able to speak.
“You should be at the infirmary. You cannot stay like this. Let us go together.”
But I progress was slow. We had to be sure we were not being watched. A trip that normally only took a few minutes took much longer, but we eventually arrived to the infirmary. I lit a candle by the bed, and Pepita helped me gather some tools. Something to clean her cuts, something to decrease the swell of those bruises. I set to work mending her face. Her tears had started to slow, no longer making her uneven face a slick surface to work on.
“I am finished,” Pepita whispered, and I only heard this upon her second saying of this.
“Do not say that, Pepita. You are not defeated, not by someone like that.”
Pepita laughed, “Defeated?” She lifted her handkerchief to her mouth to spit out a gob of blood. “Who said anything about defeat? I am finished taking this. One of these nights, you know, one of these nights,” she laughed again, “he will kill me.”
“I hardly see the humor in that,” I chastised her lightly, distracted with my repairs.
“Nieve, I am being serious, do not mistake my laughter. It is the laughter of Elektra herself, the laughter of a vengeful woman.”
I frowned at her, I began to clean her wounds with a solution that would normally make someone flinch and pull away, but Pepita was still. Eerily still, her eyes focused on some point beyond my shoulder. Maybe on the vision she was about to describe to me.
“I can let Lope kill me, or I can get rid of him. For good.”
I stopped, I looked at her. “Pepita, you will be jailed for that. He is a man of war, as well, you could be… Lord, I do not wish to think it.”
“I am finished taking his hits, I am finished pleasing him, I am finished doing everything he tells me to do. I want nothing more than to see him suffer for this.”
“Then you are just as wretched as he…”
“Am I?!” Pepita shrilled, pushing my hand away. “Were you to be beaten, pummeled, and raped, would you stand for it as long as I? Would you let that man, that brute of a man, get away with making you his toy? Manipulating you? Would you let him do that, and get away with it.”
For once, I could not say:
“No, Pepita, I would find a way to forgive him.”
“No, Pepita, he will meet his judgment in time.”
“No, Pepita, such power is not ours to wield against a man, only God’s.”
I could say none of this, because I did not believe it.
“You know I am right,” Pepita said, recognizing my hesitance for what it was.
“No!” I stood away from her, dropping the rag I had been using to clean her face. “Such a thing is not so simple as that. I cannot… agree with any of this because I do not want there to be any more death in this mission, or in the village below us. I do not want it!”
“Lope and his men are out of control, they are doing this. They are carrying these people away for their own sick amusements.”
“Do not say that. Such an accusation is too vile, too grave.”
“I cannot let other people get hurt, and I cannot let myself be killed by such a swine.”
“Pepita - ”
“You do not have to help me,” Pepita interjected. “But please… do not tell anyone what I have told you. I will not breathe your name, not a single syllable of it, only do not breathe to anyone what I have come to you with. Can you promise me?”
I shook my head sadly. “Pepita. This is not confession. I cannot hear such an atrocious action and pretend I did not. The Fathers could not either, that is not how this functions, Pepita.”
“You would let a mad man like him live,” Pepita’s voice shook, “a monster, a demon like him…”
“Demons will meet their angels, and they will lose. You cannot mistake yourself for such an angel. You cannot mistake one sin as good compared to another, Pepita, you cannot! You will damn yourself. This is not your decision - ”
“This is my decision, Nieve, this is my choice. I have chosen to kill Lope.”
More people have gone missing. Since my last entry, about a month ago, two more have disappeared. We can only presume they are dead. We can never find them. When one search comes to an end, a team of Lope’s soldiers enter the forest to begin yet another. The manner in which these victims are spirited away is so violent. Why, in the village beneath our hill, the last disappearance revealed to Father Leoncio that the victim had struggled, knocking over things in the hut. There were streaks of blood across the floor, and then dragged sweeps of red when the victim was finally taken away. He said he found fingernails lodged in the earth. That and the blood have been the only traces. Who could be doing this? The crimes are too violent to blame an angry predator surfacing from the deeps of the jungle to claim a meal. No, such a terrible and calculated act can only be attributed to a person.
I was later assaulted in my room as I was trying to sleep. There was a rapid knock at my door, the rhythm repetitive and urgent. I drew a robe around me as I rose from bed, and took a candle stick with me. I tucked the object behind my hip, and threw the door open only to find Pepita. Her face was haggard. Her eyes sparkled with tears. I drew my arm around her and tugged her into my room, dropping the candle stick. I locked my door and guided her to my bed.
“Easy, easy.”
I lit a couple of candles, just enough to give me some light. When I saw her face, I could not keep myself from withdrawing a step. No, I recoiled at the sight of her, so aghast was I at the face I hardly recognized. Her cheek was a swollen bruise, ripe and split. Her jaw was a queue of bruises, all waiting to pile up under a swollen, burst lower lip.
“I am sorry, I should not come.”
“Did he see you come here?”
“No,” she shook her head, hardly able to speak.
“You should be at the infirmary. You cannot stay like this. Let us go together.”
But I progress was slow. We had to be sure we were not being watched. A trip that normally only took a few minutes took much longer, but we eventually arrived to the infirmary. I lit a candle by the bed, and Pepita helped me gather some tools. Something to clean her cuts, something to decrease the swell of those bruises. I set to work mending her face. Her tears had started to slow, no longer making her uneven face a slick surface to work on.
“I am finished,” Pepita whispered, and I only heard this upon her second saying of this.
“Do not say that, Pepita. You are not defeated, not by someone like that.”
Pepita laughed, “Defeated?” She lifted her handkerchief to her mouth to spit out a gob of blood. “Who said anything about defeat? I am finished taking this. One of these nights, you know, one of these nights,” she laughed again, “he will kill me.”
“I hardly see the humor in that,” I chastised her lightly, distracted with my repairs.
“Nieve, I am being serious, do not mistake my laughter. It is the laughter of Elektra herself, the laughter of a vengeful woman.”
I frowned at her, I began to clean her wounds with a solution that would normally make someone flinch and pull away, but Pepita was still. Eerily still, her eyes focused on some point beyond my shoulder. Maybe on the vision she was about to describe to me.
“I can let Lope kill me, or I can get rid of him. For good.”
I stopped, I looked at her. “Pepita, you will be jailed for that. He is a man of war, as well, you could be… Lord, I do not wish to think it.”
“I am finished taking his hits, I am finished pleasing him, I am finished doing everything he tells me to do. I want nothing more than to see him suffer for this.”
“Then you are just as wretched as he…”
“Am I?!” Pepita shrilled, pushing my hand away. “Were you to be beaten, pummeled, and raped, would you stand for it as long as I? Would you let that man, that brute of a man, get away with making you his toy? Manipulating you? Would you let him do that, and get away with it.”
For once, I could not say:
“No, Pepita, I would find a way to forgive him.”
“No, Pepita, he will meet his judgment in time.”
“No, Pepita, such power is not ours to wield against a man, only God’s.”
I could say none of this, because I did not believe it.
“You know I am right,” Pepita said, recognizing my hesitance for what it was.
“No!” I stood away from her, dropping the rag I had been using to clean her face. “Such a thing is not so simple as that. I cannot… agree with any of this because I do not want there to be any more death in this mission, or in the village below us. I do not want it!”
“Lope and his men are out of control, they are doing this. They are carrying these people away for their own sick amusements.”
“Do not say that. Such an accusation is too vile, too grave.”
“I cannot let other people get hurt, and I cannot let myself be killed by such a swine.”
“Pepita - ”
“You do not have to help me,” Pepita interjected. “But please… do not tell anyone what I have told you. I will not breathe your name, not a single syllable of it, only do not breathe to anyone what I have come to you with. Can you promise me?”
I shook my head sadly. “Pepita. This is not confession. I cannot hear such an atrocious action and pretend I did not. The Fathers could not either, that is not how this functions, Pepita.”
“You would let a mad man like him live,” Pepita’s voice shook, “a monster, a demon like him…”
“Demons will meet their angels, and they will lose. You cannot mistake yourself for such an angel. You cannot mistake one sin as good compared to another, Pepita, you cannot! You will damn yourself. This is not your decision - ”
“This is my decision, Nieve, this is my choice. I have chosen to kill Lope.”
Entry #22
Adan,
It has been a week. Class has been cancelled indefinitely. Set is unfound, and the Tairona congregation has severely dwindled. Most of the Tairona have refused to return for services, and because they keep their children close at all times we were forced to close down the school again. Teaching those children was my life, my escape, and it gave me such a great joy. They seemed to love these lessons as well. We could learn so much about one another on any given day and to lose that connection has severely affected me. My diet has become sporadic once more, with moments of light to no eating, anywhere from two very light meals to no meals at all.
What do I do? I have tried so much to snap myself out of this terrible, depressive trance. I garden with Doctor Gil again, harvesting the weeds to be disposed, plucking tomatoes and collecting flowers to brighten up the infirmary. An infirmary now empty of patients who have insisted on being treated back at the village beneath the hill, or the ones in the jungle and along the coast. Pepita draws, and I read in her room, and in a way I enjoy these moments because she is not constantly asking about my health, how I am, how is my state. She just draws, and I just read. The moments are peaceful, but not enough to draw me loose from this miserable state.
Even Father Alvarelo, who usually knows just what to say, is speechless to my behavior. Father Leoncio would probably care more if he was not busy trying to calm the soldiers, all seemingly wild-like now that Lope has assumed control of the squad. Normally, he would have to answer to Captain Gonzalo, stationed on the coast, but with Gonzalo all the way out at the Yucatan, Lope answers to no one. He runs free around the mission, terrorizing the servants with harsh commands, and the violence and depravity he has wrought on Pepita is disgraceful.
The way Lope treats any of us is disgraceful. Just the other day I was taking a batch of dry linens off the lines behind the infirmary. I had them all gathered in my arms and was making my way back into the infirmary when I bumped into the man himself. He stepped away, straightening his shirt and eying me.
“You ought to be more careful, Nieve.”
“I am busy, excuse me.”
“Of course, after you.” He drew his arm out, a long gesture down the garden path that would lead me into the infirmary. I swept by him, and moved quickly down the path. In order to avoid any further, unwanted discussion, I ducked into the infirmary and set to work. I began dressing the beds, all the while keep an eye on the prowling soldier beyond the curtains surrounding the first bed I was working on. He watched me, smirking, some sort of joke known only to him circulating his mind over and over. “You and Pepita have grown quite close, I see.”
I did not answer, I moved onto the next bed.
“Such a relationship is so charming. Tell me, do little girls always whisper big secrets to each other?”
He was speaking oddly. I never knew him to have such an eloquent, cold attitude. He had always been rough, callous, violent, but never possessed such a malicious inquiry. Regardless, I was silent.
“Or are they as coy around one another as you are around me, little Hermana Nieve?”
I never even saw him, just the sudden disturbance of the white curtain. He flanked me, swept me right off my feet and had me on my back. He tilted his head, his nostrils were flared as if he were smelling me, but I could hear no sniffing.
“Answer when you are spoken to, girl?”
Remaining calm was difficult, I believe I was not honestly steady at this very moment. I was shaking in his grip, my eyes as wide as coins so much so I could feel the strain of my startled stare all throughout my perchance pale face. “I am busy…”
“So you say,” he snarled. This close to him, I could see that the change was not just in his voice. His appearance had morphed as well. He was very pale, with dark rings under the eyes now burrowing through my darting gaze. His breathing was rasped and strained, like a man with a heavy cold.
“You are sick, Lope,” I said, feeling the fever pulse off his skin at that very moment. The breath he expelled was even stale and reeked. Had he eaten something foul, or perhaps drank too much wine the night before?
“Indeed, so that is why I am here. There is no doctor though, and no nurse - my sweet little nurse - just you, and I wonder if you might help me. See, my Pepita has been quite stubborn lately. I do not like to be so forceful, but such stubbornness stands in the way of any satisfaction. Before you two began clucking, flapping your chops about so sisterly - sickening, really - I had Pepita lapping me up every night like the good little bitch I had made her.”
I stiffened, he was pinning me further into the bed. His pale face was turning red, and there was excitement to him that I could see in his eyes, and feel through his body against mine. I shut my eyes.
“And now? Now, she hits me so cruelly, she flings the coldest insults you would hear… all because I wanted a little bit of her time, all because she started talking to you. So, Hermana, I will say this once,” he huffed, trying to swallow a fight of hacking coughs to maintain the threatening note in his voice, “and no other time; stay away from her.”
“I cannot - ”
“If I see her speaking to you, if I so much as smell any trace of her on you the next time we cross paths, I will be sure to beat every little bit of you into the wall so that the Fathers will mistake you for mortar. Do you understand? Am I perfectly clear?”
I saw someone from over his shoulder, standing beyond the curtain; Doctor Gil.
“Lope Romero,” he barked, and I saw Lope’s eyes widen. He smiled wickedly at me, and straightened from my person. He pawed at his pants to fix them right again, and adjusted his sleeves so they were rolled around his elbows.
“Doctor Gil. Glad you could finally make it.”
“Perhaps back in the mission and among the hill you are a man who can do what he pleases. As I have the medicine and other tools to make you healthy again, I would recommend you behave yourself whenever you are here.”
“This is none of your business, doctor.”
“Under my roof? The roof I built myself for my practice? Yes, Lope, it is. I say this to you not as a request; you harm no one, and I mean no one.”
“Just fix me up,” Lope barked.
“No, I am afraid our session will have to be delayed until this afternoon. For now, rest and keep drinking water, and I will come to your quarters personally.”
“Hmph,” Lope snarled, and eyed my hatefully before taking his leave of the infirmary. He stalked around the doctor to do so, emerging slowly from the curtains so that the light muslin of them would drag along his broad shoulders. He slammed the door once he had passed the doctor, plunging us into silence. Doctor Gil came to my side with a cup of water shortly after this, and watched me with the utmost concern.
“You mind that man. You seem to have a knack for crossing him, so Father Leoncio tells me. Why not you avoid him for the remainder of your stay?”
I drank the water, panting. “This is my home too. I am not afraid of him.”
Doctor Gil frowned. “You should be. A man like that is not safe. Not for men, not for women. Unless you are some other creature, I would recommend keeping your distance.”
I paused, and I finished my cup. “Yes, doctor,” I murmured, and stood to leave, only to find his fingers wrapped around my wrist, and an imploring glance given up to me.
“And please… tell Pepita as well. I do not think she will listen to me anymore, at least when it concerns a monster like Lope.”
It has been a week. Class has been cancelled indefinitely. Set is unfound, and the Tairona congregation has severely dwindled. Most of the Tairona have refused to return for services, and because they keep their children close at all times we were forced to close down the school again. Teaching those children was my life, my escape, and it gave me such a great joy. They seemed to love these lessons as well. We could learn so much about one another on any given day and to lose that connection has severely affected me. My diet has become sporadic once more, with moments of light to no eating, anywhere from two very light meals to no meals at all.
What do I do? I have tried so much to snap myself out of this terrible, depressive trance. I garden with Doctor Gil again, harvesting the weeds to be disposed, plucking tomatoes and collecting flowers to brighten up the infirmary. An infirmary now empty of patients who have insisted on being treated back at the village beneath the hill, or the ones in the jungle and along the coast. Pepita draws, and I read in her room, and in a way I enjoy these moments because she is not constantly asking about my health, how I am, how is my state. She just draws, and I just read. The moments are peaceful, but not enough to draw me loose from this miserable state.
Even Father Alvarelo, who usually knows just what to say, is speechless to my behavior. Father Leoncio would probably care more if he was not busy trying to calm the soldiers, all seemingly wild-like now that Lope has assumed control of the squad. Normally, he would have to answer to Captain Gonzalo, stationed on the coast, but with Gonzalo all the way out at the Yucatan, Lope answers to no one. He runs free around the mission, terrorizing the servants with harsh commands, and the violence and depravity he has wrought on Pepita is disgraceful.
The way Lope treats any of us is disgraceful. Just the other day I was taking a batch of dry linens off the lines behind the infirmary. I had them all gathered in my arms and was making my way back into the infirmary when I bumped into the man himself. He stepped away, straightening his shirt and eying me.
“You ought to be more careful, Nieve.”
“I am busy, excuse me.”
“Of course, after you.” He drew his arm out, a long gesture down the garden path that would lead me into the infirmary. I swept by him, and moved quickly down the path. In order to avoid any further, unwanted discussion, I ducked into the infirmary and set to work. I began dressing the beds, all the while keep an eye on the prowling soldier beyond the curtains surrounding the first bed I was working on. He watched me, smirking, some sort of joke known only to him circulating his mind over and over. “You and Pepita have grown quite close, I see.”
I did not answer, I moved onto the next bed.
“Such a relationship is so charming. Tell me, do little girls always whisper big secrets to each other?”
He was speaking oddly. I never knew him to have such an eloquent, cold attitude. He had always been rough, callous, violent, but never possessed such a malicious inquiry. Regardless, I was silent.
“Or are they as coy around one another as you are around me, little Hermana Nieve?”
I never even saw him, just the sudden disturbance of the white curtain. He flanked me, swept me right off my feet and had me on my back. He tilted his head, his nostrils were flared as if he were smelling me, but I could hear no sniffing.
“Answer when you are spoken to, girl?”
Remaining calm was difficult, I believe I was not honestly steady at this very moment. I was shaking in his grip, my eyes as wide as coins so much so I could feel the strain of my startled stare all throughout my perchance pale face. “I am busy…”
“So you say,” he snarled. This close to him, I could see that the change was not just in his voice. His appearance had morphed as well. He was very pale, with dark rings under the eyes now burrowing through my darting gaze. His breathing was rasped and strained, like a man with a heavy cold.
“You are sick, Lope,” I said, feeling the fever pulse off his skin at that very moment. The breath he expelled was even stale and reeked. Had he eaten something foul, or perhaps drank too much wine the night before?
“Indeed, so that is why I am here. There is no doctor though, and no nurse - my sweet little nurse - just you, and I wonder if you might help me. See, my Pepita has been quite stubborn lately. I do not like to be so forceful, but such stubbornness stands in the way of any satisfaction. Before you two began clucking, flapping your chops about so sisterly - sickening, really - I had Pepita lapping me up every night like the good little bitch I had made her.”
I stiffened, he was pinning me further into the bed. His pale face was turning red, and there was excitement to him that I could see in his eyes, and feel through his body against mine. I shut my eyes.
“And now? Now, she hits me so cruelly, she flings the coldest insults you would hear… all because I wanted a little bit of her time, all because she started talking to you. So, Hermana, I will say this once,” he huffed, trying to swallow a fight of hacking coughs to maintain the threatening note in his voice, “and no other time; stay away from her.”
“I cannot - ”
“If I see her speaking to you, if I so much as smell any trace of her on you the next time we cross paths, I will be sure to beat every little bit of you into the wall so that the Fathers will mistake you for mortar. Do you understand? Am I perfectly clear?”
I saw someone from over his shoulder, standing beyond the curtain; Doctor Gil.
“Lope Romero,” he barked, and I saw Lope’s eyes widen. He smiled wickedly at me, and straightened from my person. He pawed at his pants to fix them right again, and adjusted his sleeves so they were rolled around his elbows.
“Doctor Gil. Glad you could finally make it.”
“Perhaps back in the mission and among the hill you are a man who can do what he pleases. As I have the medicine and other tools to make you healthy again, I would recommend you behave yourself whenever you are here.”
“This is none of your business, doctor.”
“Under my roof? The roof I built myself for my practice? Yes, Lope, it is. I say this to you not as a request; you harm no one, and I mean no one.”
“Just fix me up,” Lope barked.
“No, I am afraid our session will have to be delayed until this afternoon. For now, rest and keep drinking water, and I will come to your quarters personally.”
“Hmph,” Lope snarled, and eyed my hatefully before taking his leave of the infirmary. He stalked around the doctor to do so, emerging slowly from the curtains so that the light muslin of them would drag along his broad shoulders. He slammed the door once he had passed the doctor, plunging us into silence. Doctor Gil came to my side with a cup of water shortly after this, and watched me with the utmost concern.
“You mind that man. You seem to have a knack for crossing him, so Father Leoncio tells me. Why not you avoid him for the remainder of your stay?”
I drank the water, panting. “This is my home too. I am not afraid of him.”
Doctor Gil frowned. “You should be. A man like that is not safe. Not for men, not for women. Unless you are some other creature, I would recommend keeping your distance.”
I paused, and I finished my cup. “Yes, doctor,” I murmured, and stood to leave, only to find his fingers wrapped around my wrist, and an imploring glance given up to me.
“And please… tell Pepita as well. I do not think she will listen to me anymore, at least when it concerns a monster like Lope.”
Entry #21
Adan!
One of the children is gone! The boy who brought me Mama Gondu's pendant, he is missing, we cannot find him anywhere. We have looked all over the mission for hours, and down beneath the hill in the village. Lope has just entered the jungle with Mama Gondu to comb the wilderness for the disappeared child, but he has not returned. Father Alvarelo insisted I rest, but I have been in this room for an hour now – sleepless and sick with worry. I have set to writing in hopes that I
can retrace the events, and perhaps discover the nature (or cause) of the boy's relocation.
His name is Set, and I have mentioned him before. The one who gifted me the butterfly. From that day on I have grown a fondness to him. He is quiet, gentle, and very clever. He has picked up the Spanish language much faster than some of the others, and what I teach him he remembers with a remarkable clarity. I wish I had known, as I took that small trinket from him, that he would go missing later on in the semester. I wish I had known, I would have embraced him there and then and told him never to return, to stay with his family, to tell Mama Gondu thank you, but he would prefer to stay with his family just a few months longer.
I wish I had known.
Me and the children, with the help of the Fathers, had been preparing for this celebration for week. I had learned so much about their festivals and their traditions, more than I ever knew before. They seemed to really enjoy learning about their teacher’s holidays as well, especially Easter. They were particularly intrigued with this one. Once we had covered one another’s “holidays” we set about planning the celebration.
One group was assigned to the kitchen, and their parents could enter the mission to help them prepare the menu for the big feast we would have at the holiday festival. Another group had split into two; one would put on a small play, the others would be dancing for us. The last group was in charge of games to be played that day. The morning of the celebration, which we had decided to hold on a day the soldiers were out training for the better part of the morning and afternoon, I was in the mission’s kitchen with some of the Tairona.
Some of their parents were there, teaching them how to use a metate for the first time, or helping them pit fruit. Conch, shrimps, and fish had been brought up from the coastal tribe, a group of which were going to stay to help and partake in the festivities that would follow. Game from the forest such as peccary and fowl were being prepared as well. I was stationed with a mother at a metate, and what a funny woman she was. She was pregnant, ready to pop at any moment it seemed! How quickly she spoke, life fire dancing down a fuse line. Still, I managed to keep up with her, and what jokes I did pick from her rapid fire parlance made me drop my metate stone to hold my sides laughing.
This had to be the happiest I had been since Carmen’s disappearance. The children and I were playing in the kitchen, throwing bits of pit and left over scraps of raw dough at each other, but some mothers were more stern than others and we soon were back to work, giggling under our breaths.
“You have a way with the Tairona, you know that?” Father Alvarelo had stepped up next to me to snag an avocado.
“Why would I not? They are a charming people. I have never met any like them.” I slapped his hand, which recoiled to accompany a playfully sour look he shot me.
“Here now? Not even a small snack?”
I chuckled, “No, Father Alvarelo, I need those.”
“Well, not every one can get along with Tairona. Some are rather intimidated by them. Sure, they are earth loving people, but their passions are sometimes misplaced to those unprepared.”
“I read every document you sent to Seville, you and Father Leoncio. They have proven very helpful. Look, if you really want that avocado.”
“Yes?”
“Pit them, save the shells, and when you are done start mashing. If a few slivers happen to go missing, I am sure the meal will not be ruined.
Father Alvarelo smirked, and began slide a knife around the fall belly of the avocado. He split the green apart, and began to spoon it into a bowl, reserving the shells. I continued to work on the metate, hardly noticing the burn in my arms from working the stone up and down to make the appropriate flat bread. We worked silently, but on occasion I looked at him, and on some of those occasions… I saw him look at me.
In no time, the festival was under way! The coastal Tairona were already drinking and chewing coca with the jungle brothers, enjoying one of the few times they managed to see each other beyond their trading businesses. The children had put on a nativity play to celebrate their Christmas assignment, and then the next few children were dancing around a crude, small fire that, once the dance was over, would be built into a bigger bonfire for us to eat around. The flames were crackling and popping, so warm and comforting here at the base of the mountains looming beyond the jungle.
Father Alvarelo and I were seated by the fire, he had been indulging in some of the liquor the coastal Tairona had brought up from the port, and his cheeks were rosy and appealing. I was keeping a cup of tea nice and warm between my cupped palms. The children had made Tairona masks, and roping them around the back of their heads. Their faces were colorful and twisted, and from behind the crudely painted wooden masks they were giggling and shrieking, and trying to scare one another. Some danced around the fire with their parents.
“It is such a shame you wish to enter the church as an anchorite.”
“Why, Father Alvarelo?”
“Look what you are seeing right now! You have seen a half of the world that some may never see, that some will only hear about upon our return… if we return.”
I smiled. “You really do love it here. Will you truly not return to Spain?”
“Maybe if you truly will not be an anchoress, will I truly return to Spain.”
“What could my - ”
“Herrrrmana Nieve!” Set ambushed me in a blue and green mask, throwing his arms around my neck. He was being followed by a few of his friends, they were also wearing masks. They set upon Father Alvarelo, knocking him off the stool he was occupying.
“Look at you!” I cried, and pushed Set’s mask up onto his head. “You sneaky little monkey, you nearly made the tea jump right out of my cup.” I glanced over my shoulder, the children were tickling Father Alvarelo. “And it looks like the lot of you have scared Father Alvarelo right out of his chair.”
“I am hardly frightened, you cannot frighten a giant!” Father Alvarelo roared and was to his feet, walking away with children laughing and clinging to his back and legs.
Overcome with laughter, I looked back at Set and kissed his brow as he looked up at me with sparkling dark eyes that reminded me of fading embers. “You, Signor Set, go have fun with your friends. We will call you when dessert is ready to be served.” I pulled his mask over his head, and we both roared at one another before he went scampering off to help his friends maul Father Alvarelo.
But, Adan, when dessert finally came I must admit I was unable to find Set anywhere at the table. The boy has an insistent sweet tooth that will often convince him to sneak sweets into class. That he would not be the first at the table for sweet cream, cakes, and candies is beyond me. I searched the children’s faces, but none of them were Set. Just beyond the fire, there were still some children playing in their masks. Perhaps Set was still among them.
“Children,” I called on my way to them, “come along! We are all having desserts together.”
None of the faces that rushed by me were the ones painted in blue and greens like Set’s. No wait, there! I snagged one of the children, desperate that this be Set, and I pushed the mask back. A little girl peered up at me, perplexed. I apologized with a smile, and let her go to run to the table with her friends where they began to tear into their desserts. I turned in place, searching and seeking that blue and green mask, or maybe even Set’s face in case he had abandoned his disguise.
“Hermana Nieve,” came Father Leoncio’s voice behind me, startling me. “What is it you are looking for?”
“Father Leoncio,” I drew close, and he frowned upon recognizing the worry imprinted upon my features. “Set. He is missing. I cannot find him anywhere. I do not want to cause a disturbance.” But much to my chagrin, a disturbance was caused. Father Leoncio and I stole away to search the mission, and we even employed Doctor Gil and Pepita. Still, when we met up again the dessert was almost over, the child was unfound, and his parents in attendance began to worry. They approached us, and after we told them we could not find him, the party erupted. Soon, ever Tairona and every mission worker was scouring the grounds and the jungle beyond.
We have found no Set, and before I even began to write to you, Adan, I was approached by Father Alvarelo. He had emerged from the jungle, climbed the hill, and found me still searching the mission with Pepita. He had Set’s mask in his hands. The flimsy wood had been split and splintered, the rope that kept the mask on Set’s little face… torn apart.
One of the children is gone! The boy who brought me Mama Gondu's pendant, he is missing, we cannot find him anywhere. We have looked all over the mission for hours, and down beneath the hill in the village. Lope has just entered the jungle with Mama Gondu to comb the wilderness for the disappeared child, but he has not returned. Father Alvarelo insisted I rest, but I have been in this room for an hour now – sleepless and sick with worry. I have set to writing in hopes that I
can retrace the events, and perhaps discover the nature (or cause) of the boy's relocation.
His name is Set, and I have mentioned him before. The one who gifted me the butterfly. From that day on I have grown a fondness to him. He is quiet, gentle, and very clever. He has picked up the Spanish language much faster than some of the others, and what I teach him he remembers with a remarkable clarity. I wish I had known, as I took that small trinket from him, that he would go missing later on in the semester. I wish I had known, I would have embraced him there and then and told him never to return, to stay with his family, to tell Mama Gondu thank you, but he would prefer to stay with his family just a few months longer.
I wish I had known.
Me and the children, with the help of the Fathers, had been preparing for this celebration for week. I had learned so much about their festivals and their traditions, more than I ever knew before. They seemed to really enjoy learning about their teacher’s holidays as well, especially Easter. They were particularly intrigued with this one. Once we had covered one another’s “holidays” we set about planning the celebration.
One group was assigned to the kitchen, and their parents could enter the mission to help them prepare the menu for the big feast we would have at the holiday festival. Another group had split into two; one would put on a small play, the others would be dancing for us. The last group was in charge of games to be played that day. The morning of the celebration, which we had decided to hold on a day the soldiers were out training for the better part of the morning and afternoon, I was in the mission’s kitchen with some of the Tairona.
Some of their parents were there, teaching them how to use a metate for the first time, or helping them pit fruit. Conch, shrimps, and fish had been brought up from the coastal tribe, a group of which were going to stay to help and partake in the festivities that would follow. Game from the forest such as peccary and fowl were being prepared as well. I was stationed with a mother at a metate, and what a funny woman she was. She was pregnant, ready to pop at any moment it seemed! How quickly she spoke, life fire dancing down a fuse line. Still, I managed to keep up with her, and what jokes I did pick from her rapid fire parlance made me drop my metate stone to hold my sides laughing.
This had to be the happiest I had been since Carmen’s disappearance. The children and I were playing in the kitchen, throwing bits of pit and left over scraps of raw dough at each other, but some mothers were more stern than others and we soon were back to work, giggling under our breaths.
“You have a way with the Tairona, you know that?” Father Alvarelo had stepped up next to me to snag an avocado.
“Why would I not? They are a charming people. I have never met any like them.” I slapped his hand, which recoiled to accompany a playfully sour look he shot me.
“Here now? Not even a small snack?”
I chuckled, “No, Father Alvarelo, I need those.”
“Well, not every one can get along with Tairona. Some are rather intimidated by them. Sure, they are earth loving people, but their passions are sometimes misplaced to those unprepared.”
“I read every document you sent to Seville, you and Father Leoncio. They have proven very helpful. Look, if you really want that avocado.”
“Yes?”
“Pit them, save the shells, and when you are done start mashing. If a few slivers happen to go missing, I am sure the meal will not be ruined.
Father Alvarelo smirked, and began slide a knife around the fall belly of the avocado. He split the green apart, and began to spoon it into a bowl, reserving the shells. I continued to work on the metate, hardly noticing the burn in my arms from working the stone up and down to make the appropriate flat bread. We worked silently, but on occasion I looked at him, and on some of those occasions… I saw him look at me.
In no time, the festival was under way! The coastal Tairona were already drinking and chewing coca with the jungle brothers, enjoying one of the few times they managed to see each other beyond their trading businesses. The children had put on a nativity play to celebrate their Christmas assignment, and then the next few children were dancing around a crude, small fire that, once the dance was over, would be built into a bigger bonfire for us to eat around. The flames were crackling and popping, so warm and comforting here at the base of the mountains looming beyond the jungle.
Father Alvarelo and I were seated by the fire, he had been indulging in some of the liquor the coastal Tairona had brought up from the port, and his cheeks were rosy and appealing. I was keeping a cup of tea nice and warm between my cupped palms. The children had made Tairona masks, and roping them around the back of their heads. Their faces were colorful and twisted, and from behind the crudely painted wooden masks they were giggling and shrieking, and trying to scare one another. Some danced around the fire with their parents.
“It is such a shame you wish to enter the church as an anchorite.”
“Why, Father Alvarelo?”
“Look what you are seeing right now! You have seen a half of the world that some may never see, that some will only hear about upon our return… if we return.”
I smiled. “You really do love it here. Will you truly not return to Spain?”
“Maybe if you truly will not be an anchoress, will I truly return to Spain.”
“What could my - ”
“Herrrrmana Nieve!” Set ambushed me in a blue and green mask, throwing his arms around my neck. He was being followed by a few of his friends, they were also wearing masks. They set upon Father Alvarelo, knocking him off the stool he was occupying.
“Look at you!” I cried, and pushed Set’s mask up onto his head. “You sneaky little monkey, you nearly made the tea jump right out of my cup.” I glanced over my shoulder, the children were tickling Father Alvarelo. “And it looks like the lot of you have scared Father Alvarelo right out of his chair.”
“I am hardly frightened, you cannot frighten a giant!” Father Alvarelo roared and was to his feet, walking away with children laughing and clinging to his back and legs.
Overcome with laughter, I looked back at Set and kissed his brow as he looked up at me with sparkling dark eyes that reminded me of fading embers. “You, Signor Set, go have fun with your friends. We will call you when dessert is ready to be served.” I pulled his mask over his head, and we both roared at one another before he went scampering off to help his friends maul Father Alvarelo.
But, Adan, when dessert finally came I must admit I was unable to find Set anywhere at the table. The boy has an insistent sweet tooth that will often convince him to sneak sweets into class. That he would not be the first at the table for sweet cream, cakes, and candies is beyond me. I searched the children’s faces, but none of them were Set. Just beyond the fire, there were still some children playing in their masks. Perhaps Set was still among them.
“Children,” I called on my way to them, “come along! We are all having desserts together.”
None of the faces that rushed by me were the ones painted in blue and greens like Set’s. No wait, there! I snagged one of the children, desperate that this be Set, and I pushed the mask back. A little girl peered up at me, perplexed. I apologized with a smile, and let her go to run to the table with her friends where they began to tear into their desserts. I turned in place, searching and seeking that blue and green mask, or maybe even Set’s face in case he had abandoned his disguise.
“Hermana Nieve,” came Father Leoncio’s voice behind me, startling me. “What is it you are looking for?”
“Father Leoncio,” I drew close, and he frowned upon recognizing the worry imprinted upon my features. “Set. He is missing. I cannot find him anywhere. I do not want to cause a disturbance.” But much to my chagrin, a disturbance was caused. Father Leoncio and I stole away to search the mission, and we even employed Doctor Gil and Pepita. Still, when we met up again the dessert was almost over, the child was unfound, and his parents in attendance began to worry. They approached us, and after we told them we could not find him, the party erupted. Soon, ever Tairona and every mission worker was scouring the grounds and the jungle beyond.
We have found no Set, and before I even began to write to you, Adan, I was approached by Father Alvarelo. He had emerged from the jungle, climbed the hill, and found me still searching the mission with Pepita. He had Set’s mask in his hands. The flimsy wood had been split and splintered, the rope that kept the mask on Set’s little face… torn apart.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Entry #20
Dear, Adan, Pepita is suffering.
So focused was I on my class that I did not even notice. One of my sessions had ended the other day, I was saying good bye to the children. We were nearing the end of another section in our class where we looked closely at our holiest musics. This meant another celebration was coming up! Some of the Tairona – including the very wise Mama Gondu – would be joining the children for an early evening feast in the courtyard. Oh, Adan, let me tell you; there will be music, and dancing, and we will truly bless the night.
My children were scattering to meet with their guardians to travel back to the jungle. I sneaked to the infirmary, moving down the garden path to meet with Doctor Gil inside. However, I could not find him.
“Doctor Gil?”
“He is with the Tairona at the bottom of the hill. One of them twisted their ankle hard in the fields today, so he is wrapping it.” The voice was Pepita's, but her tone was faint, and she was peeling the sheets off the bed, folding them messily, and stacking them in a wide, wicker basket.
“Oh,” I smiled, and began to peel the bed spreads, sheets, and blankets with her. “Let me help,” but she shied away from me.
“You needed medicine right? Doctor Gil left it for you, it's on the window sill by the door.”
I was rooted to my spot, surprised by her curt answer. “Pepita. Are you quite well?”
“I am busy today, Hermana Nieve, I really have no time.” She swept through the white curtain, en route to the next bed, and she nearly had made it without me seeing the welt on her cheek, but the smaller bruises lining her neck signaled me to intervene.
“Pepita,” and when I saw the welt, I gasped loudly and stepped away. “Oh my, Pepita, what is this? What happened to you?”
“You can never leave well enough alone, can you?” Pepita hissed, and I snatched the basket out of her hand, glaring stubbornly at her.
“Who did this to you?”
“Who do you think, Nieve?” She snatched her linens back, and bolted for the door, striding quickly and stiffly. I followed her, ignoring the medicine Doctor Gil had left for me on the window sill. Granted, such a prescription would help me sleep, but right now I was more concerned about Pepita. I followed her through the garden.
“Lope!”
She stopped, and spun on me in the garden. She pinned me with a defensive stare. “Yes! And I do not wish to speak of him.” But I could not let her go! Carmen was gone, the reasons for which I cannot explain, but to say I stood idly by when I knew the culprit of Pepita's abuse would be to resign myself to a life of regret. Pepita, as harsh as we began, had become my friend, and I did not want to see any harm visited upon her. What could I say to her, though, to make her talk? What could I do? She had retreated into a shell I found very difficult to crack.
Unless...
I ran back to my classroom, and retrieved the small pouch of coca I had stored by the organ. I had meant to bring it to her anyway. Now was a better time than ever. Tucking the tiny pouch into my sleeve, I crossed the courtyard again, and slipped behind the infirmary. Pepita was sitting at a wide vat filled with gray water, the surface laced with white bubbles. She had dunked most of the sheets, casings, and blankets into the vat, but left the rest of it in the basket for now. She tugged a washboard up from the bottom of the thigh high vat and hooked it to the rim. Just as she started to draw the first length of fabric across the board, I approached, and she stopped with a heavy sigh.
“Dammit, Nieve, I told you - ”
“Please,” I held out the pouch to her. “Just give me a minute of your time.”
She eyed the pouch suspiciously. “The Hell is that?”
“Coca. One of the children brought it for me, but I do not really enjoy chewing it so much.”
“You really going to buy me off with this? Is knowing more important than me, or do you really give half a damn about me, Hermana?”
“Yes,” I smiled helplessly, “and I... give half a damn. Pepita, you are the only sister I have left... Please?”
Pepita wiped her hands on her long skirt and nodded for me to join her. She sat in the shade of the infirmary's wall, and I took a seat beside her. The pouch was pulled open, and she dipped her fingers inside and tucked a wad of coca against her cheek. She began to chew the sticky stuff over, and lay her head back against the stone wall.
“What am I going to do?”
“What did he do to you, Pepita?”
“What you see, Hermana Nieve, is your answer.”
“He cannot do this to you.”
“And who will tell him to stop? You? Me? Father Leoncio? I have a good idea, let us see how long Doctor Gil lasts with his pruning sheers.”
“Pepita, this is not funny.”
Tears peeled from the corners of her eyes, and climbed over the crests of her cheeks that had lifted with a sad and so bitter smile. “I am not laughing, am I?”
“... No.”
“This is not just him, Pepita. The men are different. They will stay up all night some time. They will take Tairona women, and they will force them not to speak a word. How could they, anyway? The Tairona are strong people, and Lope's men may be stupid and reckless, but their aim is good enough.”
“The men do seem different.”
Pepita continued to chew, her brows lifting in an amused acknowledgment to, what must have seemed to her, my ironic statement. “Yes, men do seem so different sometimes.”
“No, I mean - ”
“I know what you meant, Hermana Nieve.” Pepita sighed. Her arms rest across her knees, and she swung the pouch back and forth on its small tether. Her dark hair, pulled back by a violet rag, was blowing around her battered cheeks, and her bruised, bitten neck. “My advice? Get out of here as fast as you can. I did not, and to this very moment I regret it all.” She paused, and smiled sheepishly my way. “Well, not everything.”
“You do not need to be so kind.” We were silent, and I shook my head, finally voicing my thoughts. “And you do not need to be so hurt. This... this has to stop. You know Father Leoncio and Father Alvarelo will protect you, reassign you to the village beneath the hill if they can. They would do anything to make sure no one is harmed in their mission.”
“Their mission? Nieve, this stopped being their mission the second Lope was put in charge. Realize this,” she stood, and made her way back over to the laundry vat, pocketing her pouch of coca in her skirt, “things will change. Mark my word. Get away from this place, Nieve.”
“I refuse to believe that we cannot change things,” I said as I balled my fists.
So focused was I on my class that I did not even notice. One of my sessions had ended the other day, I was saying good bye to the children. We were nearing the end of another section in our class where we looked closely at our holiest musics. This meant another celebration was coming up! Some of the Tairona – including the very wise Mama Gondu – would be joining the children for an early evening feast in the courtyard. Oh, Adan, let me tell you; there will be music, and dancing, and we will truly bless the night.
My children were scattering to meet with their guardians to travel back to the jungle. I sneaked to the infirmary, moving down the garden path to meet with Doctor Gil inside. However, I could not find him.
“Doctor Gil?”
“He is with the Tairona at the bottom of the hill. One of them twisted their ankle hard in the fields today, so he is wrapping it.” The voice was Pepita's, but her tone was faint, and she was peeling the sheets off the bed, folding them messily, and stacking them in a wide, wicker basket.
“Oh,” I smiled, and began to peel the bed spreads, sheets, and blankets with her. “Let me help,” but she shied away from me.
“You needed medicine right? Doctor Gil left it for you, it's on the window sill by the door.”
I was rooted to my spot, surprised by her curt answer. “Pepita. Are you quite well?”
“I am busy today, Hermana Nieve, I really have no time.” She swept through the white curtain, en route to the next bed, and she nearly had made it without me seeing the welt on her cheek, but the smaller bruises lining her neck signaled me to intervene.
“Pepita,” and when I saw the welt, I gasped loudly and stepped away. “Oh my, Pepita, what is this? What happened to you?”
“You can never leave well enough alone, can you?” Pepita hissed, and I snatched the basket out of her hand, glaring stubbornly at her.
“Who did this to you?”
“Who do you think, Nieve?” She snatched her linens back, and bolted for the door, striding quickly and stiffly. I followed her, ignoring the medicine Doctor Gil had left for me on the window sill. Granted, such a prescription would help me sleep, but right now I was more concerned about Pepita. I followed her through the garden.
“Lope!”
She stopped, and spun on me in the garden. She pinned me with a defensive stare. “Yes! And I do not wish to speak of him.” But I could not let her go! Carmen was gone, the reasons for which I cannot explain, but to say I stood idly by when I knew the culprit of Pepita's abuse would be to resign myself to a life of regret. Pepita, as harsh as we began, had become my friend, and I did not want to see any harm visited upon her. What could I say to her, though, to make her talk? What could I do? She had retreated into a shell I found very difficult to crack.
Unless...
I ran back to my classroom, and retrieved the small pouch of coca I had stored by the organ. I had meant to bring it to her anyway. Now was a better time than ever. Tucking the tiny pouch into my sleeve, I crossed the courtyard again, and slipped behind the infirmary. Pepita was sitting at a wide vat filled with gray water, the surface laced with white bubbles. She had dunked most of the sheets, casings, and blankets into the vat, but left the rest of it in the basket for now. She tugged a washboard up from the bottom of the thigh high vat and hooked it to the rim. Just as she started to draw the first length of fabric across the board, I approached, and she stopped with a heavy sigh.
“Dammit, Nieve, I told you - ”
“Please,” I held out the pouch to her. “Just give me a minute of your time.”
She eyed the pouch suspiciously. “The Hell is that?”
“Coca. One of the children brought it for me, but I do not really enjoy chewing it so much.”
“You really going to buy me off with this? Is knowing more important than me, or do you really give half a damn about me, Hermana?”
“Yes,” I smiled helplessly, “and I... give half a damn. Pepita, you are the only sister I have left... Please?”
Pepita wiped her hands on her long skirt and nodded for me to join her. She sat in the shade of the infirmary's wall, and I took a seat beside her. The pouch was pulled open, and she dipped her fingers inside and tucked a wad of coca against her cheek. She began to chew the sticky stuff over, and lay her head back against the stone wall.
“What am I going to do?”
“What did he do to you, Pepita?”
“What you see, Hermana Nieve, is your answer.”
“He cannot do this to you.”
“And who will tell him to stop? You? Me? Father Leoncio? I have a good idea, let us see how long Doctor Gil lasts with his pruning sheers.”
“Pepita, this is not funny.”
Tears peeled from the corners of her eyes, and climbed over the crests of her cheeks that had lifted with a sad and so bitter smile. “I am not laughing, am I?”
“... No.”
“This is not just him, Pepita. The men are different. They will stay up all night some time. They will take Tairona women, and they will force them not to speak a word. How could they, anyway? The Tairona are strong people, and Lope's men may be stupid and reckless, but their aim is good enough.”
“The men do seem different.”
Pepita continued to chew, her brows lifting in an amused acknowledgment to, what must have seemed to her, my ironic statement. “Yes, men do seem so different sometimes.”
“No, I mean - ”
“I know what you meant, Hermana Nieve.” Pepita sighed. Her arms rest across her knees, and she swung the pouch back and forth on its small tether. Her dark hair, pulled back by a violet rag, was blowing around her battered cheeks, and her bruised, bitten neck. “My advice? Get out of here as fast as you can. I did not, and to this very moment I regret it all.” She paused, and smiled sheepishly my way. “Well, not everything.”
“You do not need to be so kind.” We were silent, and I shook my head, finally voicing my thoughts. “And you do not need to be so hurt. This... this has to stop. You know Father Leoncio and Father Alvarelo will protect you, reassign you to the village beneath the hill if they can. They would do anything to make sure no one is harmed in their mission.”
“Their mission? Nieve, this stopped being their mission the second Lope was put in charge. Realize this,” she stood, and made her way back over to the laundry vat, pocketing her pouch of coca in her skirt, “things will change. Mark my word. Get away from this place, Nieve.”
“I refuse to believe that we cannot change things,” I said as I balled my fists.
Entry #19
Adan,
I have been having the strangest dreams, recurring over and over in my mind, sometimes when I am not sleeping. I wonder if Carmen suffered the same visions, for I cannot bring myself to sleep well some nights. In the day, I cannot escape these dreams. I thought I saw Carmen walking past my classroom one day. I saw a head of red hair being blow in the window, a pair of slender shoulders wrapped in a black shawl. When I burst from my class, I saw no one there, just soldiers gambling with the stable boys, and Doctor Gil tending the garden outside of his infirmary. There are times I will be reading in the library, and I will expect to see someone's shadow move across my book. Other times, I am simply coming back from refilling my bedroom's dish with water. I will turn a corner, and no one will be there, just the sound of dripping water. I can never find the source.
The other night, I was coming back from the library. I had been reading privately, avoiding the mess hall which has been taken over by the soldiers, enjoying the “control” that Lope has exerted over all of them. So far, their duties have included drinking, hazing, and overall aggressive behavior. The soldiers have always been rowdy, even mischievous like school boys, but never such bullies. I am not sure what has come over them. Maybe it is like Father Leoncio says, maybe it is the power that has gotten to them.
I am sorry, I have departed on a tangent. Let me return to the source of this letter, Adan. I had shut the door to the library. I had a candle in hand, the flame only mildly dancing in tune with the evening breeze whispering through the corridor. I was turning to leave when I heard -
Thump.
It came from the library. My hair stood on end instantly. That sound had not come out of the library for quite some time, yet I had not forgotten it. How could I? That day had been so peculiar. I took a breath, and pushed the door to the library back open. The book I had put back on the shelf had fallen onto the floor. I did not even know someone was behind me while I stooped to replace it, I only saw him when I looked upon the window pane ahead of me. The same tall, dark figure with the hunched shoulders, rocking swiftly back and forth. I whipped around, but it was gone.
Thump.
Thump. Thump.
I dropped my candle, the light was huffed out before it even made contact with the floor. I tore the door open, and took off down the corridor for my room. I fumbled with my key, unlocked my door, flung the portal open and bolted it behind me. Like a child, I ran for my bed, the last island of salvation from what had to be stalking me in the hallway. I panted and prayed to my Maker, to all that was Holy and would listen to me. I clutched my rosary and Mama Gondu's charm close to my heart and burst into tears, praying and praying, begging for safety as my door was rattled and shaken.
As quickly as the violent assault happened to my door, it vanished. My prayers turned into whispers, and faded as I realized there as a new sound in my room. The sound of wide leaves brushing one another under the guidance of a common wind. I slowly pushed my cover away from my head. Tall bushes with fanning leaves had grown in my room. Orchids choked the walls. Vines were coiled up my wall, and there were puddles dotting my floor. The fragrance filling my room was an unnaturally sweet floral scent, and the mineral edge of freshly fallen rain. I imagined that Paradise could have smelled like this. Still, despite such a heavenly impression, I could not help but have my suspicions, and my fear was growing. The sound of dripping water was beyond my door, the door now cracked open to let the candle light from the corridor in.
I swung my legs slowly over my bedside, and stood. I drew a robe about me, and neglected to bring a candle as there was already a wall lined with them beyond my threshold. Did I dare to leave the confines of my room though? Was it even my room, now that it was in fact a jungle?
I stepped outside. The corridor seemed unphased, unlike my chamber. I walked the short distance of this small hall to the main corridor. I turned, and found nothing changed, nothing out of place until the candles at the end of the stretching corridor were snuffed out. Then the next pair, and the next, and the next, and the next. Bursts of smoke tainting the air with a charred smell, silver wisps swallowed by the darkness. I managed to save a candle from its stand, and turned my back to shield it, but it was quenched in my hand anyway. Looking back, I could see a silhouette standing at the window yawning wide at the end of the hallway.
“H... ello?”
The lights all flared to life, showing puddles across the floor. Vines were choking the walls, and orchids were rotting on them. The silhouette at the window was rocking back and forth, bent at the shoulders, its head hanging low and twitching. It wheeled around, and stalked closer, and this was the last I saw of it as the lights went off; this black figure coming toward me that I suddenly could not see.
I stumbled back, my heel striking a root, and I crashed into what I thought was a puddle. The water possessed the depth of a lake, however, and I began to sink. I awoke in my bed, sweating and screaming for help, but I was alone and the sunlight was flooding in.
I have been having the strangest dreams, recurring over and over in my mind, sometimes when I am not sleeping. I wonder if Carmen suffered the same visions, for I cannot bring myself to sleep well some nights. In the day, I cannot escape these dreams. I thought I saw Carmen walking past my classroom one day. I saw a head of red hair being blow in the window, a pair of slender shoulders wrapped in a black shawl. When I burst from my class, I saw no one there, just soldiers gambling with the stable boys, and Doctor Gil tending the garden outside of his infirmary. There are times I will be reading in the library, and I will expect to see someone's shadow move across my book. Other times, I am simply coming back from refilling my bedroom's dish with water. I will turn a corner, and no one will be there, just the sound of dripping water. I can never find the source.
The other night, I was coming back from the library. I had been reading privately, avoiding the mess hall which has been taken over by the soldiers, enjoying the “control” that Lope has exerted over all of them. So far, their duties have included drinking, hazing, and overall aggressive behavior. The soldiers have always been rowdy, even mischievous like school boys, but never such bullies. I am not sure what has come over them. Maybe it is like Father Leoncio says, maybe it is the power that has gotten to them.
I am sorry, I have departed on a tangent. Let me return to the source of this letter, Adan. I had shut the door to the library. I had a candle in hand, the flame only mildly dancing in tune with the evening breeze whispering through the corridor. I was turning to leave when I heard -
Thump.
It came from the library. My hair stood on end instantly. That sound had not come out of the library for quite some time, yet I had not forgotten it. How could I? That day had been so peculiar. I took a breath, and pushed the door to the library back open. The book I had put back on the shelf had fallen onto the floor. I did not even know someone was behind me while I stooped to replace it, I only saw him when I looked upon the window pane ahead of me. The same tall, dark figure with the hunched shoulders, rocking swiftly back and forth. I whipped around, but it was gone.
Thump.
Thump. Thump.
I dropped my candle, the light was huffed out before it even made contact with the floor. I tore the door open, and took off down the corridor for my room. I fumbled with my key, unlocked my door, flung the portal open and bolted it behind me. Like a child, I ran for my bed, the last island of salvation from what had to be stalking me in the hallway. I panted and prayed to my Maker, to all that was Holy and would listen to me. I clutched my rosary and Mama Gondu's charm close to my heart and burst into tears, praying and praying, begging for safety as my door was rattled and shaken.
As quickly as the violent assault happened to my door, it vanished. My prayers turned into whispers, and faded as I realized there as a new sound in my room. The sound of wide leaves brushing one another under the guidance of a common wind. I slowly pushed my cover away from my head. Tall bushes with fanning leaves had grown in my room. Orchids choked the walls. Vines were coiled up my wall, and there were puddles dotting my floor. The fragrance filling my room was an unnaturally sweet floral scent, and the mineral edge of freshly fallen rain. I imagined that Paradise could have smelled like this. Still, despite such a heavenly impression, I could not help but have my suspicions, and my fear was growing. The sound of dripping water was beyond my door, the door now cracked open to let the candle light from the corridor in.
I swung my legs slowly over my bedside, and stood. I drew a robe about me, and neglected to bring a candle as there was already a wall lined with them beyond my threshold. Did I dare to leave the confines of my room though? Was it even my room, now that it was in fact a jungle?
I stepped outside. The corridor seemed unphased, unlike my chamber. I walked the short distance of this small hall to the main corridor. I turned, and found nothing changed, nothing out of place until the candles at the end of the stretching corridor were snuffed out. Then the next pair, and the next, and the next, and the next. Bursts of smoke tainting the air with a charred smell, silver wisps swallowed by the darkness. I managed to save a candle from its stand, and turned my back to shield it, but it was quenched in my hand anyway. Looking back, I could see a silhouette standing at the window yawning wide at the end of the hallway.
“H... ello?”
The lights all flared to life, showing puddles across the floor. Vines were choking the walls, and orchids were rotting on them. The silhouette at the window was rocking back and forth, bent at the shoulders, its head hanging low and twitching. It wheeled around, and stalked closer, and this was the last I saw of it as the lights went off; this black figure coming toward me that I suddenly could not see.
I stumbled back, my heel striking a root, and I crashed into what I thought was a puddle. The water possessed the depth of a lake, however, and I began to sink. I awoke in my bed, sweating and screaming for help, but I was alone and the sunlight was flooding in.
Entry #18
Adan,
Father Leoncio, Father Alvarelo, and myself have come up with a rather hansom curriculum for the children's return. We even discussed how to best handle the question of Carmen's absences, and the health – waning as it was – before that. All of us grew quite sombre thinking about Carmen, especially myself. I believe Father Alvarelo shifted the subject after this in order to avoid my tears. He is a considerate man, he and Father Leoncio – in his own way – and I am lucky to stay with such capable men of the church. We blocked out a week just on holidays, comparing ours and theirs, and decided to end such a segment with a large celebration! The children would be assigned Catholic and Tairona holidays that they would then need to portray. From there, the ideas kept coming. Learning more songs, trading our traditions, our languages and most importantly we decided to start having after-curriculum discussions. I would reserve a small portion of my class time to allow the children to ask me questions, and I would do my best to answer each one.
So, energized from these meetings, I was able to remove myself from the mission. I suppose the only dampener was upon leaving the library after each session, we would hear rousing yelling, laughing, and raucous from mess. I remember on one such day the noise was particularly laden with curses, oaths against God, and we could hear plates breaking. Father Alvarelo, impatient with such disturbance, broke off from us.
“Victor!” Father Leoncio attempted to stop him, but Father Alvarelo was already too far ahead. We hastened to catch up with him, barely reaching his heels by the time he had thrown the door to the mess hall open. Not all of the soldiers were present, but most of them were there, sucking down bottles of wine, dropping food on the floor for their dogs, and crowning the table was Lope. He had a Tairona girl in his lap as he perched on the edge of the table. Our arrival had apparently been distraction enough, and the girl looked up at us, panting and tousled.
“Lope Romero, what is the meaning of this?” Father Alvarelo boomed. “You would behave - ”
“Be careful, Father,” Lope sneered. “You're speaking to a captain these days, remember?”
“You are no captain, Lope. You are in charge of your unit your captain returns, but that does not make you -”
“What? In charge?” Lope stood, shoving the girl to the floor, and advancing on Father Alvarelo. “Gabriel said it best. You are men of God, not of War. Did he tell you about that humiliating day? Perhaps you do not understand how man's protocol works, Father Alvarelo.” Lope was toe-to-toe with Father Alvarelo, who was much shorter than he, but Father Alvarelo did not stir. He held his ground like a modern David turning his nose up to the Goliath before him. I only wished Father Alvarelo had a sling...
“But until the captain returns,” Lope continue through a grit-toothed smile. “Yes. I am in charge.”
“Enough!” I could smell the wine on his breath, and I could sense Father Alvarelo losing his patience again. His fists were balling, and I did not trust him to hold his own against a man like Lope. “Gentlemen, please - ”
“Stay out of it, you dog,” Lope snapped at me, and I bit my lip. How could he?
Father Leoncio stepped forward. He was just as big as Lope, and his years reflected far more experience. “You will stand down, soldier,” Father Leoncio said evenly. “You may be captain of your men, but you are not in charge of this mission. You will behave better, or I will have you sleep with the dogs in the rain outside. Not even the Tairona will take you in, I will see to that.”
Lope flinched, and recovered from such a wince with a tittering, cold smirk. “That so, Father? What charity you show.”
“Calm yourselves, or leave.”
“But you need us, Father!” Lope whimpered, and his men roared with laughter. “You neeeeed us!”
“I need soldiers, not boys,” Father Leoncio spat, and Lope lunged at him, but Father Leoncio did not falter. Lope chuckled, and backed away to rejoin his pack.
“And I need a drink. What say you, men?”
Father Alvarelo made a step to cut Lope off, but Father Leoncio caught his arm, and pulled him from the mess. I quickly retrieved the girl, and shoo'ed her away down the hall, hissing for her to avoid these men for the rest of the week until they had forgotten her. She took off weeping, and it took everything not to do the same.
“He is not worth it,” Father Leoncio whispered as he guided Father Alvarelo away, but he was shaken off.
“They are out of control,” Father Alvarelo snapped, and folded his hands together in his sleeves as he sulked down the hall. Father Leoncio sighed to see him leave so angrily, but then fixated his attention on me.
“Avoid Lope if you can, Hermana. I have known the boy for years, but never seen him like this. Power can do much to a boy, even make him think he is an untouchable, indomitable man. Until Captain Gonzalo returns, do not cross him.”
“Yes, Father...” I watched him go, and tried to refocus. I needed to concentrate on my class, and let me tell you, Adan, when I saw those children the next morning I completely forgot about Lope and his abusive party. They were so excited about returning, and they each brought me gifts. A brother and sister brought me a rolled up blanket their mother had made on her loom, and others brought me a decorated gourd. Others offered me flat bread and fruits and flowers from the jungle. I set aside a little pouch of coca to give to Pepita later.
The class went so well after we had a quiet moment to remember Carmen. I swept my tears away just after our prayer concluded. Could not have them see me in such a state, could I? This was supposed to be a happy day, after all! We even had a surprise visit from Father Alvarelo! Of course, I had planned this, but I think I feigned my surprise adequately. The children leaped from their seats and tackled the priest to the ground, embracing and kissing him. He eventually made his way back to his feet, and we started class. We had song, and stories, and we had language study, and at the very end, Father Alvarelo and I poured them water, and passed around the bread and fruit they had been so sweet to bring in. They asked us questions about the Lord, about Spain, and sometimes about silly things.
“Where is Carmen?” A tiny voice came from the back. We all looked to the source, a little boy kicking his feet nervously in one of the pews.
“She is with God, my dear,” I said, smiling for him to see.
“I heard she went into the jungle,” said another student, and I cleared my throat.
“That is very true, but Father Alvarelo and I and Father Leoncio have not seen or heard from her since. We can only say she is with God now. That He is taking care of her as best he can.”
“Was she sick? She looked sick.” Another voice chimed in.
“She was sick,” I answered, but my voice suddenly hitched. Father Alvarelo took my hand, and held is tightly in his.
“Class is dismissed. We will meet again tomorrow. Please, practice your Spanish and your songs. We have a busy week this week.”
Once the children had filed out, I was approached by a little boy. The same that had asked the question. I had never seen him before. He must have been too young some months ago to attend class with his brothers and sisters, but now here he was. He had shaggy dark hair, but I could still see a big pair of brown eyes peering up at me through the bangs. I knelt to meet him, and he wrapped his arms around my neck in a soft embrace.
He was spoke in Tairona, still too shy to attempt Spanish. “Mama Gondu wanted me to give you this, but I was too scared during school.” He leaned back, and pulled a golden pendant from his pocket. It hung from a long thread. The material felt like the same threads used to construct the loomed blanket I had on the organ's seat behind me. The image was like that of a butterfly, and before I could make out any other details, the boy hugged me again.
“He said to wear it for protection. That he sends his love.”
I returned the boy's embrace, and nodded. “And send him ours. Go catch up with your brothers and sisters now.” The boy smiled, and took off from the classroom. I shivered and tilted back. Father Alvarelo kneeled and caught me in his arms. He held me very close, and bowed his chin to the top of my head. “Oh, Victor, I miss her so much. I miss Carmen.” I wept and he told me he knew, he knew, and he would not cease praying for her safe delivery. Whether that was back to the mission or to God's hands Himself, he would keep his prayer strong. Still, I could not help but believe Carmen was still alive in the jungle the children traveled to return home.
Father Leoncio, Father Alvarelo, and myself have come up with a rather hansom curriculum for the children's return. We even discussed how to best handle the question of Carmen's absences, and the health – waning as it was – before that. All of us grew quite sombre thinking about Carmen, especially myself. I believe Father Alvarelo shifted the subject after this in order to avoid my tears. He is a considerate man, he and Father Leoncio – in his own way – and I am lucky to stay with such capable men of the church. We blocked out a week just on holidays, comparing ours and theirs, and decided to end such a segment with a large celebration! The children would be assigned Catholic and Tairona holidays that they would then need to portray. From there, the ideas kept coming. Learning more songs, trading our traditions, our languages and most importantly we decided to start having after-curriculum discussions. I would reserve a small portion of my class time to allow the children to ask me questions, and I would do my best to answer each one.
So, energized from these meetings, I was able to remove myself from the mission. I suppose the only dampener was upon leaving the library after each session, we would hear rousing yelling, laughing, and raucous from mess. I remember on one such day the noise was particularly laden with curses, oaths against God, and we could hear plates breaking. Father Alvarelo, impatient with such disturbance, broke off from us.
“Victor!” Father Leoncio attempted to stop him, but Father Alvarelo was already too far ahead. We hastened to catch up with him, barely reaching his heels by the time he had thrown the door to the mess hall open. Not all of the soldiers were present, but most of them were there, sucking down bottles of wine, dropping food on the floor for their dogs, and crowning the table was Lope. He had a Tairona girl in his lap as he perched on the edge of the table. Our arrival had apparently been distraction enough, and the girl looked up at us, panting and tousled.
“Lope Romero, what is the meaning of this?” Father Alvarelo boomed. “You would behave - ”
“Be careful, Father,” Lope sneered. “You're speaking to a captain these days, remember?”
“You are no captain, Lope. You are in charge of your unit your captain returns, but that does not make you -”
“What? In charge?” Lope stood, shoving the girl to the floor, and advancing on Father Alvarelo. “Gabriel said it best. You are men of God, not of War. Did he tell you about that humiliating day? Perhaps you do not understand how man's protocol works, Father Alvarelo.” Lope was toe-to-toe with Father Alvarelo, who was much shorter than he, but Father Alvarelo did not stir. He held his ground like a modern David turning his nose up to the Goliath before him. I only wished Father Alvarelo had a sling...
“But until the captain returns,” Lope continue through a grit-toothed smile. “Yes. I am in charge.”
“Enough!” I could smell the wine on his breath, and I could sense Father Alvarelo losing his patience again. His fists were balling, and I did not trust him to hold his own against a man like Lope. “Gentlemen, please - ”
“Stay out of it, you dog,” Lope snapped at me, and I bit my lip. How could he?
Father Leoncio stepped forward. He was just as big as Lope, and his years reflected far more experience. “You will stand down, soldier,” Father Leoncio said evenly. “You may be captain of your men, but you are not in charge of this mission. You will behave better, or I will have you sleep with the dogs in the rain outside. Not even the Tairona will take you in, I will see to that.”
Lope flinched, and recovered from such a wince with a tittering, cold smirk. “That so, Father? What charity you show.”
“Calm yourselves, or leave.”
“But you need us, Father!” Lope whimpered, and his men roared with laughter. “You neeeeed us!”
“I need soldiers, not boys,” Father Leoncio spat, and Lope lunged at him, but Father Leoncio did not falter. Lope chuckled, and backed away to rejoin his pack.
“And I need a drink. What say you, men?”
Father Alvarelo made a step to cut Lope off, but Father Leoncio caught his arm, and pulled him from the mess. I quickly retrieved the girl, and shoo'ed her away down the hall, hissing for her to avoid these men for the rest of the week until they had forgotten her. She took off weeping, and it took everything not to do the same.
“He is not worth it,” Father Leoncio whispered as he guided Father Alvarelo away, but he was shaken off.
“They are out of control,” Father Alvarelo snapped, and folded his hands together in his sleeves as he sulked down the hall. Father Leoncio sighed to see him leave so angrily, but then fixated his attention on me.
“Avoid Lope if you can, Hermana. I have known the boy for years, but never seen him like this. Power can do much to a boy, even make him think he is an untouchable, indomitable man. Until Captain Gonzalo returns, do not cross him.”
“Yes, Father...” I watched him go, and tried to refocus. I needed to concentrate on my class, and let me tell you, Adan, when I saw those children the next morning I completely forgot about Lope and his abusive party. They were so excited about returning, and they each brought me gifts. A brother and sister brought me a rolled up blanket their mother had made on her loom, and others brought me a decorated gourd. Others offered me flat bread and fruits and flowers from the jungle. I set aside a little pouch of coca to give to Pepita later.
The class went so well after we had a quiet moment to remember Carmen. I swept my tears away just after our prayer concluded. Could not have them see me in such a state, could I? This was supposed to be a happy day, after all! We even had a surprise visit from Father Alvarelo! Of course, I had planned this, but I think I feigned my surprise adequately. The children leaped from their seats and tackled the priest to the ground, embracing and kissing him. He eventually made his way back to his feet, and we started class. We had song, and stories, and we had language study, and at the very end, Father Alvarelo and I poured them water, and passed around the bread and fruit they had been so sweet to bring in. They asked us questions about the Lord, about Spain, and sometimes about silly things.
“Where is Carmen?” A tiny voice came from the back. We all looked to the source, a little boy kicking his feet nervously in one of the pews.
“She is with God, my dear,” I said, smiling for him to see.
“I heard she went into the jungle,” said another student, and I cleared my throat.
“That is very true, but Father Alvarelo and I and Father Leoncio have not seen or heard from her since. We can only say she is with God now. That He is taking care of her as best he can.”
“Was she sick? She looked sick.” Another voice chimed in.
“She was sick,” I answered, but my voice suddenly hitched. Father Alvarelo took my hand, and held is tightly in his.
“Class is dismissed. We will meet again tomorrow. Please, practice your Spanish and your songs. We have a busy week this week.”
Once the children had filed out, I was approached by a little boy. The same that had asked the question. I had never seen him before. He must have been too young some months ago to attend class with his brothers and sisters, but now here he was. He had shaggy dark hair, but I could still see a big pair of brown eyes peering up at me through the bangs. I knelt to meet him, and he wrapped his arms around my neck in a soft embrace.
He was spoke in Tairona, still too shy to attempt Spanish. “Mama Gondu wanted me to give you this, but I was too scared during school.” He leaned back, and pulled a golden pendant from his pocket. It hung from a long thread. The material felt like the same threads used to construct the loomed blanket I had on the organ's seat behind me. The image was like that of a butterfly, and before I could make out any other details, the boy hugged me again.
“He said to wear it for protection. That he sends his love.”
I returned the boy's embrace, and nodded. “And send him ours. Go catch up with your brothers and sisters now.” The boy smiled, and took off from the classroom. I shivered and tilted back. Father Alvarelo kneeled and caught me in his arms. He held me very close, and bowed his chin to the top of my head. “Oh, Victor, I miss her so much. I miss Carmen.” I wept and he told me he knew, he knew, and he would not cease praying for her safe delivery. Whether that was back to the mission or to God's hands Himself, he would keep his prayer strong. Still, I could not help but believe Carmen was still alive in the jungle the children traveled to return home.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Entry #17
Adan.
I awoke in the infirmary. It was empty, save for the sunlight straying through the open door. Outside, I could hear voices, but none of them were distinguishable, just obnoxious and with varying pitches. I looked down. I had slept in one of the beds, propped against the headboard with a pillow under my neck and back. Pepita’s head was on my thigh, her arm was around my waist. Her appearance was child-like, innocent. After the attack last night, she was brought here, and Olvida soon followed after being sedated. I remember helping Doctor Gil after laying Pepita down.
“Just keep handing me the bandages. We need to clean these wounds, and dress them.”
Olvida was stripped of her clothing, and her skin was a patchwork blend of flawless and flayed flesh. Doctor Gil cleaned the wounds, which bubbled upon having any solution applied to them. The slashes were deep, and some required stitches, while others were shallow, and looked as if the skin had been peeled away from. I never knew skin looked like that when removed, red and dense. The cross shape had been burned into her neck, but Doctor Gil was of the opinion that the charred flesh would mend. We dressed her wounds and I went to one of the empty beds. I pulled aside the curtain, and dropped onto the mattress.
“Nieve,” my name was whispered shortly after, and my breath caught in my throat. Oh, Lord. What now? Who was that? I tilted my head, and saw, through a crack in the thin curtain, that Pepita was sitting up in bed, beckoning me. “Nieve, please.”
I dragged myself out of bed, despite how much my body protested for sleep. The distance was trudged one step at a time, and the back of my fingers cleared away the curtain. Pepita was sitting up, laying against her bent knees, her hands folded around her neck.
“The things she called me,” she whimpered. “In front of them. The things she called me back there.”
“Pepita. Olvida was not in control of herself.”
“I do not care,” Pepita wailed, rocking back and forth. “I am no whore. I am not.”
I settled on the bed beside her, took her shoulders and eased her hands from her neck. A bedside table was adorned with a bowl of water, a pitcher, and a couple of rags. Usually, this was used to rinse the patient’s face, or to clean blood off Doctor Gil’s hands as he worked. I dipped the rag in the water, twisted as much moisture out as I could, and then shifted on the bed so I was in front of Pepita. I began to dab her neck where the swelling was worst, or where I saw a cut. I touched the cloth to her cheeks and her forehead, carrying her tears away as they rolled down her face.
Pepita’s calm broke, and she tilted forward. I held her, balanced her brow on my shoulder with ease and rubbed her back. I had never seen Pepita so broken and conscious of herself. The pain in her neck was nothing compared to the blow her pride had taken.
“Do you want me to stay?” I asked.
Now, in the morning, she looked calm again. I cradled her head carefully, and slipped off the bed. I lay her head back down on a pillow. She stirred, her eyes opening briefly to take me in before she nestled deeper into the cushion under her cheek. When I came out from behind the curtain, I noticed that Olvida’s bed was empty.
“I have made myself clear!” I heard someone bark from outside, and retreated from the infirmary. I kept low in the garden as I walked the short path, and knelt behind a bush of tomatoes. Captain Gonzalo, with a couple of his own officers that escorted him and Olvida from the coast, was facing Father Leoncio. All of them were mounted, including Olvida. She was hunched in her saddle, holding a cloak around her shoulders. A hood was pulled over her head, hiding any other wounds. All she was not to me now was the point of her nose, and a glimpse of her eyes from around the edge of her cowl. Father Leoncio was dwarfed by the mounted posse, and surrounding him were the other soldiers.
“You have,” Father Leoncio gave in, probably reaching the end of a longer argument I had missed as I came to in the infirmary.
“We will ride for the coast, and I will be setting sail for the Yucatan within the week.”
“Hear me out,” Father Leoncio protested. “Leave us behind all you wish, Captain, but until you have finalized such arrangements with your general in Yucatan, leave us a unit. We do in fact rely on their support here within the mission.”
“Why? In case you progress? Father, your mission has been sitting like a wart on this hill for four years. There has been no progress into the mountains or into the jungles. You have made no effort to dominate these territories, so why would you need soldiers?”
“The King himself has requested that missions are protected, no matter the elements. Some times these elements cannot be predicted. Be reasonable. We are men of God, not of War. We would not know how to protect these people if something were to occur here.”
Captain Gonzalo began to circle Father Leoncio, seemingly capitalizing on some insistence he must have been mistaking as weakness. I know that the man refusing to drop to his knees and beg the Captain was stronger than any soldier I had seen since coming here. The light I saw my Father in was a bold one, and I felt invigorated, energized. More than anything, I prayed that Father Leoncio succeeded.
“You are lucky I do not flush this entire place away after what transpired with my wife, though do not mistake me. The question of whether or not you and Father Alvarelo are fit to run this mission will be brought to the attention of those in the Yucatan. I will take it to Mexico if I have to, Father. Do not worry, you will be able to state your case. I promise, you will be granted an opportunity to salvage what you can of your name and state.” Captain Gonzalo’s head whipped about, and he pointed in Lope’s direction. “Private Romero.”
“Sir!”
“You are in charge until we return with replacements.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Until then?” Father Leoncio asked, squinting at the Captain in the sunlight.
“Until then, do what you do best. Pray.” Captain Gonzalo snorted, and whipped his horse about. He trotted from the courtyard with his wife and other officers in tow. Olvida did not even look back, and slowly the soldiers began to fade back into the mission, many of them encircling Lope to pat him on the back. I stood and watched them go. Lope had hooked his thumbs on his belt, there was a swagger to his step. They disappeared into the mission, calling for someone to fetch them a drink. Of all people… Lope. Lope Romero was chosen to be in charge of the soldiers here in the mission. I had my doubts, and above those I had my fears, multiple horrors at what the mission soldiers would be like under his control. Already they stayed up late, roaring at the Tairona servants, bedding who they pleased, drinking beyond their capacity, forgoing sobriety and control for lushness and discord.
Father Leoncio was left to stand alone in the courtyard. My gaze slipped back to him, and I approached gingerly. I was not sure what mood I would find him in, but his tightly shut eyes, and his stiff posture offered me a pronounced look at a mounting frustration. I turned to leave him, but he stopped me.
“Nieve,” he called, I halted in my tracks, my habit swayed about my ankles, and I glanced over my shoulder at his still frame. “Will you pour us some tea?”
“Of course, Father Leoncio.”
“You have your class resuming soon, yes?”
“Yes, Father.”
“We will take our tea in the library then. I will call on Father Alvarelo and we will plan the curriculum from now until summer. How does this sound?”
“I am pleased with it, Father.” I ventured closer now, I was unaware that I had started to wring my hands. “However, are you happy with it?”
“Come,” he refused to answer, though I could see he longed to unleash every bit of pent up agitation he could muster. Perhaps it was best for him to find a different place - such as the schooling - to release these energies. “We will convene in the library, and hopefully our tea will not be cold.”
I awoke in the infirmary. It was empty, save for the sunlight straying through the open door. Outside, I could hear voices, but none of them were distinguishable, just obnoxious and with varying pitches. I looked down. I had slept in one of the beds, propped against the headboard with a pillow under my neck and back. Pepita’s head was on my thigh, her arm was around my waist. Her appearance was child-like, innocent. After the attack last night, she was brought here, and Olvida soon followed after being sedated. I remember helping Doctor Gil after laying Pepita down.
“Just keep handing me the bandages. We need to clean these wounds, and dress them.”
Olvida was stripped of her clothing, and her skin was a patchwork blend of flawless and flayed flesh. Doctor Gil cleaned the wounds, which bubbled upon having any solution applied to them. The slashes were deep, and some required stitches, while others were shallow, and looked as if the skin had been peeled away from. I never knew skin looked like that when removed, red and dense. The cross shape had been burned into her neck, but Doctor Gil was of the opinion that the charred flesh would mend. We dressed her wounds and I went to one of the empty beds. I pulled aside the curtain, and dropped onto the mattress.
“Nieve,” my name was whispered shortly after, and my breath caught in my throat. Oh, Lord. What now? Who was that? I tilted my head, and saw, through a crack in the thin curtain, that Pepita was sitting up in bed, beckoning me. “Nieve, please.”
I dragged myself out of bed, despite how much my body protested for sleep. The distance was trudged one step at a time, and the back of my fingers cleared away the curtain. Pepita was sitting up, laying against her bent knees, her hands folded around her neck.
“The things she called me,” she whimpered. “In front of them. The things she called me back there.”
“Pepita. Olvida was not in control of herself.”
“I do not care,” Pepita wailed, rocking back and forth. “I am no whore. I am not.”
I settled on the bed beside her, took her shoulders and eased her hands from her neck. A bedside table was adorned with a bowl of water, a pitcher, and a couple of rags. Usually, this was used to rinse the patient’s face, or to clean blood off Doctor Gil’s hands as he worked. I dipped the rag in the water, twisted as much moisture out as I could, and then shifted on the bed so I was in front of Pepita. I began to dab her neck where the swelling was worst, or where I saw a cut. I touched the cloth to her cheeks and her forehead, carrying her tears away as they rolled down her face.
Pepita’s calm broke, and she tilted forward. I held her, balanced her brow on my shoulder with ease and rubbed her back. I had never seen Pepita so broken and conscious of herself. The pain in her neck was nothing compared to the blow her pride had taken.
“Do you want me to stay?” I asked.
Now, in the morning, she looked calm again. I cradled her head carefully, and slipped off the bed. I lay her head back down on a pillow. She stirred, her eyes opening briefly to take me in before she nestled deeper into the cushion under her cheek. When I came out from behind the curtain, I noticed that Olvida’s bed was empty.
“I have made myself clear!” I heard someone bark from outside, and retreated from the infirmary. I kept low in the garden as I walked the short path, and knelt behind a bush of tomatoes. Captain Gonzalo, with a couple of his own officers that escorted him and Olvida from the coast, was facing Father Leoncio. All of them were mounted, including Olvida. She was hunched in her saddle, holding a cloak around her shoulders. A hood was pulled over her head, hiding any other wounds. All she was not to me now was the point of her nose, and a glimpse of her eyes from around the edge of her cowl. Father Leoncio was dwarfed by the mounted posse, and surrounding him were the other soldiers.
“You have,” Father Leoncio gave in, probably reaching the end of a longer argument I had missed as I came to in the infirmary.
“We will ride for the coast, and I will be setting sail for the Yucatan within the week.”
“Hear me out,” Father Leoncio protested. “Leave us behind all you wish, Captain, but until you have finalized such arrangements with your general in Yucatan, leave us a unit. We do in fact rely on their support here within the mission.”
“Why? In case you progress? Father, your mission has been sitting like a wart on this hill for four years. There has been no progress into the mountains or into the jungles. You have made no effort to dominate these territories, so why would you need soldiers?”
“The King himself has requested that missions are protected, no matter the elements. Some times these elements cannot be predicted. Be reasonable. We are men of God, not of War. We would not know how to protect these people if something were to occur here.”
Captain Gonzalo began to circle Father Leoncio, seemingly capitalizing on some insistence he must have been mistaking as weakness. I know that the man refusing to drop to his knees and beg the Captain was stronger than any soldier I had seen since coming here. The light I saw my Father in was a bold one, and I felt invigorated, energized. More than anything, I prayed that Father Leoncio succeeded.
“You are lucky I do not flush this entire place away after what transpired with my wife, though do not mistake me. The question of whether or not you and Father Alvarelo are fit to run this mission will be brought to the attention of those in the Yucatan. I will take it to Mexico if I have to, Father. Do not worry, you will be able to state your case. I promise, you will be granted an opportunity to salvage what you can of your name and state.” Captain Gonzalo’s head whipped about, and he pointed in Lope’s direction. “Private Romero.”
“Sir!”
“You are in charge until we return with replacements.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Until then?” Father Leoncio asked, squinting at the Captain in the sunlight.
“Until then, do what you do best. Pray.” Captain Gonzalo snorted, and whipped his horse about. He trotted from the courtyard with his wife and other officers in tow. Olvida did not even look back, and slowly the soldiers began to fade back into the mission, many of them encircling Lope to pat him on the back. I stood and watched them go. Lope had hooked his thumbs on his belt, there was a swagger to his step. They disappeared into the mission, calling for someone to fetch them a drink. Of all people… Lope. Lope Romero was chosen to be in charge of the soldiers here in the mission. I had my doubts, and above those I had my fears, multiple horrors at what the mission soldiers would be like under his control. Already they stayed up late, roaring at the Tairona servants, bedding who they pleased, drinking beyond their capacity, forgoing sobriety and control for lushness and discord.
Father Leoncio was left to stand alone in the courtyard. My gaze slipped back to him, and I approached gingerly. I was not sure what mood I would find him in, but his tightly shut eyes, and his stiff posture offered me a pronounced look at a mounting frustration. I turned to leave him, but he stopped me.
“Nieve,” he called, I halted in my tracks, my habit swayed about my ankles, and I glanced over my shoulder at his still frame. “Will you pour us some tea?”
“Of course, Father Leoncio.”
“You have your class resuming soon, yes?”
“Yes, Father.”
“We will take our tea in the library then. I will call on Father Alvarelo and we will plan the curriculum from now until summer. How does this sound?”
“I am pleased with it, Father.” I ventured closer now, I was unaware that I had started to wring my hands. “However, are you happy with it?”
“Come,” he refused to answer, though I could see he longed to unleash every bit of pent up agitation he could muster. Perhaps it was best for him to find a different place - such as the schooling - to release these energies. “We will convene in the library, and hopefully our tea will not be cold.”
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Entry #16
Adan,
The rest of Christmas was truly blessed and beautiful, and the weekend had been without incident. Myself and the rest of us here at the mission thought we would escape Olvida’s visit in one piece. Sunday’s dinner had been prepared since Mass let out that morning. The courses were plentiful, enough to reduce even the soldiers to swooning over the tender meats, the sweet fruits and flan, the spicy vegetables, and the burning tequila. Liquor, wine, beer, milk, and water, all running over every glass and cup to follow the hearty meals and finger-licking desserts. Tairona played music, both with their own instruments, and ones brought over from Spain by our own men. The combination was harmonious and different, and my foot was soon tapping at its own will.
There was such happiness in the mess hall. Everyone was laughing, and telling stories over one another. Father Leoncio smiled more than once, I think, which is a feat in itself. His rosy cheeks and nose, however, indicated the cause, not to mention the drink he swirled in his hand. He and Father Alvarelo had been smoking and speaking by the fire for most of the night, and despite my hesitance in approaching Alvarelo since the chapel, I smiled at him when he offered me a grin of his own before continuing his parlance with Father Leoncio.
“He fancies you,” came a voice from behind me.
I turned and found Pepita at my back. She, too, was loitering around the outer rim of the party, watching everyone, but engaging no one.
“I doubt that, Pepita,” I shook my head, and sipping on a cup of milk.
“Men do not smile like that but for one reason.”
“He is a man of the cloth, sister, with vows that he must keep. If there is love he feels, it is the same love that our own Lord shines up on us all.”
Pepita rolled her eyes, her back thumped against the wall and she winked at me. “You keep telling yourself that one, Nieve.”
“Are you drunk, Pepita?”
“More than any man in this room, and look at me! I keep myself together better than any maiden. I am all contradiction, despite a lack of diction,” she burst into giggles, and bowed her head to my shoulder. I could not help but laugh myself.
“You are a beautiful mess tonight, Pepita.” I kissed her brow affectionately, as if she were my own little sister birthed from the jungle itself. “Truly.”
“You are a kind, and savely woman, Nieve,” she mumbled, and sighed. “I am glad I have you to talk to.”
“If… your affections are with Lope, why has Gonzalo’s wife been so difficult on you this weekend?” I glanced past her, Captain Gonzalo was kissing Olvida’s neck and shoulder. She was noticeably distant from these affections, pulling away as he played with the edge of her sleeve’s fabric.
“I asked Captain Gonzalo to come away with me - no, do not look at her, look at me! - I asked Captain Gonzalo to come away with me… what seems like ages ago now. Really, it was just a year. He denied me, and so then I denied him. Lope got me over the worst of it. When I see him with that pretty wife though… I begin to wonder what I could do or could have done.”
“I am sorry, Pepita.”
“Do not be! I am not a pitiable creature worthy of… any of it. I am happy with my lot in life, and Lope will not be here forever.”
“No?”
“No. Gonzalo is looking for any excuse to move him and his men out of this place.”
“Hermana Nieve!” Father Alvarelo called as he made his way over to both of us. “Hermana Nieve, do you dance?”
“Horribly, Father! Are you mad?”
“Absolutely. Come, dance with me!” He giggled and grabbed my wrist, pulling me into what was left of the space between the tables covered with food and drinks. Tairona servants were dancing with men from their village and with soldiers, blushing and throwing their heads back to laugh. I looked back at Pepita, who smirked knowingly and turned to melt into the crowd or revelers.
“Father Alvarelo, watch out for my feet!”
We were dancing so fast, spinning and playfully following the rhythm of the music. He was not so much better as I when it came to dancing. We were both stepping on each other’s feet, and bumping into one another constantly. Father Leoncio chuckled and shook his head from the place by the fire. We must have appeared like children to him! The soldiers were cheering Father Alvarelo on. Normally, we probably came across so straight laced and proper to them. There was nothing in our vows that said we could not dance, however, so here we were! For the moment I forgot about everything. The sounds, the disappearance, all of it. I was simply dancing and enjoying myself. I knew I would sleep well that night.
But as night descended on the mission, such knowledge would change. I had retired to bed early, and put my aching, dancing feet up for the time. I slipped under my covers after fastening the last button of my collared night gown. Outside my shutters I could hear the wind rattling, wanting to come in and whisper me to sleep. The glow of the moon encrusted the very edges of my window skill, casting the occasional silver shadow in my room. The night wanted to join me, but in no time, I had fallen asleep and joined the secretive night itself.
How long had I been sleeping, I know not. The darkness of my slumber gave way to the jungle. The under brush spread, and I was standing at a familiar lake. It was the pool I had seen in my vision with Mama Gondu. There was no sound, no creatures, and not even a cloud in the sky to damper the shine of the stars and the moon above. I crept further into this clearing dominated by the lake, and stopped on the muddy bank. A bubble broke the surface.
And a scream crashed through the night’s stillness. I could not decipher whether this was in my dream or not. Regardless, the sound had startled me and I shot awake just on time to hear the next scream. The sound pierced through the hallways of the mission, and the sound of it shook my very nerve. So much pain and terror in one constant note, cracking only as the voice gave out, taxed and useless. I burst from my room, holding a robe around me. Just as I came around my corner, I saw Doctor Gil take off down the corridor, the opposite direction from my position. Pepita was following after him.
“Pepita!” I called. “What is happening?”
Pepita whirled around, and waved for me to follow. “Olvida. Quickly, follow me. We may need your help.”
“But, Pepita, what has happened to her?”
We were running by now, and joined Father Alvarelo and Father Leoncio in Captain Gonzalo’s quarters. Father Alvarelo and Captain Gonzalo were attempting to calm a thrashing, and crying Olvida. Father Leoncio met us at the doorway, and waved us in quickly. “It started an hour ago. Hurry, look.”
I rushed forward with Doctor Gil and Pepita. Father Alvarelo and Captain Gonzalo parted from the bed, making room for us. Doctor Gil took a seat on the lip of the bed. Olvida’s slip was disarrayed, nearly exposing her. Perhaps I would be more bashful to such a state were it not for the wounds covering her skin. There were slashes, as if a large cat had attacked her, and there were gouged patches of red being exposed. She had ripped up the bedding and started stuffing and wrapping her wounds. Olvida looked at me through all of them, but her eyes were not her own. They were wide, the whites blazing around the dark spheres in the middle. Her pupils were completely dilated, and her gaze darted this way and that like a mad animal. There was blood all over the sheets, and soaking through her slip.
In an instant, she roared and grabbed at Pepita’s throat. Pepita tried to force her hand off, but the look on her face was an expression of absolute surprise at Olvida’s grip. As Captain Gonzalo and Father Alvarelo attempted to shake her grip, they too were astounded by her strength.
“The dirty little whore of Babylon herself. You think I do not know. I see you - I SEE YOU!”
Pepita could not argue or defend herself, she could hardly resist. I saw her knees buckle, and slump to the ground. She claws at Olvida’s arm, but her suffocation was restricting her from putting up much of a fight.
“Olvida, let the child go!” Captain Gonzalo called, but could not break through
Olvida’s sudden wildness.
Olvida flexed her arm, snapping Pepita closer to her. Pepita’s hands clamped into the mattress, and she offered a choked whimper. “Were you ever held like this in my bed, little whore? Were you ever held so tightly by my husband like this?”
“St…op,” Pepita rasped, but the combined strength of the Doctor Gil, Captain Gonzalo, and Father Alvarelo were not enough to overcome this preternatural force that had overcome every nerve, muscle, and essence of Olvida.
“You never wanted it to stop before. You always wanted more, my little, little whore!” I saw the fingers clench tighter into Pepita’s throat. The nurse’s eyes bulged, veins swelled against her skin in her face, and her lips were violet and quivering.
“Pl.. ea…se..” Pepita groaned hoarsely.
“Get her off,” Doctor Gil cried, but it was Father Leoncio who stepped forward. He slapped his hand to her neck, and there was a hissing sound. Olvida’s hand was thrown off, and Pepita stumbled back into my arms. I caught her, but we both slammed into the floor. When I looked up, Olvida was arched in the bed, gripping at her neck where Father Leoncio’s hand had been. He stepped back and watched her drop to the pillow and mattress, unconscious. He breathed deeply, and his fingers unfurled. His rosary unwound from his fist, and a smoking cross swung back and forth from his shaking knuckles.
The rest of Christmas was truly blessed and beautiful, and the weekend had been without incident. Myself and the rest of us here at the mission thought we would escape Olvida’s visit in one piece. Sunday’s dinner had been prepared since Mass let out that morning. The courses were plentiful, enough to reduce even the soldiers to swooning over the tender meats, the sweet fruits and flan, the spicy vegetables, and the burning tequila. Liquor, wine, beer, milk, and water, all running over every glass and cup to follow the hearty meals and finger-licking desserts. Tairona played music, both with their own instruments, and ones brought over from Spain by our own men. The combination was harmonious and different, and my foot was soon tapping at its own will.
There was such happiness in the mess hall. Everyone was laughing, and telling stories over one another. Father Leoncio smiled more than once, I think, which is a feat in itself. His rosy cheeks and nose, however, indicated the cause, not to mention the drink he swirled in his hand. He and Father Alvarelo had been smoking and speaking by the fire for most of the night, and despite my hesitance in approaching Alvarelo since the chapel, I smiled at him when he offered me a grin of his own before continuing his parlance with Father Leoncio.
“He fancies you,” came a voice from behind me.
I turned and found Pepita at my back. She, too, was loitering around the outer rim of the party, watching everyone, but engaging no one.
“I doubt that, Pepita,” I shook my head, and sipping on a cup of milk.
“Men do not smile like that but for one reason.”
“He is a man of the cloth, sister, with vows that he must keep. If there is love he feels, it is the same love that our own Lord shines up on us all.”
Pepita rolled her eyes, her back thumped against the wall and she winked at me. “You keep telling yourself that one, Nieve.”
“Are you drunk, Pepita?”
“More than any man in this room, and look at me! I keep myself together better than any maiden. I am all contradiction, despite a lack of diction,” she burst into giggles, and bowed her head to my shoulder. I could not help but laugh myself.
“You are a beautiful mess tonight, Pepita.” I kissed her brow affectionately, as if she were my own little sister birthed from the jungle itself. “Truly.”
“You are a kind, and savely woman, Nieve,” she mumbled, and sighed. “I am glad I have you to talk to.”
“If… your affections are with Lope, why has Gonzalo’s wife been so difficult on you this weekend?” I glanced past her, Captain Gonzalo was kissing Olvida’s neck and shoulder. She was noticeably distant from these affections, pulling away as he played with the edge of her sleeve’s fabric.
“I asked Captain Gonzalo to come away with me - no, do not look at her, look at me! - I asked Captain Gonzalo to come away with me… what seems like ages ago now. Really, it was just a year. He denied me, and so then I denied him. Lope got me over the worst of it. When I see him with that pretty wife though… I begin to wonder what I could do or could have done.”
“I am sorry, Pepita.”
“Do not be! I am not a pitiable creature worthy of… any of it. I am happy with my lot in life, and Lope will not be here forever.”
“No?”
“No. Gonzalo is looking for any excuse to move him and his men out of this place.”
“Hermana Nieve!” Father Alvarelo called as he made his way over to both of us. “Hermana Nieve, do you dance?”
“Horribly, Father! Are you mad?”
“Absolutely. Come, dance with me!” He giggled and grabbed my wrist, pulling me into what was left of the space between the tables covered with food and drinks. Tairona servants were dancing with men from their village and with soldiers, blushing and throwing their heads back to laugh. I looked back at Pepita, who smirked knowingly and turned to melt into the crowd or revelers.
“Father Alvarelo, watch out for my feet!”
We were dancing so fast, spinning and playfully following the rhythm of the music. He was not so much better as I when it came to dancing. We were both stepping on each other’s feet, and bumping into one another constantly. Father Leoncio chuckled and shook his head from the place by the fire. We must have appeared like children to him! The soldiers were cheering Father Alvarelo on. Normally, we probably came across so straight laced and proper to them. There was nothing in our vows that said we could not dance, however, so here we were! For the moment I forgot about everything. The sounds, the disappearance, all of it. I was simply dancing and enjoying myself. I knew I would sleep well that night.
But as night descended on the mission, such knowledge would change. I had retired to bed early, and put my aching, dancing feet up for the time. I slipped under my covers after fastening the last button of my collared night gown. Outside my shutters I could hear the wind rattling, wanting to come in and whisper me to sleep. The glow of the moon encrusted the very edges of my window skill, casting the occasional silver shadow in my room. The night wanted to join me, but in no time, I had fallen asleep and joined the secretive night itself.
How long had I been sleeping, I know not. The darkness of my slumber gave way to the jungle. The under brush spread, and I was standing at a familiar lake. It was the pool I had seen in my vision with Mama Gondu. There was no sound, no creatures, and not even a cloud in the sky to damper the shine of the stars and the moon above. I crept further into this clearing dominated by the lake, and stopped on the muddy bank. A bubble broke the surface.
And a scream crashed through the night’s stillness. I could not decipher whether this was in my dream or not. Regardless, the sound had startled me and I shot awake just on time to hear the next scream. The sound pierced through the hallways of the mission, and the sound of it shook my very nerve. So much pain and terror in one constant note, cracking only as the voice gave out, taxed and useless. I burst from my room, holding a robe around me. Just as I came around my corner, I saw Doctor Gil take off down the corridor, the opposite direction from my position. Pepita was following after him.
“Pepita!” I called. “What is happening?”
Pepita whirled around, and waved for me to follow. “Olvida. Quickly, follow me. We may need your help.”
“But, Pepita, what has happened to her?”
We were running by now, and joined Father Alvarelo and Father Leoncio in Captain Gonzalo’s quarters. Father Alvarelo and Captain Gonzalo were attempting to calm a thrashing, and crying Olvida. Father Leoncio met us at the doorway, and waved us in quickly. “It started an hour ago. Hurry, look.”
I rushed forward with Doctor Gil and Pepita. Father Alvarelo and Captain Gonzalo parted from the bed, making room for us. Doctor Gil took a seat on the lip of the bed. Olvida’s slip was disarrayed, nearly exposing her. Perhaps I would be more bashful to such a state were it not for the wounds covering her skin. There were slashes, as if a large cat had attacked her, and there were gouged patches of red being exposed. She had ripped up the bedding and started stuffing and wrapping her wounds. Olvida looked at me through all of them, but her eyes were not her own. They were wide, the whites blazing around the dark spheres in the middle. Her pupils were completely dilated, and her gaze darted this way and that like a mad animal. There was blood all over the sheets, and soaking through her slip.
In an instant, she roared and grabbed at Pepita’s throat. Pepita tried to force her hand off, but the look on her face was an expression of absolute surprise at Olvida’s grip. As Captain Gonzalo and Father Alvarelo attempted to shake her grip, they too were astounded by her strength.
“The dirty little whore of Babylon herself. You think I do not know. I see you - I SEE YOU!”
Pepita could not argue or defend herself, she could hardly resist. I saw her knees buckle, and slump to the ground. She claws at Olvida’s arm, but her suffocation was restricting her from putting up much of a fight.
“Olvida, let the child go!” Captain Gonzalo called, but could not break through
Olvida’s sudden wildness.
Olvida flexed her arm, snapping Pepita closer to her. Pepita’s hands clamped into the mattress, and she offered a choked whimper. “Were you ever held like this in my bed, little whore? Were you ever held so tightly by my husband like this?”
“St…op,” Pepita rasped, but the combined strength of the Doctor Gil, Captain Gonzalo, and Father Alvarelo were not enough to overcome this preternatural force that had overcome every nerve, muscle, and essence of Olvida.
“You never wanted it to stop before. You always wanted more, my little, little whore!” I saw the fingers clench tighter into Pepita’s throat. The nurse’s eyes bulged, veins swelled against her skin in her face, and her lips were violet and quivering.
“Pl.. ea…se..” Pepita groaned hoarsely.
“Get her off,” Doctor Gil cried, but it was Father Leoncio who stepped forward. He slapped his hand to her neck, and there was a hissing sound. Olvida’s hand was thrown off, and Pepita stumbled back into my arms. I caught her, but we both slammed into the floor. When I looked up, Olvida was arched in the bed, gripping at her neck where Father Leoncio’s hand had been. He stepped back and watched her drop to the pillow and mattress, unconscious. He breathed deeply, and his fingers unfurled. His rosary unwound from his fist, and a smoking cross swung back and forth from his shaking knuckles.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Entry #15
Adan, I know I have not written in a while.
A month has passed like ages, which has fed my guilty inscription now. I feel as if I have been away from you for thirty years rather than thirty days. The month has been arduous, long, and fruitless. We searched for Carmen day and night. Mama Gondu and the others of his village in the jungle were of great help. They navigated the jungle effortlessly, pushing through the bush in such a way that no nature came to great harm. Search parties began to operate in shifts, but I knew by the end of the first week that our hunt would come to a close. I remember one night while I was eating in the mess, Father Alvarelo had just come back with Lope and the others. He put his hand on my shoulder, and smiled sadly before I could even ask my question.
“She is alive,” I concentrated on the food I had up until then been neglecting. “I know she is alive.”
Lope interjected. “She is gone. Do you understand what that means? You may want to start mourning, Hermana, my men cannot continue.”
I remember boiling over with tears. Perhaps if it had been anyone but Lope, perhaps if I had even mastered some sleep I could have exercised temperance. My food knocked over as I stood swiftly from my seat. “They cannot continue? You are soldiers! Lord, I would hate to see your perseverance were an actual war to meet you one day!”
Lope advanced on me, and Father Alvarelo played peacemaker. “Leave her,” he said. “You leave her, now.” I received a steely glare from Lope, who waved his men to follow him as he stormed from the mess.
I dropped into my seat, buried my face in my hands. “I did not mean that.”
“You must mind your tongue around Lope. He - ”
“I know what he can do. A man who sharpens his fists on the fairer sex is no man at all, he has not enough value to even be a shame to his own race.”
Father Alvarelo stared. He cracked a smile, he bowed his head, he laughed, and I laughed with him.
“I am sorry,” my fingers fanned over my lips. “I am not myself. If the Mother had heard me then, my oh my. I would revert to candidacy if I was not chased into the Seville hills at once instead.”
I was silent, my smile fading. Thinking of Seville made me think of Carmen, and I could not bring myself to laugh any more.
“Father Alvarelo, I cannot stop thinking of her.”
“I know,” he lay his hand gently on my back.
“She is alone. She is alive, and alone. I know she is still alive.”
“How?” Father Alvarelo's brows knit, he leaned forward. “How when we have found no sign, not trace of her?”
“You may call this some poorly placed optimism, and I would not argue in return that it is my faith that keeps her alive in those jungles.”
“Then what?”
“It is a feeling, and it is palpable, as real as you are to me now. I know. I simply know.”
A week later and the search was called off. I was distraught, and unless my Lord required me in the church, I rarely left my room. Father Alvarelo managed to lure me out occasionally to eat with him, and if I ever did make it to mess or mass, Father Leoncio would usually ask me questions regarding our faith, regarding the world at large to keep me from retreating to my room. Pepita also would encourage me to help her in the infirmary, and Doctor Gil kept me busy with some light gardening. Eventually, I was in the habit of a regular schedule that brought me around to mess, saw me reading silently in the library and attending all mass. There was a comfort in prayer, a comfort that for the last few weeks I had missed, and was happy to return to. I believe everyone else was happy to see me return to some semblance of 'normalcy' as well.
Day Mass on Christmas, and there is a crisp turn of the wind as it cuts through the air. All are present. My students have even come with their families to participate. Captain Gonzalo is there as promised. He has come with a woman, one I can only assume is the wife Pepita has mentioned before. Pepita is noticeably further removed from his presence, more so than usual when he is around. She is even far from Lope. I saw her from my place at Carmen's organ (since she has gone I have started to play the music for the services). Occasionally, in the midst of recitation in the service, I see her eying Captain Gonzalo and his wife from over her book.
Gonzalo's wife is very pretty, very dignified. She reminds me of a noble woman. Perhaps she is from such blood. Her skin is clean, smooth as far as I can tell from my place at the organ. She is dressed conservatively for church, save for some of her skirt which is dark red with a black lace detail. Her eyes are almond shaped, dark, and quite entrance. Gonzalo is affectionate as he can be in church, holding her hand when they are seated again and listening to Father Alvarelo's sermon. Why would Gonzalo turn from a woman like this? Is she cruel? Is she too doting? Stifling, or far too aloof?
“Psst,” Father Leoncio hissed from his shoulder, and my fingers jumped onto the keys. There was no whispered apology from me. A missed queue in church was not enough to throw off the Day Mass. Truly, the service was something peaceful after such a hectic month. Probably why my thoughts were so free to ramble.
After the Day Mass, Gonzalo and his wife broke away from the crowd so that Gonzalo could treat her to a tour of the mission. I watched them from Doctor Gil's garden, a place I often reported to after services for weeding and cultivating. Gonzalo's wife strode with such grace, in a way she seemed ethereal and charming. I wanted more than anything to approach her and introduce myself. There was something altogether fascinating about the spouse.
“I see you have noticed Olvida,” Doctor Gil said from his place under the herbs. He was wearing thick gloves and flexing a pair of shears open and shut idly as he followed my gaze.
“How long have they been married?”
“Oh, years now.”
“I see.”
“They have an odd sort of relationship.”
“How so, Doctor?”
“I try not to gossip. If anything what I say is to keep you from asking or saying anything that might put her out.”
I canted my head to the side. What he said has piqued my curiosity.
He pocketed his shears in his apron and stood, wiping dirt off his gloved hands. “Even before they came here, they tried for a child. Olvida, though. Olvida has had trouble conceiving. They try when they can, and ultimately, she has had no children. I feel he has begun to give up. He is desperate for a son, though.”
“Why?”
“There is a history of poor health in his family. He is about to reach an age where his fathers and fathers before them met with some complications. Though he is well-rounded when it comes to his health and endurance, the man is afraid he will be seized before he can conceive a boy.”
A few things fell into place for me in regards to Gonzalo, Olvida, Pepita. At that very moment some of the motivations made sense, though it was not in my place to think any further. I had to dismiss this from my mind. The business was not mine, and I had pried far enough, I think. I watched Gonzalo cross the courtyard with Olvida. They were approaching us, and the Doctor and I put on our friendliest faces.
“Doctor Gil. Hermana Nieve. This is my wife – Olvida. She is up from the coast for Christmas this year.”
The doctor tipped his brimmed hat, and smiled widely. “A pleasure to see you again, signora.”
“And you, Doctor Gil.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
“Hermana Nieve,” Captain Gonzalo gestured to my little classroom across the courtyard. “I am needing to speak to Lope for just the moment. Would you mind giving my wife a tour of your class?”
“Not at all,” I nodded to Olvida. “Please, signora, follow me.”
Captain Gonzalo was off, and I left the garden to lead Olvida to the little hovel that would open its doors back up for class again soon. The children would be such a relief. I had not seen them for so long, and they had already expressed at mass how they were so excited about seeing their favorite teacher again. I unclasped a ring of keys from the sash around my habit, and flipped up the key to my class. The door was unlocked, and I held it open for Signora Gonzalo.
“It is a little dusty, and it's not usually so quiet. The students will be back again after Christmas.”
“It is very nice, Hermana... Nieve, was it?”
“Yes, signora.”
“Please. I am Olvida. You do not need to be so formal with me.”
“Very well, Olvida.”
“Do you enjoy the jungle, Nieve?”
“Yes, signora. The Tairona have been very hospitable.”
“The soldiers have behaved?”
I blushed. “Yes, signora,” I cleared my throat, “I mean, Olvida.”
“You do what I cannot. There is something about this place that irks me.”
I thought back to the library, and I do not think I would ever - could ever - forget Carmen’s dream and demeanor before her disappearance. The figure at my door, the way candles would huff into a trail of smoke, even without the help of any exhalation or passing draught. How Father Alvarelo turned to me the morning of her disappearance and told me, in all seriousness the need for an exorcism.
“What is it that vexes you, Olvida?”
“I cannot describe my notions. Only that I hate coming here. I always feel as if I am being watched by someone. I never feel particularly alone.”
The door was opened at that very moment, startling me. Olvida offered an embarrassed smile. I think she was somewhat astonished by the sudden noise as well. Standing in the doorway was Captain Gonzalo. He smiled, and leaned in the doorway. “I was thinking we could take a ride through the jungle, my dear, before the next mass today. There will not be much time between that and Christmas dinner.”
“Of course, husband,” she nodded, collecting her thoughts. She stood, and took my hand tenderly in both of hers. “Hermana Nieve, so nice to meet you. I will have to catch up with you again later.”
“Yes, Olvida. A pleasure to meet you as well, please, enjoy your stay here.”
A month has passed like ages, which has fed my guilty inscription now. I feel as if I have been away from you for thirty years rather than thirty days. The month has been arduous, long, and fruitless. We searched for Carmen day and night. Mama Gondu and the others of his village in the jungle were of great help. They navigated the jungle effortlessly, pushing through the bush in such a way that no nature came to great harm. Search parties began to operate in shifts, but I knew by the end of the first week that our hunt would come to a close. I remember one night while I was eating in the mess, Father Alvarelo had just come back with Lope and the others. He put his hand on my shoulder, and smiled sadly before I could even ask my question.
“She is alive,” I concentrated on the food I had up until then been neglecting. “I know she is alive.”
Lope interjected. “She is gone. Do you understand what that means? You may want to start mourning, Hermana, my men cannot continue.”
I remember boiling over with tears. Perhaps if it had been anyone but Lope, perhaps if I had even mastered some sleep I could have exercised temperance. My food knocked over as I stood swiftly from my seat. “They cannot continue? You are soldiers! Lord, I would hate to see your perseverance were an actual war to meet you one day!”
Lope advanced on me, and Father Alvarelo played peacemaker. “Leave her,” he said. “You leave her, now.” I received a steely glare from Lope, who waved his men to follow him as he stormed from the mess.
I dropped into my seat, buried my face in my hands. “I did not mean that.”
“You must mind your tongue around Lope. He - ”
“I know what he can do. A man who sharpens his fists on the fairer sex is no man at all, he has not enough value to even be a shame to his own race.”
Father Alvarelo stared. He cracked a smile, he bowed his head, he laughed, and I laughed with him.
“I am sorry,” my fingers fanned over my lips. “I am not myself. If the Mother had heard me then, my oh my. I would revert to candidacy if I was not chased into the Seville hills at once instead.”
I was silent, my smile fading. Thinking of Seville made me think of Carmen, and I could not bring myself to laugh any more.
“Father Alvarelo, I cannot stop thinking of her.”
“I know,” he lay his hand gently on my back.
“She is alone. She is alive, and alone. I know she is still alive.”
“How?” Father Alvarelo's brows knit, he leaned forward. “How when we have found no sign, not trace of her?”
“You may call this some poorly placed optimism, and I would not argue in return that it is my faith that keeps her alive in those jungles.”
“Then what?”
“It is a feeling, and it is palpable, as real as you are to me now. I know. I simply know.”
A week later and the search was called off. I was distraught, and unless my Lord required me in the church, I rarely left my room. Father Alvarelo managed to lure me out occasionally to eat with him, and if I ever did make it to mess or mass, Father Leoncio would usually ask me questions regarding our faith, regarding the world at large to keep me from retreating to my room. Pepita also would encourage me to help her in the infirmary, and Doctor Gil kept me busy with some light gardening. Eventually, I was in the habit of a regular schedule that brought me around to mess, saw me reading silently in the library and attending all mass. There was a comfort in prayer, a comfort that for the last few weeks I had missed, and was happy to return to. I believe everyone else was happy to see me return to some semblance of 'normalcy' as well.
Day Mass on Christmas, and there is a crisp turn of the wind as it cuts through the air. All are present. My students have even come with their families to participate. Captain Gonzalo is there as promised. He has come with a woman, one I can only assume is the wife Pepita has mentioned before. Pepita is noticeably further removed from his presence, more so than usual when he is around. She is even far from Lope. I saw her from my place at Carmen's organ (since she has gone I have started to play the music for the services). Occasionally, in the midst of recitation in the service, I see her eying Captain Gonzalo and his wife from over her book.
Gonzalo's wife is very pretty, very dignified. She reminds me of a noble woman. Perhaps she is from such blood. Her skin is clean, smooth as far as I can tell from my place at the organ. She is dressed conservatively for church, save for some of her skirt which is dark red with a black lace detail. Her eyes are almond shaped, dark, and quite entrance. Gonzalo is affectionate as he can be in church, holding her hand when they are seated again and listening to Father Alvarelo's sermon. Why would Gonzalo turn from a woman like this? Is she cruel? Is she too doting? Stifling, or far too aloof?
“Psst,” Father Leoncio hissed from his shoulder, and my fingers jumped onto the keys. There was no whispered apology from me. A missed queue in church was not enough to throw off the Day Mass. Truly, the service was something peaceful after such a hectic month. Probably why my thoughts were so free to ramble.
After the Day Mass, Gonzalo and his wife broke away from the crowd so that Gonzalo could treat her to a tour of the mission. I watched them from Doctor Gil's garden, a place I often reported to after services for weeding and cultivating. Gonzalo's wife strode with such grace, in a way she seemed ethereal and charming. I wanted more than anything to approach her and introduce myself. There was something altogether fascinating about the spouse.
“I see you have noticed Olvida,” Doctor Gil said from his place under the herbs. He was wearing thick gloves and flexing a pair of shears open and shut idly as he followed my gaze.
“How long have they been married?”
“Oh, years now.”
“I see.”
“They have an odd sort of relationship.”
“How so, Doctor?”
“I try not to gossip. If anything what I say is to keep you from asking or saying anything that might put her out.”
I canted my head to the side. What he said has piqued my curiosity.
He pocketed his shears in his apron and stood, wiping dirt off his gloved hands. “Even before they came here, they tried for a child. Olvida, though. Olvida has had trouble conceiving. They try when they can, and ultimately, she has had no children. I feel he has begun to give up. He is desperate for a son, though.”
“Why?”
“There is a history of poor health in his family. He is about to reach an age where his fathers and fathers before them met with some complications. Though he is well-rounded when it comes to his health and endurance, the man is afraid he will be seized before he can conceive a boy.”
A few things fell into place for me in regards to Gonzalo, Olvida, Pepita. At that very moment some of the motivations made sense, though it was not in my place to think any further. I had to dismiss this from my mind. The business was not mine, and I had pried far enough, I think. I watched Gonzalo cross the courtyard with Olvida. They were approaching us, and the Doctor and I put on our friendliest faces.
“Doctor Gil. Hermana Nieve. This is my wife – Olvida. She is up from the coast for Christmas this year.”
The doctor tipped his brimmed hat, and smiled widely. “A pleasure to see you again, signora.”
“And you, Doctor Gil.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
“Hermana Nieve,” Captain Gonzalo gestured to my little classroom across the courtyard. “I am needing to speak to Lope for just the moment. Would you mind giving my wife a tour of your class?”
“Not at all,” I nodded to Olvida. “Please, signora, follow me.”
Captain Gonzalo was off, and I left the garden to lead Olvida to the little hovel that would open its doors back up for class again soon. The children would be such a relief. I had not seen them for so long, and they had already expressed at mass how they were so excited about seeing their favorite teacher again. I unclasped a ring of keys from the sash around my habit, and flipped up the key to my class. The door was unlocked, and I held it open for Signora Gonzalo.
“It is a little dusty, and it's not usually so quiet. The students will be back again after Christmas.”
“It is very nice, Hermana... Nieve, was it?”
“Yes, signora.”
“Please. I am Olvida. You do not need to be so formal with me.”
“Very well, Olvida.”
“Do you enjoy the jungle, Nieve?”
“Yes, signora. The Tairona have been very hospitable.”
“The soldiers have behaved?”
I blushed. “Yes, signora,” I cleared my throat, “I mean, Olvida.”
“You do what I cannot. There is something about this place that irks me.”
I thought back to the library, and I do not think I would ever - could ever - forget Carmen’s dream and demeanor before her disappearance. The figure at my door, the way candles would huff into a trail of smoke, even without the help of any exhalation or passing draught. How Father Alvarelo turned to me the morning of her disappearance and told me, in all seriousness the need for an exorcism.
“What is it that vexes you, Olvida?”
“I cannot describe my notions. Only that I hate coming here. I always feel as if I am being watched by someone. I never feel particularly alone.”
The door was opened at that very moment, startling me. Olvida offered an embarrassed smile. I think she was somewhat astonished by the sudden noise as well. Standing in the doorway was Captain Gonzalo. He smiled, and leaned in the doorway. “I was thinking we could take a ride through the jungle, my dear, before the next mass today. There will not be much time between that and Christmas dinner.”
“Of course, husband,” she nodded, collecting her thoughts. She stood, and took my hand tenderly in both of hers. “Hermana Nieve, so nice to meet you. I will have to catch up with you again later.”
“Yes, Olvida. A pleasure to meet you as well, please, enjoy your stay here.”
Thursday, November 12, 2009
(Excerpt Recovered)
(Continued from Entry #14)
I slept in a hut with a small family that night. I woke to sunny rays coming through the doorway. Brighter than the sun, burning through a now thin, morning fog, were the two faces of students I had not seen in the last couple of weeks.
“Oh, look at you,” I breathed, and reached for them. They smiled nervously, but the moment we embraced they seemed to relax.
“We miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Not class though,” the other joked, and I playfully hit his shoulder.
“How rude!”
He giggled, and shuffled his feet. “We can come back soon?”
“Come back for Christmas. That is very soon.”
“Here,” came a woman’s voice. “Let your teacher wake up. Here, dear, have some breakfast.” Metate prepared bread, and fruit. The children must have told her my favorites were pawpwas, they were dominating the plate that was set before me. I finished it all by emptying the cup of water she had brought for me.
Father Alvarelo was speaking with Mama Gondu when I was finally ready to leave my little pupils and their kind mother. Their father had brought me a poncho, which upon further privacy I changed into. My habit was tucked under my arm, and I pulled the poncho’s hood over my head. Mama Gondu smiled brightly when I appeared wearing the woven poncho.
“Look at her, my little Tairona sister,” he embraced me, and held my cheek in one hand. “You are much better today, yes?”
“Yes. I am sorry for… any viciousness I may have done last night.”
“You were afraid,” he kissed the crown of my head, and nodded to the boys that had brought us our horses. “When you return home, I want you to keep a close eye on your Carmen. She still has much to go through.”
"Yes, Mama Gondu.”
I climbed into my saddle, Father Alvarelo into his. We bid more farewells, and moved back into the jungle. The leaves were caressed by tumbling raindrops that had not yet been burned away by the sun. These glass beads tugged down the tip of their leaves, and the leaves would rebound after the drop released and soaked into the ground. There were birds calling back and forth in the canopy, and little creatures running amock in the under brush while the bugs buzzed and chirped. Father Alvarelo was noticeably quiet.
“Are you well, Father Alvarelo?”
He looked at me as if I were crazy. “How can you pretend? Do you remember last night?”
“Yes,” I said softly. “I just want to get back to Carmen.”
“This is about Carmen. My thoughts are heavy regarding her. She is sicker than we once thought.”
I brought my horse around, cutting off the progress of his own, and fixed him with my stare. “What did Mama Gondu tell you?”
Father Alvarelo sighed deeply. “We may have to perform an exorcism.”
But upon our arrival to the mission, there was chaos. Servants and soldiers were bustling, running back and forth across the courtyard. Doctor Gil had his arms crossed outside of his infirmary, shaking his head to Father Leoncio’s fervent questioning. Pepita appeared withdrawn as well, her hands deep in her apron pockets. All of them were sleepless in their appearance, resembling ghosts that they needed only to drift on their tiptoes to complete the image. Father Alvarelo and I kicked our horses into trots, and cleared the courtyard in a matter of moments. We pulled our horses to a halt along side of them, the beasts throwing back their heads sharply in protest to such a sudden stop.
Father Alvarelo’s teeth were gritting. “Gabriel,” he said to Father Leoncio, “what is happening? Is everything all right?”
“It’s Carmen…” He said grimly.
My heart stopped. I threw myself from my horses, and pushed through Doctor Gil and Pepita. I scrambled through the infirmary, dropping my habit to the floor and tearing open the white curtain that once hid Carmen only to find an empty bed. The covers were not turned down, but thrown off. Her slippers were missing, as was her robe.
I re-emerged from the infirmary, ran down the thin garden path, and joined the group once more. “Did she pass?” I was shaking all over. They were all so solemn, and in the end it was Pepita who had the courage to break the heavy silence I had just encountered.
“She is gone, Nieve.”
I slept in a hut with a small family that night. I woke to sunny rays coming through the doorway. Brighter than the sun, burning through a now thin, morning fog, were the two faces of students I had not seen in the last couple of weeks.
“Oh, look at you,” I breathed, and reached for them. They smiled nervously, but the moment we embraced they seemed to relax.
“We miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Not class though,” the other joked, and I playfully hit his shoulder.
“How rude!”
He giggled, and shuffled his feet. “We can come back soon?”
“Come back for Christmas. That is very soon.”
“Here,” came a woman’s voice. “Let your teacher wake up. Here, dear, have some breakfast.” Metate prepared bread, and fruit. The children must have told her my favorites were pawpwas, they were dominating the plate that was set before me. I finished it all by emptying the cup of water she had brought for me.
Father Alvarelo was speaking with Mama Gondu when I was finally ready to leave my little pupils and their kind mother. Their father had brought me a poncho, which upon further privacy I changed into. My habit was tucked under my arm, and I pulled the poncho’s hood over my head. Mama Gondu smiled brightly when I appeared wearing the woven poncho.
“Look at her, my little Tairona sister,” he embraced me, and held my cheek in one hand. “You are much better today, yes?”
“Yes. I am sorry for… any viciousness I may have done last night.”
“You were afraid,” he kissed the crown of my head, and nodded to the boys that had brought us our horses. “When you return home, I want you to keep a close eye on your Carmen. She still has much to go through.”
"Yes, Mama Gondu.”
I climbed into my saddle, Father Alvarelo into his. We bid more farewells, and moved back into the jungle. The leaves were caressed by tumbling raindrops that had not yet been burned away by the sun. These glass beads tugged down the tip of their leaves, and the leaves would rebound after the drop released and soaked into the ground. There were birds calling back and forth in the canopy, and little creatures running amock in the under brush while the bugs buzzed and chirped. Father Alvarelo was noticeably quiet.
“Are you well, Father Alvarelo?”
He looked at me as if I were crazy. “How can you pretend? Do you remember last night?”
“Yes,” I said softly. “I just want to get back to Carmen.”
“This is about Carmen. My thoughts are heavy regarding her. She is sicker than we once thought.”
I brought my horse around, cutting off the progress of his own, and fixed him with my stare. “What did Mama Gondu tell you?”
Father Alvarelo sighed deeply. “We may have to perform an exorcism.”
But upon our arrival to the mission, there was chaos. Servants and soldiers were bustling, running back and forth across the courtyard. Doctor Gil had his arms crossed outside of his infirmary, shaking his head to Father Leoncio’s fervent questioning. Pepita appeared withdrawn as well, her hands deep in her apron pockets. All of them were sleepless in their appearance, resembling ghosts that they needed only to drift on their tiptoes to complete the image. Father Alvarelo and I kicked our horses into trots, and cleared the courtyard in a matter of moments. We pulled our horses to a halt along side of them, the beasts throwing back their heads sharply in protest to such a sudden stop.
Father Alvarelo’s teeth were gritting. “Gabriel,” he said to Father Leoncio, “what is happening? Is everything all right?”
“It’s Carmen…” He said grimly.
My heart stopped. I threw myself from my horses, and pushed through Doctor Gil and Pepita. I scrambled through the infirmary, dropping my habit to the floor and tearing open the white curtain that once hid Carmen only to find an empty bed. The covers were not turned down, but thrown off. Her slippers were missing, as was her robe.
I re-emerged from the infirmary, ran down the thin garden path, and joined the group once more. “Did she pass?” I was shaking all over. They were all so solemn, and in the end it was Pepita who had the courage to break the heavy silence I had just encountered.
“She is gone, Nieve.”
Entry #14
What a strange night, Adan. My nights have become so strange.
I cannot remember my last peaceful evening. The only one I can really, truly recall in the midst of Carmen’s sickness is a night I spent reading to her before falling asleep in my chair. I remember the stillness of that night, how settling it was, and as the morning rose, so too did Carmen in another feverish fit, chasing away the unmoving, cool night. Those few hours though, they were wonderful. I did not dream, I did not suffer any night terrors, or nightmares. I experienced a neutral, black sleep. No images, pleasant or otherwise, dared come near. I still pray - not only for Carmen’s health - but for another night such as that.
Father Alvarelo and I saddled our horses. I was still a little clumsy, and before I mounted up, Father Adan tightened the belt encircling my beast’s belly. I climbed into the saddle, and followed him down the hill from the mission. There were eyes on us in the village. Where usually conversation carried on, dialogues came to a whispering halt, and gazes upturned to the father and I. Word of my fallen sister was spreading. I could tell. They were afraid, tense, and had a hostile doubt that made them sit up straighter, poised as though they would fight or fly, race or stand their ground.
Such silence followed us into the jungle where the branches swayed in the occasionally sharp wind. The path did not seem as clear as it did the first night Father Alavarelo took me to the village. Our way was furthered clouded as we ascended into the mists of the forest. The foggy maw consumed us and swallowed us further down the path. We went around the bridge this time until it dipped to meet another path. Above the canopy, through the blanket of clouds surrounding us, we heard a rumble in the sky, and the scent of rain was on the wind. I was reminded of the dark storm prowling the horizon before I even arrived in Santa Marta, and a shiver ran down my spine.
The road curved up again, making its way to the other side of the bridge. We rode into camp at a slow walk, the knocks of our horses’ hooves on the ground announced our arrival. The village was silent tonight. On previous visits over the last couple months I had heard the hiss of a woman working on a tall loom, the giggles of children up passed their bed timefollowed by mother chastisement. Men playing games, men holding discussion over fires as the women had their own whispered smiles and stories in front of their huts.
Mama Gondu separated himself from a group gathered outside of a much larger hut. I recognized the hovel. The men would usually gather there for religious deliberation, and sometimes would not emerge for hours. Mama Gondu approached us as the other mamas moved into the hut.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. In the time since my first visit I had learned much more of his language. Deciphering him was easier, though I still would have to occasionally urge Tairona to speak a little slower.
“Of course,” Father Alvarelo and the mama embraced, and the mama in turn took me into his arms.
“I have heard of your trials.”
“Not so much as Carmen’s. She has suffered so much,” I returned his embrace, and he held my shoulders to end this union.
“Your Father Alvarelo is much like a son to me, and you… my little sister Nieve, you are just as cherished. I am afraid, however, that your safety - and ours - has come into question. Myself and the mamas want you to tell us of Carmen’s matter.”
I looked at Father Alvarelo. He offered a slow, encouraging nod. Not that I would refuse the mama, he had been so kind to me, but I was reticent. Only the mama were allowed in those huts. They saw Father Alvarelo as a mama, but me? No matter. I would indulge him, and perhaps it would help if for once I was the one who confessed. Father Alvarelo and I followed Mama Gondu into his hut. A tightly woven cover, the loom pattern beautiful, was bound shut behind us. There was a fire burning in the center. Smoke trailed through the roof’s open shaft, and vented the charred fluff into the air stirring with thunder and the promise of rain.
What I noticed first about this hovel, other than all the attention directed at myself and Father Alvarelo, was the intense heat. I had already started to sweat before I took my seat around a small, smoking gourd. I smelled something heady and floral coming from inside, and yet and edge of sappiness. What were they concocting? In front of us were ceramic cups, all with pointed sticks in them. Mama Gondu took a seat in front of me. He had a mask worn around his neck, the face just barely hanging across his narrow chest. The nodded, and each one of us took turns in dipping the tick in the gourd. I instantly recognized the coca, and stiffened. I had heard it was an aphrodisiac from Pepita, or regularly chewed it. The children also enjoyed doing impressions of Mamas in trance, working their jaw to chew at imaginary coca, while walking stiffly like the living dead.
Father Alvarelo was already chewing, and he looked to me. Another permissive nod, though I was still unsure. I tucked the stick in my mouth, worked the sticky end to my cheek, and pulled off the coca leaves. I began to chew, though the taste was wretched. Father Alvarelo leaned back, crossed his legs together, and let his hands drape over his knees.
“Nieve,” Mama Gondu began. “When did Carmen become sick?”
“A couple months ago.”
“Severely or gradually?”
“Gradually, though in the last week severe.”
“Nieve, has Carmen ever been so sick?”
“No, Mama Gondu. This is new to me.”
I was becoming dizzy.
“How many years have you been in your tribe?”
“I was raised catholic, Mama Gondu. I was a candidate two years ago.”
More coca was taken by the men, and I weakly followed suit.
“Why did you come here?”
“I want to be an anchoress. I want to help people.”
“Why did Carmen come here?”
“We were both assigned. She saw this as her duty. I think she was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“The jungle.”
“What of the jungle?”
“Stranger,” I murmured, my eyes drifted shut and opened slowly. The room was spinning, the faces were all melting, and then the hut began to shrink away from me. I had trouble reacting beyond the natural sweat that had began to blossom across my brow. “The jungle,” I muttered, and suddenly, two hands were around my face, cradling my cheeks.
There was me and the Mask. Mama Gondu’s voice came from behind the grimacing mouth and the sharp colors striping under the slits. I flinched, and tried to pull away.
“Shhh,” came Mama Gondu’s soothing whisper. His thumbs rubbed the arch of my cheek just under my gaze. A relief went through me, and the darkness that surrounded us began to melt away. We were standing in a shallow, clear pool, the jungle reflected and watching us. We were engulfed in mist, every bit of it chilling in contrast with the warm air and the soothing temperature of the pool. “Tell me about the stranger.”
“Carmen sees a man,” I shivered, my mouth was filled with the taste of sap, caked into the corners of my lips, sinking into the thin flesh of my gums.
“Where is Carmen?”
“She is on a path.”
“Is she unafraid?”
“No, she is frightened.”
“Tell me about the man.”
“I do not know, this is not my dream.”
“How did you feel when Carmen told you about the man?”
“So scared. A pit opened in my stomach, and I felt that all of me had been sucked through. My heart felt like a block of ice. I was so frightened, Mama Gondu.”
“What does the man do?”
“He beckons her. His touch is hot. She says it burns her. Blisters swell and burst from her skin. He promises her he can cool her.”
“What does the man do?”
“I do not want to say,” I did not weep, but tears pooled, and then spilled over my cheeks.
“Tell me.”
“Carmen has not gone to him yet. She knows he will take her, and she knows she will never find the path again.” A terror seized me. “Someone is here.”
“Nieve.”
“No, no,” I saw a shadow on the bank. “No, no, no, someone is here!” I shrilled.
“Nieve, no one can harm us here.”
“He is on the shore, he wants me. He wants Carmen.”
“Concentrate, Nieve. Look into my face - ”
“No MORE!”
I wrenched myself free, and fell to my knees in the water. The pool splashed around me, and as the water landed to rejoin the glassy surface, the jungle faded. I was surrounded by blackness again, and then the dim light of the hut. I was on my back, shuddering and breathing deeply. Father Alvarelo pushed past Mama Gondu, and gathered me into his arms.
“Nieve! Nieve! Can you hear me?”
“Air. I need air.”
Father Alvarelo tore out of the hut with me. The rain was falling, and splashed my face. I managed to roll out of Father Alvarelo’s arms. I pushed from him, nearly fell into the soil that had started to soften into mud.
“You tricked me!” I screamed. I had taken so much over the last couple days, I could no longer keep my emotions inside. The coca was not aiding in any self-control. I was furious, I felt - “You used me. You used me, you horrible man.”
“Hermana Nieve!” Father Alvarelo seized me before I could run off into the jungle. “Calm yourself.”
“Keep your hands off of me. You and Mama Gondu, you have abused me. You have used my experience. You never told me what would happen - ”
“Nieve, I was not sure you would let him.”
“Had you been an honest man I would not have cared so much, I could have lasted longer. You lied to me, and such cruelty and thoughtlessness can cripple even the strongest.”
“I am sorry…”
“How can I forgive you?” I attacked him.
“Please, control yourself!” Father Alvarelo caught my wrists tightly.
“How could you?” I screamed, and spat at him.
He shoved me against the tree behind me, came close to me. From head to toe, Father Alvarelo shivered. He cradled my cheeks, and kissed my brow with a trembling mouth. I gasped, rain water pouring down my face, sinking through my clothes, and swimming in the very blood racing beneath my skin.
“I beg of you,” he whispered, “be still.”
He watched me in the falling rain, his eyes filled with tears, the drops from the sky already washed my spittle away. The rain was sobering and cool. I broke into tears, I sobbed and he held me tightly.
“You should have said something. I would have been stronger a little longer. You broke me with your lie.”
“I was afraid as well, Nieve. I should have been honest, and I should have trusted you. Please,” he held the back of my neck, and my head was bowed to his shoulder, “find a way to forgive me.”
We were silent in the storm until Mama Gondu found us. He approached, and drew his arms around us both. His mask hung around his neck once more, and rain wept through the grooves of its colorful features. His true face, however, was gray, dark, and exhausted.
“Stay with us tonight, my Young Brother, and my Young Sister. We will care for your horses, we will feed you in the morning, only you should rest now.”
I cannot remember my last peaceful evening. The only one I can really, truly recall in the midst of Carmen’s sickness is a night I spent reading to her before falling asleep in my chair. I remember the stillness of that night, how settling it was, and as the morning rose, so too did Carmen in another feverish fit, chasing away the unmoving, cool night. Those few hours though, they were wonderful. I did not dream, I did not suffer any night terrors, or nightmares. I experienced a neutral, black sleep. No images, pleasant or otherwise, dared come near. I still pray - not only for Carmen’s health - but for another night such as that.
Father Alvarelo and I saddled our horses. I was still a little clumsy, and before I mounted up, Father Adan tightened the belt encircling my beast’s belly. I climbed into the saddle, and followed him down the hill from the mission. There were eyes on us in the village. Where usually conversation carried on, dialogues came to a whispering halt, and gazes upturned to the father and I. Word of my fallen sister was spreading. I could tell. They were afraid, tense, and had a hostile doubt that made them sit up straighter, poised as though they would fight or fly, race or stand their ground.
Such silence followed us into the jungle where the branches swayed in the occasionally sharp wind. The path did not seem as clear as it did the first night Father Alavarelo took me to the village. Our way was furthered clouded as we ascended into the mists of the forest. The foggy maw consumed us and swallowed us further down the path. We went around the bridge this time until it dipped to meet another path. Above the canopy, through the blanket of clouds surrounding us, we heard a rumble in the sky, and the scent of rain was on the wind. I was reminded of the dark storm prowling the horizon before I even arrived in Santa Marta, and a shiver ran down my spine.
The road curved up again, making its way to the other side of the bridge. We rode into camp at a slow walk, the knocks of our horses’ hooves on the ground announced our arrival. The village was silent tonight. On previous visits over the last couple months I had heard the hiss of a woman working on a tall loom, the giggles of children up passed their bed timefollowed by mother chastisement. Men playing games, men holding discussion over fires as the women had their own whispered smiles and stories in front of their huts.
Mama Gondu separated himself from a group gathered outside of a much larger hut. I recognized the hovel. The men would usually gather there for religious deliberation, and sometimes would not emerge for hours. Mama Gondu approached us as the other mamas moved into the hut.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. In the time since my first visit I had learned much more of his language. Deciphering him was easier, though I still would have to occasionally urge Tairona to speak a little slower.
“Of course,” Father Alvarelo and the mama embraced, and the mama in turn took me into his arms.
“I have heard of your trials.”
“Not so much as Carmen’s. She has suffered so much,” I returned his embrace, and he held my shoulders to end this union.
“Your Father Alvarelo is much like a son to me, and you… my little sister Nieve, you are just as cherished. I am afraid, however, that your safety - and ours - has come into question. Myself and the mamas want you to tell us of Carmen’s matter.”
I looked at Father Alvarelo. He offered a slow, encouraging nod. Not that I would refuse the mama, he had been so kind to me, but I was reticent. Only the mama were allowed in those huts. They saw Father Alvarelo as a mama, but me? No matter. I would indulge him, and perhaps it would help if for once I was the one who confessed. Father Alvarelo and I followed Mama Gondu into his hut. A tightly woven cover, the loom pattern beautiful, was bound shut behind us. There was a fire burning in the center. Smoke trailed through the roof’s open shaft, and vented the charred fluff into the air stirring with thunder and the promise of rain.
What I noticed first about this hovel, other than all the attention directed at myself and Father Alvarelo, was the intense heat. I had already started to sweat before I took my seat around a small, smoking gourd. I smelled something heady and floral coming from inside, and yet and edge of sappiness. What were they concocting? In front of us were ceramic cups, all with pointed sticks in them. Mama Gondu took a seat in front of me. He had a mask worn around his neck, the face just barely hanging across his narrow chest. The nodded, and each one of us took turns in dipping the tick in the gourd. I instantly recognized the coca, and stiffened. I had heard it was an aphrodisiac from Pepita, or regularly chewed it. The children also enjoyed doing impressions of Mamas in trance, working their jaw to chew at imaginary coca, while walking stiffly like the living dead.
Father Alvarelo was already chewing, and he looked to me. Another permissive nod, though I was still unsure. I tucked the stick in my mouth, worked the sticky end to my cheek, and pulled off the coca leaves. I began to chew, though the taste was wretched. Father Alvarelo leaned back, crossed his legs together, and let his hands drape over his knees.
“Nieve,” Mama Gondu began. “When did Carmen become sick?”
“A couple months ago.”
“Severely or gradually?”
“Gradually, though in the last week severe.”
“Nieve, has Carmen ever been so sick?”
“No, Mama Gondu. This is new to me.”
I was becoming dizzy.
“How many years have you been in your tribe?”
“I was raised catholic, Mama Gondu. I was a candidate two years ago.”
More coca was taken by the men, and I weakly followed suit.
“Why did you come here?”
“I want to be an anchoress. I want to help people.”
“Why did Carmen come here?”
“We were both assigned. She saw this as her duty. I think she was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“The jungle.”
“What of the jungle?”
“Stranger,” I murmured, my eyes drifted shut and opened slowly. The room was spinning, the faces were all melting, and then the hut began to shrink away from me. I had trouble reacting beyond the natural sweat that had began to blossom across my brow. “The jungle,” I muttered, and suddenly, two hands were around my face, cradling my cheeks.
There was me and the Mask. Mama Gondu’s voice came from behind the grimacing mouth and the sharp colors striping under the slits. I flinched, and tried to pull away.
“Shhh,” came Mama Gondu’s soothing whisper. His thumbs rubbed the arch of my cheek just under my gaze. A relief went through me, and the darkness that surrounded us began to melt away. We were standing in a shallow, clear pool, the jungle reflected and watching us. We were engulfed in mist, every bit of it chilling in contrast with the warm air and the soothing temperature of the pool. “Tell me about the stranger.”
“Carmen sees a man,” I shivered, my mouth was filled with the taste of sap, caked into the corners of my lips, sinking into the thin flesh of my gums.
“Where is Carmen?”
“She is on a path.”
“Is she unafraid?”
“No, she is frightened.”
“Tell me about the man.”
“I do not know, this is not my dream.”
“How did you feel when Carmen told you about the man?”
“So scared. A pit opened in my stomach, and I felt that all of me had been sucked through. My heart felt like a block of ice. I was so frightened, Mama Gondu.”
“What does the man do?”
“He beckons her. His touch is hot. She says it burns her. Blisters swell and burst from her skin. He promises her he can cool her.”
“What does the man do?”
“I do not want to say,” I did not weep, but tears pooled, and then spilled over my cheeks.
“Tell me.”
“Carmen has not gone to him yet. She knows he will take her, and she knows she will never find the path again.” A terror seized me. “Someone is here.”
“Nieve.”
“No, no,” I saw a shadow on the bank. “No, no, no, someone is here!” I shrilled.
“Nieve, no one can harm us here.”
“He is on the shore, he wants me. He wants Carmen.”
“Concentrate, Nieve. Look into my face - ”
“No MORE!”
I wrenched myself free, and fell to my knees in the water. The pool splashed around me, and as the water landed to rejoin the glassy surface, the jungle faded. I was surrounded by blackness again, and then the dim light of the hut. I was on my back, shuddering and breathing deeply. Father Alvarelo pushed past Mama Gondu, and gathered me into his arms.
“Nieve! Nieve! Can you hear me?”
“Air. I need air.”
Father Alvarelo tore out of the hut with me. The rain was falling, and splashed my face. I managed to roll out of Father Alvarelo’s arms. I pushed from him, nearly fell into the soil that had started to soften into mud.
“You tricked me!” I screamed. I had taken so much over the last couple days, I could no longer keep my emotions inside. The coca was not aiding in any self-control. I was furious, I felt - “You used me. You used me, you horrible man.”
“Hermana Nieve!” Father Alvarelo seized me before I could run off into the jungle. “Calm yourself.”
“Keep your hands off of me. You and Mama Gondu, you have abused me. You have used my experience. You never told me what would happen - ”
“Nieve, I was not sure you would let him.”
“Had you been an honest man I would not have cared so much, I could have lasted longer. You lied to me, and such cruelty and thoughtlessness can cripple even the strongest.”
“I am sorry…”
“How can I forgive you?” I attacked him.
“Please, control yourself!” Father Alvarelo caught my wrists tightly.
“How could you?” I screamed, and spat at him.
He shoved me against the tree behind me, came close to me. From head to toe, Father Alvarelo shivered. He cradled my cheeks, and kissed my brow with a trembling mouth. I gasped, rain water pouring down my face, sinking through my clothes, and swimming in the very blood racing beneath my skin.
“I beg of you,” he whispered, “be still.”
He watched me in the falling rain, his eyes filled with tears, the drops from the sky already washed my spittle away. The rain was sobering and cool. I broke into tears, I sobbed and he held me tightly.
“You should have said something. I would have been stronger a little longer. You broke me with your lie.”
“I was afraid as well, Nieve. I should have been honest, and I should have trusted you. Please,” he held the back of my neck, and my head was bowed to his shoulder, “find a way to forgive me.”
We were silent in the storm until Mama Gondu found us. He approached, and drew his arms around us both. His mask hung around his neck once more, and rain wept through the grooves of its colorful features. His true face, however, was gray, dark, and exhausted.
“Stay with us tonight, my Young Brother, and my Young Sister. We will care for your horses, we will feed you in the morning, only you should rest now.”
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