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.”