Entry #8

Adan,

What a peculiar morning. Carmen insisted on another hour of sleep, her mood was grouchy and, dare I say, ill-tempered. I decided the best course of action was to leave her be. Dressing was a quiet endeavor, as closing the chest at the end of my bed elicited a heavy sigh from Carmen who flopped over onto her other side. We were gifted new linen habits and coifs. The light fabric would be enough to keep us cool on particularly hot days. I took my rosary with me, tucked the beaded piece into the belt woven around my waist.

I made my way to mess. There were only a few soldiers and Tairona there this morning. Perhaps I had risen too late to eat with everyone? No one was at the head table, and there was a certain awkwardness I felt just in considering a place there. Alone.

“Hermana Nieve.”

The crisp and serious voice could only belong to one person here as far as I was concerned. I had walked right by him. Father Leoncio was at one of the tables off to the side, chewing over bread and butter, drinking tea and smoking. His cassock was crisp as if new, and every stitch of his garments were in place. His graying hair was tied back, and his face was cleanly shaved.

“Good morning, Father.”

“Sit.”

“I am happier by the window.”

The chair across from him scooted out, and he dropped his foot back to the floor. He tilted his head. “Sit. Please.”

I did as I was told, and he caught the attention of a nearby Tairona. A young man approached us in a pale poncho and dark hat. His Spanish was broken, but had a certain eloquent accent that reminded me of the sing-song language I had heard in the Tairona village deeper in the jungle. The Tairona man left us, and Father Leoncio leaned his chin on his knuckles.

“Perhaps we started on the wrong foot.”

What was the right answer? I felt none would be, so I was silent.

His brows arched, he watched me steadily as my food arrived. Bread and butter, tea, and green pawpaws. The Tairona man excused himself, and Father Leoncio sighed before drawing on his coffee once more.

“This breakfast will be rather pointless with you biting your tongue the whole time. Eat. Talk.”

“I was only curious because I heard shouting.”

“Do you always go looking for trouble, Hermana?”

“No, Father,” I shook my head. “I wanted to help, should anything be wrong - ”

“Captain Gonzalo’s complaints are various and consistently voiced. They rarely change because he is a man hard-pressed to do such.”

“Such what?” I sipped my tea.

“Change. He is a man impatient with his own indecision, too frustrated to act outside his own limitation. There will be a day when he finally erupts, more angry at himself than us, and leave us. I would feel bad for his dilemma if it were not for the fact he lives on the beach with a beautiful wife, training new recruits eager to do his bidding, while his men are fed and sustained with us, just a ride a way.”

I chuckled, and I thought I saw a twitch in the corner of his cheek. His gaze was still firm, but lacked the coldness I had seen earlier.

“How are you enjoying your stay so far, Hermana? I know you have only been here a couple days.”

“I quite enjoy this place,” I said after finishing a bite of fresh bread, smeared lightly with butter. “I have never felt so close to God. This feels right to me, Father, this feels like home.”

“Myself and Father Alvarelo strive to make this place comfortable. Not just for our congregants and workers, but for us all.”

We ate silently together, and sipped our tea (and coffee) between our bites.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever heard- oh, nothing. Please, do not mind me.”

“Have I ever heard what, Hermana?”

“I… thought I heard someone in the library yesterday.”

“Was someone there?” I was amusing him, this was the wrong man to discuss this with.

“I think maybe a soldier. Perhaps even just my imagination.” Should I have told him about the books?

“Why do you say that?”

“I should really go get Carmen up.”

The Father watched me. He knew I was avoiding his question, and honestly I was making no attempt to disguise my evasiveness. Instead of pressing the matter, he watched me go, and I could only assume returned to his breakfast after that.

Returning to my room, I was almost nervous about confronting Carmen again. She had been so grouchy! However, when I entered, she was dressed, refreshed, and breathing in the morning air from the open window. This did little to settle my nerves, though I was hopeful.

“Nieve, is that you? Oh, Nieve. How exciting this is! We meet our class today. I can hardly wait. Aren’t you excited?”

“Of course, I am,” I chimed in, dismissing my misgivings.

Carmen scratched at her back, wincing. “I think the only thing I’m not used to yet here are the mosquitos. No matter! Have you eaten?”

“Yes. I had a meal with Father Leoncio, as a matter of fact.”

“The Father Leoncio who could freeze soup cold and deflate the fattest loaf of bread?”

I laughed. “The very same. My, what a mood I have found you in,” I remarked.

“What makes you say that, dear Hermana?”

“You were so grumpy this morning. You sounded hoarse too, I thought you might have fallen sick again.”

“I feel fantastic, Nieve. Is there enough time for me to grab something quickly from the mess?”

“Yes, our class does not come for another hour yet.”

“Wonderful! I will meet you in our littlest church,” she embraced me, kissing my cheek, and was out the door fast enough for me to wonder if all I had just witnessed had occurred. I felt as though I had stepped into a whirlwind! Even on her best days Carmen could not muster as much energy. In fact, she was as close to a real mother as any within the cloister. Always making sure we were disciplined, poised, and ordered.

I gathered my notes from the little desk by my bed, and made my way to the tiny hovel with the iron cross on the door. I met Father Alvarelo on the way, who agreed to help me tidy up the make shift church. We discussed the Tairona. He is fascinated with their culture, and thought it was important for me to know a little more before my first class arrived. He told me about Sen, the darkness that existed before there was light. As he spoke, he gesticulated and his eyes roved as if searching out the next sentence to this long, and beautiful plot. Just listening to him, I am fascinated. Not just with the people the Father describes, but with the Father himself. He is truly something remarkable.

We were arranging the floors beneath the altar when Carmen came through the door with a basket full of bread. “Look who I found!”

Small Tairona children flooded in from behind her, squealing and giggling, excited about exploring the new space. Father Alvarelo did his best to keep them from the organ, but some managed to squeeze through his defenses and began striking the keys. I think Carmen and I spent the first few minutes of our class calming the children, and only when he was sure that we had every one under control did Father Alvarelo leave.

“Now!” I began as the children began to pass the bread and tear off pieces for each other. “Let us begin with names.” The children seemed a little confused by my Spanish. Perhaps they understood a couple words here and there, but they were not as cognizant of it as the families that lived closer to the mission. These were clearly children from the village. “Nieve. Hermana Nieve.“

“Her.Mana. Nieve!“ The children called, giggling.

And Carmen was next. “Her.Mana. Carrrrrrmen.“

“Hermana Carrrrrmen!” The childred echoed, breaking into laughter as they playfully rolled Carmen’s “r” over and over.

Carmen and I taught with big, indicative gestures, and the first half of our class was devoted to teaching them Spanish. This in turn, helped us learn their language as well, as they often would tell us their meanings in step with ours. The other half was devoted to teaching them the ways of our Mass; the Eucharist, Acts of Penitence and Communion. Our lessons would end with song. Carmen played the organ, teaching them “Alleluia” while they taught us songs from their own village.