Chapter 7: Revised

Not much to report on this one. I wanted to add more detail work and description to this chapter, and also lengthen the conversation between Carmen, Nieve, and Alvarelo. I will admit, it's been really fun working on rain forest descriptions. I used to be obsessed with them when I was a kid. I was fascinated by the science, weather, and zoology surrounding them. But yeah, it's a pretty straightforward chapter, not much has changed on this one.

7

We set out shortly after this eye opening conversation, Adan.

I was not sure what to make of Olvida’s confession. I would have to get used to such conversations if I became an anchoress. At one moment, I could be writing, praying, or reading, and someone could knock on my window, and tell me his dilemma. Just like that! Just like Olvida had… only I would not be in the shadow of a mountain, hidden within the jungle’s sprawling, columnar trees, with only the wind accompanying our whispers. I decided to take my experience with Olvida close to heart, to value the lesson of it, and count my blessings that I could connect to someone like her out here in the new world. Such an interaction I would never forget, such an interaction could never be left behind.

But over my shoulder was Olvida, a linen ghost with plaited hair. She was waving at our backs, no sense of sadness or regret detectable at this time. Her smile almost had me fooled, for a moment I believed that our conversation had been another vision. She looked so dignified and unbothered, like a woman who led a life of uncultivated secrets and shames. But I knew better, and a pang of remorse made me turn away from her as we entered the jungle again.

I do not think I can bear discussing Olvida’s unhappy station further. I feel as though I have broken an oath with the hostess just by writing at length about her confession. Let me tell you more about the forest!

I would say that Padre Alvarelo has lived here all his life as a child cradled in the roots, maybe even fashioned from the very earth we now traveled. He was part of this great forest, and as he described all of the exotic flowers and pointed to the colorful birds in the canopy, why, it was as if he were lit from within. His eyes shined, his smile was a beam that rivaled the occasional swipes of sunlight diving through the leaves. Such excitement was intoxicating, Carmen and I found ourselves hypnotized by this wondrous garden.

We were traveling up a stone path. The weather was cooling as we moved further. I soon realized we were ascending deeper into the mountainous forest. The earth was slanted, and the trees were nearing the clouds threading Santa Marta‘s towering peak. I believed we were leaving the world at that moment, and in my mind, Adan, we were coming that much closer to God. My delight that we would soon be arriving at the padre’s mission was consuming, it took all my self-control to keep from bursting.

“Padre Alvarelo,” Carmen spoke up, and I was momentarily distracted from this mental stream. "Did our Spanish brothers build these roads upon their arrival? I would imagine such walkways invaluable in such a dizzying wood as this.”

“The Spanish? Oh, dear hermana, no! The Tairona fashioned these before we came here. The roads lead to the port, and to other villages. So, traders come down from the mountains with blankets and jewelry and such, and come back with fish and other catch from those at port. They are all connected,” he waved his hand about, gestured to the roads we had yet to see. “Think of Santa Marta like one big heart, the roads are the veins, and since they connect the Tairona to each other, Santa Marta thrives. A happy people is a happy land,” he concluded cheerfully.

Carmen frowned. “So surprising. Most of the news we have heard back home painted the Tairona as… well…”

“Savages?” Padre Alvarelo anticipated her observation and laughed. “Blood thirsty and cruel? I will admit, when we first came here, the Tairona were hesitant, and, yes, did respond to your Spanish brethren defensively. Padre Leoncio and I knew that things like reason, order, and peace were in order, not the brute force that the captain was so eager to discuss last night.” He cleared his throat. “Pardon, I have forgotten myself,” he smiled bashfully.

“Padre Leoncio?” I inquired, eager to continue any line of conversation that would distract the padre from discussing Captain Alejandro’s opinions.

“Yes. It was he that accepted you two here. And it was he who spearheaded the promotion of peace in dealing with the Tairona.”

“Will we meet him?” Carmen asked, and vaguely passed her hand over her stomach as she adjusted her position in her saddle. I could not help but notice this slight discomfort. Usually, few things bothered Carmen. We had know quite a lot of travel over the last few months though. Perhaps she had grown weary and was ready to finally see her new home.

“That you will, hermana.” Padre Alvarelo chuckled under his breath, “Believe me, you cannot miss the man.”

We took a road that branched from this main “vein“, as Alvarelo called them, and followed it through low hanging branches and thick leaves different colors by the occasional odd insect. Once we had cleared this thicket, we were beholden to another man-made clearing. This one was larger than Captain Alejandro’s estate, and further populated as well! The stone road had tapered into a groomed dirt path that wound like a big brown snake up the middle of gathered huts. Their foundations were stone, but the rooftops were intricately woven reeds that spun into tall peaks. I was reminded of a beehive, they were nothing like the thatched rooftops I was so accustomed to back in Seville.

The men, women, and children were as intriguing here as they were at the port. They wore a mixture of our fashion and theirs; leather cuirasses mingled with colorful ponchos. Gold studs and loops pierced their ears, nostrils, and lips, and glittered against their tanned skin. Minor differences between in their appearance distinguished them from their beach-side counterparts; their clothing was longer and thicker, their feet were covered, they were clothed to weather the moods of the woods, and chill of the mountain’s purple shadow. The soil was cooler here than the warm sands of the beach. They watched us with curiosity equal to our own.

“Is this the Tairona village we have heard so much about?” Carmen asked.

“This?” Padre Alvarelo echoed. “This is actually a sister village, many of the families here are volunteers and workers for our mission. They were instrumental in the construction of it, actually,” Padre Alvarelo was approached by an older Tairona man, and they began speaking. I could not understand a word they were saying, but they were soon laughing, and Padre Alvarelo fished out a string of beads that the old man happily accepted. They said a few more quiet words, the old man looked grateful, and Padre Alvarelo clasped hands with him before leading us onward. He looked refreshed, the conversation must have, in its own way, rejuvenated him. “You will never find a more devoted, and kind congregation as this.”

We continued through this tiny cluster of huts and climbed the dusty path to the top of a hill, where the mission was waiting for us.

I would see more examples of the Tairona’s masonry here. The perimeter was made of stone, cut roughly, but sturdy. A wide open wooden door revealed an expansive courtyard. The heart of the property was a church made of stone and wood, with steeples that matched the roofs of the huts below the hill. There were also buttresses supporting the walls. The overall structure reminded me of a fat tree with visible, strong roots. I wondered if this was the focus of its construction all along. Crowning the exterior of the transepts’ cross was a fat bell. For now, it was still in a roost decorated with grooming birds.

There were wood buildings off to the west and east of the courtyard. Mingling and smoking in front of one of these buildings were soldiers, most of them half out of their uniform and casual. Their jackets were unbuttoned, their swords were relaxed against the wall behind them, and they had taken notice of our arrival. I searched for our traveling companion, Elias, but could not find him.

Aside from the church, I could see two other buildings. To the east, past the stables just off to our right, was a modest building, capped by a yellow roof and boasting a lovely garden at the front. Back on my left, not far from the soldiers, was a small chapel that appeared to be the newest of all the buildings. It, too, had that familiar thatched roof twisting into a cone shape.

Suddenly, two Tairona boys rushed out of the stable. They ran across the courtyard for us. Padre Alvarelo hopped down to greet them, and slipped them each a piece of candy. The boys spoke excitedly and tugged on Padre Alvarelo’s pockets before they were chided by a bigger man that had emerged from the stable. Like most of the Tairona, I had trouble understanding him. Their language was so different from ours, almost like a song. Only, this particular version sounded angry and agitated, enough so that the boys leaped into action. They were insistent that we dismount, and they kept waving their arms at themselves, all the while crying: “Down! Down!”

We descended from our saddles clumsily due to the fervent behest of the hasty children. Carmen managed to step down just fine from her saddle, but I found myself not so graceful. My heel caught the stirrup awkwardly and I pitched forward. Padre Alvarelo was instantly there. An arm went around my back, but I also felt his fingers clasp my shoulder to steady me. I must admit, I was stunned. By all accounts, I should have been sprawled out on the courtyard floor!

“Easy,” he braced us both, and grinned at me. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, padre, I believe so,” I could not help but blush. How silly of me!

Content with this answer, and sure that I had regained my balance, the padre withdrew. One of the stable boys was giggling and pointing at the padre, while the other grumbled at being faced with the lonely task of tugging the horses to the stable by himself. As the horses stubbornly refused, the boy rounded on his co-worker and threw his hands up. He started kicking mud at him as he yelled, and the giggling boy took off to begrudgingly help him.

A man stepped out of the little yellow building and into the garden. He had an old apron looped over his neck and tied around his waist. He was small, and squinted past the sun until the brim of his wide hat was adjusted to cut through the brightness. This must have revealed us, for he started upon discovering us, and waved excitedly. He set down a pair of shears inside the basket notched in his arm, and trotted out of the garden toward us. We met the stranger beyond the gate of the garden, and I was meant with the warm scent of flowers and herbs basking in the sun. These plants stood guard along a dirt path, and there were vegetables planted further from this first tier.

I found myself at ease in the small man’s presence. What hair unkempt by his hat hung in dark strokes across his brow and along his neck. His skin was toughened by the sun and by about, I would guess, forty years’ worth of living, but his face was jovial, courteous and boasted a smile the daylight on our shoulders could not rival.

“Basilio,” Padre Alejandro held his arms open.

“Victor.” He clasped our padre in a bear-hug and laughed out loud as he patted the priest’s back. “Good to see you again.”

“I owe you a drink; that is why you are so happy to see me!”

The man pulled away in mock disgrace. “You have me mistaken for some other devil. Ah!” His twinkling green eyes settled on us. “Are these the hermanas we have heard so much about?”

“Yes, in fact.” Padre Alvarelo presented us. “This is Doctor Gil. And doctor, I would like you to meet Hermana Nieve and Hermana Carmen.”

“What a pleasure.” The doctor took our hands quickly and shook them. “I am so pleased to finally meet you. The children will be happy, as well.”

“We are just as anxious to meet them,” I said.

There was some rustling behind him, and for a moment, I was distracted. A young woman passed through the door. Her dark hair fell in curls around her shoulders. She set down a large basket full of linens. An old green scarf was tugged from her pocket, and she pulled her hair up into a knot, and secured the bun with a quick knot from the scarf. It was only then that I noticed she had fastened us with a narrowed and measured gaze. The doctor did not seem to notice, but I certainly felt the sting of her look and flinched as she approached with the basket of cloth against her hip.

“These the new teachers?” There was something terribly unfriendly about this question, her delivery would have been aloof were it not for her chilly voice.

“Yes,” Carmen extended her hand. “So nice to meet you.”

She snorted instead. “Likewise.”

The doctor seemed more amused than embarrassed as he watched the woman trudged off; he nudged his chin up as she crossed the courtyard for the church with her laundry. “Don’t mind Pepita. She takes some getting used to, but she’s one of my best nurses.”

“Well,” Padre Alvarelo slapped Doctor Gil’s back, “we must be getting on. We will be seeing you for dinner tonight?”

“Of course! Take care. Hermana Nieve, Hermana Carmen—very lovely to meet you.”

“And you, Doctor.” I was mildly put off by the rude arrival and exit of Pepita. I knew immediately my farewell was distracted, but the doctor did not seem to mind. He offered us one more conciliatory wave, and returned to his garden.

Padre Alvarelo touched my shoulder, and motioned to Carmen. I had not even noticed she had separated herself from us.

“Carmen is hypnotized,” the padre indicated my traveling companion, and I burst into laughter. My only guess is that she watched Pepita go, but then her gaze lingered on the church. She was fascinated by it! Her father and her two brothers were builders back in Spain, so it is more than likely such professions imprinted her with a certain curiosity when it came to all things built by human hands.

“Hermana Carmen! You should see your expression,” I giggled uncontrollably, but my teasing did not affect her. She was entranced by the church before her, lips parted long enough for a bird to make a home.

“You built this?” Carmen asked, dazed.

“Not just me,” Padre Alvarelo replied modestly. “Leoncio was an excellent task master before I even arrived, and the Tairona were remarkable. Simply remarkable. It‘s almost finished. As for the rest of the mission, you‘ll find it mostly wood. Our eternal homes are not here, after all, they are with God. However, we wanted the church to be permanent; a strong hold should anyone ever need salvation, sanctuary, or simply shelter.”

“How long did it take to build this, though?” Carmen asked, dazed as she gestured to the church.

“Let me think a moment,” he motioned for us to follow. “I was only twenty-two… I would say we took about…including the years before my arrival… eleven years? Not long when you really think about it. Padre Leoncio was already laying stones when I arrived.” Padre Alvarelo made his way up the steps of the church, he was beaming boyishly. He reminded me of you when you would win at chess!

Carmen shook her head. “You had this up in eleven years?”

“Storms have been acting up lately, so we are trying to reinforce the walls. Took out one of our transepts just a few months ago,” Padre Alvarelo tittered, and shook his head with casual regret. “But, please, come inside! Let me give you the tour.”