My Dear Adan,
The next morning, Carmen was feeling much better. She told me that her spell faded, that she kept her soup and bread settled, and before she could thank Brother Ivan, she was asleep. When she awoke, he was gone, but she seemed surprised she had kicked off her blankets as she usually slept peacefully. We encountered Brother Ivan in the church, but he was arranging a flowers beneath the altar. I must admit, Carmen and I were rather surprised.
“Brother Ivan,” I inquired. “No mass today?”
“We rarely hold our mass on weekdays. Our congregation have trades that take them down to the coast almost every day, so we only hold our required masses."
“I see,” Carmen frowned.
“How are you feeling, Hermana Carmen?”
“Much better,” she shifted, uncomfortable.
Brother Ivan nodded. “Very good. There is breakfast in mess. Father Alvarelo would like to show you your classroom when you are finished.”
“What of Father Leoncio?” I chuckled, but Brother Ivan did not seem to enjoy my joke. He was automatically tense, and busied himself with his arrangement.
“I really must finish this.”
Carmen and I exchanged a glance, and took our leave. What a strange reaction. We met with Father Alvarelo after breakfast, and he took us to a small hovel across the courtyard from the stables. The door was painted white, an old, iron cross hung in the center. He led us inside where we found rows of little pews facing a small altar, decorated with flowers much like the colorful orchids we saw in the main church. Our pulpit also boasted a table of books, a small organ, and small stove crowned by a big kettle.
“Father Alvarelo,” I gasped, “how charming!”
Carmen rushed up the aisle to the organ, her fingers brushed the keys, occasionally pressing a few chords, playing a few scales. “Nieve, this is just perfect, simply perfect.”
The rest of the day was spent exploring the mission. We stumbled upon a library. A soldier was leaving just as we were entering, he eyed us both, and was on his way. Carmen and I began to plan our first lesson. We took a break in the afternoon for some tea which Carmen was more than happy to fetch. I remained in the library, and stretched my legs with a few laps around the shelves. The leather spines felt cool and smooth beneath the fingers I drew lazily down the row. Outside I heard a squeal, and went to the window. Father Alvarelo was in the courtyard, trying to keep a big leather ball from the stable boys. They were pawing at him, trying to jump on his back, but he roared playfully and caught one around the waist.
There was a thump behind me.
“Carmen, is that you? Come and see - ” I turned to wave her over, but no one was there. Just me and the library. “Carmen, what do you think you are doing?” I giggled. Seeing Father Alvarelo had put me in a playful mood. I would find Carmen and tickle her senseless! I heard another thump, and pinpointed the very spot. Sneaking around one of the shelves, I lunged from around the corner and found nothing. Only two books that had fallen from their vigils on the shelf.
They slid back into their place with no problem. I heard another thump, and rolled my eyes. “I see how we play the game now, Carmen. I see how we play!” I tracked the sound, and came around the corner. Just another book - my, Adan, I never knew Carmen to possess such swiftness. Silence in the library again, and then:
Thump!
Thump! Thump!
Thump! Thump! Thump!
THUMP!
Imagine my surprise when just as I was hunting down the source of the sound, there was a knock at the door. “All right, Carmen, no more making a mess. Someone is here!” I laughed and opened the door, half expecting to see Father Leoncio there to chide us. I was startled to find Carmen’s arms full with a wooden tray, a pot, a sugar bowl and vial of milk, some biscuits, and two empty cups.
“Thank you, Hermana! I was not sure I could have opened that without making a mess.”
Carmen swept inside, and made tracks for our table, covered in books. “Who were you talking to?”
“Excuse me?” I asked in a stupor.
“I said, who were you talking to? You sounded like you were having very much fun.”
“Oh, I thought I was,” I shook my head, I closed the door. “Nothing, never mind. Where had we left off?”
“Nieve! Look at this mess.”
Carmen had investigated a trail of books that lead her to a whole, emptied row. I followed her to the spot, and was speechless upon seeing all the books across the floor.
“Did you do this?”
Did I?
“No, Carmen. There was a snap, and they fell. I meant to tell you at the, uh, at the door,” I was stumbling over my words. What had happened? Had a soldier played a prank on us?
“Well, help me get these together, and when we are through here, we will alert one of the staff. I am sure they will be able to fix it. Come along, do not stand there collecting dust, now.”
For the rest of the day, I was distracted. I barely touched my meal. Everyone spoke around me, but I could not pick out any particular story from the mess of words. I did not care about the soldiers’ load jokes, or Father Leoncio’s quizzical gaze. I was happy to see Carmen in better spirits, but I did not pursue any further information as to her health. I was in my own world. Perhaps I was working myself up into an unnecessary mystery. The soldiers were as mischievous here as the stable boys were outside. Maybe they were having a little bit of fun.
Still, this explanation did little to calm me. My meal went uneaten and I excused myself early from dinner. Father Alvarelo watched me go, and I only know this because I looked back to see if he had.
My pace changed, I was propelled down the hall way. The candles in their bulbous lamps sputtered, and one winked out just as I abandoned the corridor for my room. I read a book of lyrics to settle my nerves, but even such rosy poetics failed to derail my thoughts. In fact, just holding a book made it impossible to get my mind off of what had happened in the library. I wish I knew who had done it.
In the midst of this sudden, mental storm, I was stirred by something. Sounds. I heard a sigh beside me, and my skin seemed a size too small around my body. I looked over, and saw it was only Carmen. She was swooning in her sleep. Her slumber seemed anything but restful.
The stone floor was cold along the bottoms of my feet. I drew on a poncho, one of several clothes left for us to keep us warm on the cool nights, and cool on the warm days. I pulled the hood over my head, and moved into the hall. There was laughter from down the hall, and footsteps. The laughter sounded like a woman’s, but who else lived in the mission that was a woman other than Carmen and myself?
I followed the sound all the way to the mess. My pace was slow and hesitant. I was afraid, and I was jumpy when I heard a crash from the mess hall, followed by another round of laughter. I tip-toed to the door. My heart was slamming in my chest, ready to leap into my already dry throat. I bit my lip to keep from breathing too loudly, to keep from whimpering. I kept telling myself it had to be someone in the mission, someone I had already seen, someone I had already met. I opened the door to the mess slowly, and only a crack to peek inside.
I recognized Pepita. That long dark hair, and brown skin. A candle was beside her, flickering golden light across a round, exposed thigh. A man was with her. His grin reminded me of a fox, like the one that father obsessed over for a year, Adan. The one that carried our fat hens off by the neck. He was touching her, pulling her skirts up to her hips, tracing her thighs with his mouth. He grabbed her shirt, and wound the loose neckline up in his hand. He wrenched, and I gasped. They both looked up, and I was already gone. I ran around the corner just as the door flew open.
“You decided not to stay?” The man snarled into empty hall. I pressed my hand across my mouth, afraid to move. “No longer wish to watch?” He interviewed the blackness again with a heavy snarl.
“Let them change their mind if they wish,” Pepita called to him.
“Shut your mouth,” he slammed the door, and I waited for footsteps. When I heard none, I finally exhaled, and decided it was time to attempt sleep once more. I crept back to my room, only to find that blankets had been thrown off Carmen’s bed and mine. I tucked her back in, just as she whimpered:
“Leave her alone,” but her whimper sounded so strange, not like her voice at all. Perhaps because she was so deep into her dreams. Unable to handle any other possibilities the day (or in this case, the night) had to offer, I pulled the covers around me, curled into a ball and fell into a fitful sleep.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Entry #6
Dear Adan,
I am about to lay down for some rest. The night has been a long one. Dream like, not completely real. Father Alvarelo and I moved silently into the primary courtyard where I saw the boys from earlier. They were sleeping in the hay, and their boss was sitting by a lamp, practicing penmanship and smoke. We took our horses, hardly disturbing them. Father Alvarelo taught me how to saddle my creature in hushed tones, leaning close so he would not have to raise his voice and disturb the peaceful stable. He helped me up, and I gathered the reigns. He was soon settled on his horse, and we were traveling back down the hill.
The huts were very inactive, save for a few Tairona men who were gathered around fires stationed here and there between some of the abodes. They were speaking quietly, and drinking from big brown bottles. I am not sure what they were imbibing, but they seemed easy going and still, save for when their shoulders would shake with the occasional titter.
We returned to the stone path, the one from my dream, the one from earlier that day. In the dark the stones were invisible save for pale outlines. A half-moon up above broke through in stray white beams. The underbrush was alive all around us. There was much more commotion now than there was earlier today. Occasionally, a pair of glowing, slit eyes would dark between the leaves, followed by footfalls that would shrink into a fainter and fainter sound. There were no birds, and barely any light. The forest had transformed, and I rode closer to Father Alvarelo.
“Do not be afraid,” he said, sensing my trepidation. “The creatures of these woods have other game to hunt. In the years we have been here, we have only suffered one or two attacks. The Tairona have taught us how to live harmoniously with the most vicious of jaguars and voracious of serpents. If it were not for them, we would not have survived.”
“Will I be welcomed in the village, Father?”
“Nieve, you will be adopted. I have worked with these good people for a long time now, long enough to know their inclinations.”
This settled me, and I relaxed. My fingers were not as tense around the reigns, and as a result I like to think my horse was set at ease as well. He was not chomping at the bit so incessantly, and he clopped along beside Father Alvarelo’s steed with a bob to his head, his nostrils occasionally snorting.
“How long have the Tairona been here?”
“Very long. They believe this is the heart of the world, Nieve.” Our path was rising, and I noticed that mist had started to seep through the leaves in the canopy above our heads. “At the core of everything in this world, Nieve, is the Se, the spiritual realm.” The mist drew lower, plunging us into a thin fog. Again, I was inclined to ride closer to my guide. “There is life in everything, and the earth should be cared for as carefully as one would care for themselves.”
“The belief is a beautiful one.”
“Sounds familiar, do you think? They seem so exotic, so different from what we were taught. But, Nieve, I have noticed that our religions are all so similar. Remember that when you are teaching. Not that our beliefs are different, but that they are strangely uniform. Ah, here we are.”
Our uphill climb had brought us to a bridge that stretched across a sharp drop. Below I could hear the sounds of a river babbling and gossiping with rocks. This river cut through scattered, the leaves all whispering and twisting together in the occasional breeze. This was all I could make out, and no other specifics. The fog was so thick now, I had to squint to make out the hand Father Alvarelo had extended to me.
“Here. We need to go the rest of the way on foot. There is another path that would be safer for our horses, but this is the quickest way into the village, and - well - it has gotten rather late has it not?”
“I do not mind,” I confessed, and took his hand. He helped me out of the saddle, and made his way to the bridge. He had taken a few steps and noticed I was not following. I was making a meal of my lip, eying the structure warily. “This is quite safe?”
“Quite,” he held his hand out to me again, and I took it willingly. His grip was reassuring, and he led me across the bridge.
“Father?”
“Yes, Nieve.”
“Is the fog always this thick?”
The Father stopped, and turned around fully to face me. “Why, Nieve. We are in the clouds. This is the closest to heaven you will ever be, aside from your prayers.”
I smiled, I could not contain my laughter. This was beyond me. I had heard of high mountains and the adventurers who dared to climb them. I never thought I would be among them, able to reach out to the heaven’s filaments. We could not have been too high. One of the sailors said I went too high in the sierras I would be dizzy and faint. Granted, I felt a little funny, but perhaps that was the notion of how close to God I suddenly felt.
“Father, this is amazing.”
He reached to me, took my shoulder, and kissed my brow. “Dry your eyes,” he said, and continued across the bridge. “We are almost there!”
I was follow enthusiastically. We cleared the bridge in no time, walked a short, and winding path, and reached a village illuminated by bonfires. There huts were made of the same woven rooftops, reeds entwined in a rising twist. A group of men were seated around a smaller fire, their hands flowing and waving to one another conversationally. Their faces were studded with gold, there was feather working in their clothes, and they were pushing something into their mouth. They would work it into their cheek and start to chew. Their conversation ended at the sight of Father Alvarelo. They stood to meet us, and affectionately greeted the Father, all of them speaking snatches of Spanish and more of the sing-song language I had heard upon arriving at the mission.
Father Alvarelo laughed, and nodded before clapping me on the shoulder. “Hermana Nieve. This is Mama Gondu. He is one of the mamas here in the village.”
“Mamas?”
“They are high priests, probably the most important people here. They are the ones who let us build the mission.”
I bowed my head respectfully. “Please, tell him I am pleased to meet him.” I heard Mama Gondu chuckle after my translation, and he said something to Father Alvarelo, who laughed out right.
“He says he would like to hear about your journey, provided you can keep your chin up.”
I blushed deeply, but followed Mama Gondu as he waved me over to the fire. I took a seat beside Father Alvarelo, who served as my translator. I began to tell my story as they chewed and occasionally turned away to spit. The group soon grew, and my story had turned into a circle of tall tales and lore. Mama Gondu told the story of Kalashe and Nimaku, the lords of the trees, and the sentinels of the waters. How they came to be, and how they quarreled. Another man told a story about the sun, Mamatungwi, and the disastrous day it spent on Earth. Father Alvarello translated where he could, but sometimes a joke would catch him off guard and he would break into laughter instead. The sentiment was infectious, and soon the entire camp fire, and I am pretty sure those who were awake and had joined us in the village, were all fitful with stories and jokes.
When I thought I would tip over from exhaustion, Father Alvarelo excused us from the circle. Mama Gondu insisted he see us to the bridge. He was much shorter than Father Alvarelo, but about my height. His skin was dark, and the lines across his face reminded me of old stone, or the lines I could see in leaves when I held them to the sun. His hair fell in dark vines, and the cuffs of his trousers trailed like roots pulled from the Earth itself. He was truly a man of the soil here, with a gaze light and cloudy as the mist coiled around the bridge. He said something to Father Alvarelo, but he was smiling at me.
“He said you are welcomed. That you are invited, and would appreciate to see such a friendly face more often. He is holding a ceremony for a newly pregnant wife and her husband here soon, and would like you to attend, along with myself, and anyone else from the mission.” Father Alvarelo shook hands with the Mama, and they bowed to each other.
“Nothing would give me more pleasure,” and this translated to Mama Gondu made him clap his hands once and smile. He bid what I could only assume was a good night, and we were on our way back to the mission. So, having reached the very last reserve of my energy, I will finish this entry with the fondest good night of all, and the sweetest dreams to you my dear brother.
I am about to lay down for some rest. The night has been a long one. Dream like, not completely real. Father Alvarelo and I moved silently into the primary courtyard where I saw the boys from earlier. They were sleeping in the hay, and their boss was sitting by a lamp, practicing penmanship and smoke. We took our horses, hardly disturbing them. Father Alvarelo taught me how to saddle my creature in hushed tones, leaning close so he would not have to raise his voice and disturb the peaceful stable. He helped me up, and I gathered the reigns. He was soon settled on his horse, and we were traveling back down the hill.
The huts were very inactive, save for a few Tairona men who were gathered around fires stationed here and there between some of the abodes. They were speaking quietly, and drinking from big brown bottles. I am not sure what they were imbibing, but they seemed easy going and still, save for when their shoulders would shake with the occasional titter.
We returned to the stone path, the one from my dream, the one from earlier that day. In the dark the stones were invisible save for pale outlines. A half-moon up above broke through in stray white beams. The underbrush was alive all around us. There was much more commotion now than there was earlier today. Occasionally, a pair of glowing, slit eyes would dark between the leaves, followed by footfalls that would shrink into a fainter and fainter sound. There were no birds, and barely any light. The forest had transformed, and I rode closer to Father Alvarelo.
“Do not be afraid,” he said, sensing my trepidation. “The creatures of these woods have other game to hunt. In the years we have been here, we have only suffered one or two attacks. The Tairona have taught us how to live harmoniously with the most vicious of jaguars and voracious of serpents. If it were not for them, we would not have survived.”
“Will I be welcomed in the village, Father?”
“Nieve, you will be adopted. I have worked with these good people for a long time now, long enough to know their inclinations.”
This settled me, and I relaxed. My fingers were not as tense around the reigns, and as a result I like to think my horse was set at ease as well. He was not chomping at the bit so incessantly, and he clopped along beside Father Alvarelo’s steed with a bob to his head, his nostrils occasionally snorting.
“How long have the Tairona been here?”
“Very long. They believe this is the heart of the world, Nieve.” Our path was rising, and I noticed that mist had started to seep through the leaves in the canopy above our heads. “At the core of everything in this world, Nieve, is the Se, the spiritual realm.” The mist drew lower, plunging us into a thin fog. Again, I was inclined to ride closer to my guide. “There is life in everything, and the earth should be cared for as carefully as one would care for themselves.”
“The belief is a beautiful one.”
“Sounds familiar, do you think? They seem so exotic, so different from what we were taught. But, Nieve, I have noticed that our religions are all so similar. Remember that when you are teaching. Not that our beliefs are different, but that they are strangely uniform. Ah, here we are.”
Our uphill climb had brought us to a bridge that stretched across a sharp drop. Below I could hear the sounds of a river babbling and gossiping with rocks. This river cut through scattered, the leaves all whispering and twisting together in the occasional breeze. This was all I could make out, and no other specifics. The fog was so thick now, I had to squint to make out the hand Father Alvarelo had extended to me.
“Here. We need to go the rest of the way on foot. There is another path that would be safer for our horses, but this is the quickest way into the village, and - well - it has gotten rather late has it not?”
“I do not mind,” I confessed, and took his hand. He helped me out of the saddle, and made his way to the bridge. He had taken a few steps and noticed I was not following. I was making a meal of my lip, eying the structure warily. “This is quite safe?”
“Quite,” he held his hand out to me again, and I took it willingly. His grip was reassuring, and he led me across the bridge.
“Father?”
“Yes, Nieve.”
“Is the fog always this thick?”
The Father stopped, and turned around fully to face me. “Why, Nieve. We are in the clouds. This is the closest to heaven you will ever be, aside from your prayers.”
I smiled, I could not contain my laughter. This was beyond me. I had heard of high mountains and the adventurers who dared to climb them. I never thought I would be among them, able to reach out to the heaven’s filaments. We could not have been too high. One of the sailors said I went too high in the sierras I would be dizzy and faint. Granted, I felt a little funny, but perhaps that was the notion of how close to God I suddenly felt.
“Father, this is amazing.”
He reached to me, took my shoulder, and kissed my brow. “Dry your eyes,” he said, and continued across the bridge. “We are almost there!”
I was follow enthusiastically. We cleared the bridge in no time, walked a short, and winding path, and reached a village illuminated by bonfires. There huts were made of the same woven rooftops, reeds entwined in a rising twist. A group of men were seated around a smaller fire, their hands flowing and waving to one another conversationally. Their faces were studded with gold, there was feather working in their clothes, and they were pushing something into their mouth. They would work it into their cheek and start to chew. Their conversation ended at the sight of Father Alvarelo. They stood to meet us, and affectionately greeted the Father, all of them speaking snatches of Spanish and more of the sing-song language I had heard upon arriving at the mission.
Father Alvarelo laughed, and nodded before clapping me on the shoulder. “Hermana Nieve. This is Mama Gondu. He is one of the mamas here in the village.”
“Mamas?”
“They are high priests, probably the most important people here. They are the ones who let us build the mission.”
I bowed my head respectfully. “Please, tell him I am pleased to meet him.” I heard Mama Gondu chuckle after my translation, and he said something to Father Alvarelo, who laughed out right.
“He says he would like to hear about your journey, provided you can keep your chin up.”
I blushed deeply, but followed Mama Gondu as he waved me over to the fire. I took a seat beside Father Alvarelo, who served as my translator. I began to tell my story as they chewed and occasionally turned away to spit. The group soon grew, and my story had turned into a circle of tall tales and lore. Mama Gondu told the story of Kalashe and Nimaku, the lords of the trees, and the sentinels of the waters. How they came to be, and how they quarreled. Another man told a story about the sun, Mamatungwi, and the disastrous day it spent on Earth. Father Alvarello translated where he could, but sometimes a joke would catch him off guard and he would break into laughter instead. The sentiment was infectious, and soon the entire camp fire, and I am pretty sure those who were awake and had joined us in the village, were all fitful with stories and jokes.
When I thought I would tip over from exhaustion, Father Alvarelo excused us from the circle. Mama Gondu insisted he see us to the bridge. He was much shorter than Father Alvarelo, but about my height. His skin was dark, and the lines across his face reminded me of old stone, or the lines I could see in leaves when I held them to the sun. His hair fell in dark vines, and the cuffs of his trousers trailed like roots pulled from the Earth itself. He was truly a man of the soil here, with a gaze light and cloudy as the mist coiled around the bridge. He said something to Father Alvarelo, but he was smiling at me.
“He said you are welcomed. That you are invited, and would appreciate to see such a friendly face more often. He is holding a ceremony for a newly pregnant wife and her husband here soon, and would like you to attend, along with myself, and anyone else from the mission.” Father Alvarelo shook hands with the Mama, and they bowed to each other.
“Nothing would give me more pleasure,” and this translated to Mama Gondu made him clap his hands once and smile. He bid what I could only assume was a good night, and we were on our way back to the mission. So, having reached the very last reserve of my energy, I will finish this entry with the fondest good night of all, and the sweetest dreams to you my dear brother.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Entry #5
Oh, Adan!
I barely had time to write my last entry, considering how fed up Carmen had become of me. Our fight was brief, and not so terrible. More like a mother angry at her child, though I wish Carmen would keep from speaking to me in such a manner. Yes, I am younger, but that does not make me a babe.
“You disappeared! Where did you go?”
“I heard voices. I wanted to see what they were.”
“Were you seen?”
I could not lie.
“Nieve, were you seen?” Carmen insisted.
“Yes,” I replied, and awaited the scourge that was about to render me guilty for the rest of the evening.
Carmen crossed her arms, she had already thrown down her sack next to one of the two small beds. I eyed my own, wanting nothing more than to escape under the covers. “So. Seen by who?”
“I am not sure. One of them was a Captain, a Captain Alejandro, and he was arguing with another priest here.”
“Perhaps I would not mind so much if you had gone unseen, but now? How rude they must consider us! We are supposed to be good examples for the children here, for the cloister at home.”
“We are, Carmen.”
“Oh, please, I don’t want to hear anymore,” she dropped onto the edge of her bed, and turned away from me. Haphazardly, I approached.
“Carmen,” I sat on the other side of the bed, my back also to her. I was afraid to look at her, I just felt so awful. “I am so sorry I offended you. I know you are homesick, and I must be making things harder. In any case, I do not think they will send us back to Spain for some cat-like curiosity.”
She must have heard the smile in my voice, and glancing over my shoulder I saw that her frown had been cracked. She did not want to smile, she wanted to be angry, but I could see that I had calmed her. Even if for a little bit.
“Perhaps I over-reacted.”
“I will make sure my trouble does not become your trouble… should I even fall in trouble,” I laughed, and she shook her head at me.
“A trouble maker. Despite all your oaths and promises to God - ”
“Oh, I meant every word!”
“To God, Carmen! You are still a trouble maker.”
“Perhaps I am,” I was up from her bed, our spat over and our spirits mended. I dropped onto my bed which stretched out from beneath a narrow window. “I like this place, Carmen. What do you think?”
We made idle chat, but eventually the long morning and noon caught up with us. We both drifted to sleep. My rest was dreamless, save for I was on the stone path leading through the jungle. The leaves were stirred by a faint breeze, and the stones rumbled beneath me. I awoke shivering and suddenly. I should not have been afraid. The steel rays of dawn had broken through the canopy, and there were crystal beads left on the leaves from a previous night’s rainfall. The scene was peaceful, but something startled me so.
I pressed up from my bed, washed my hands over my face and sighed the vision away just as the church bell struck. Adan, I thought I would leap out of my skin. Gathering my wits, I shook Carmen’s shoulder softly, raising her for the dinner Father Alvarelo had promised us earlier. When Carmen attempted to stand, she was off-balance. I was instantly there to steady her, and peered at her closely.
“Carmen, are you well?”
“Just hungry. May I lean on your arm on our way?”
“Of course, hermana, of course,” I cooed, and we linked arms together on our way through the hall. There were dim lamps bolted to the walls, all of them flickering to keep the night where it belonged; outside. Beyond the few windows we passed the sky was dark blue, and the forest’s canopy had become a rustling, shadowy blanket across the horizon.
We entered the mess. There were soldiers we recognized from earlier seated at one of the tables. There were Tairona sitting among them, and also populating the other table. They looked like some of the workers we had passed earlier that day. Sitting at a head table was Father Alvarelo, who excitedly waved us over, two deacons I did not recognized, a young boy in a simple robe and poncho, and the stolid looking priest I had seen earlier.
As Carmen and I made our way to the head table, I could not find Captain Alejandro, the angry man that had been so vehement with the older priest. There was a soldier among the group I did not recognize. He was eying Carmen and I up and down, and whispering with his comrades as we passed by.
Father Alvarelo was to his feet, and pulled out chairs for myself and Carmen. I helped Carmen to her seat. Her infirmity withdrew a frown from the young priest.
“I say, Hermana Carmen, are you well?”
Carmen smiled weakly. “I think I am in hungry spirits. I only had a little to eat on the ship before we docked today.”
“By all means then,” Father Alvarelo swiftly retrieved a bowl of bread. Carmen took a piece and attempted a few small bites. Father Alvarelo turned to me as Tairona servants brought out two deep dishes of soup, a bowl of fruit, and more bread. They also deposited wine and tea on the tables, and returned to the kitchen. “Have you two settled in well?”
“Yes, very much. We enjoyed a nice nap before dinner.”
Before I could say anything more, the older priest interjected. “Our new sister is quite inquisitive. Perhaps after dinner you could show her the Tairona village.”
My cheeks glowed red, my hands folded in my lap. Oh, God, forgive me. I really had been spotted. I began to think like Carmen; what an inconsiderate creature I had been. But you know me, Adan. I cannot help myself. My curiosity has always had the best of me.
“I would like to see the village,” I cleared my throat nervously. “I have heard so much about it.”
Father Alvarelo’s voice leveled into a serious tone. He nodded to the older priest. “This is Father Gabriel Leoncio. He founded this missionary.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Father Leoncio. I am - ”
“Hermana Nieve. Yes. Your abbess has appropriately identified you. Light brown eyes. Rather small. She neglected to mention you were a spy as well as a sister.”
“Father Leoncio, I heard shouting.”
He lifted his hand, sneering as he swirled some wine in a short goblet. “No, I think that is about enough.”
“Nieve…” Carmen’s voice was more than enough to draw my attentions away from this ghastly Father. How rude!
“Yes, Carmen.”
“Perhaps I should lie back down?”
“Oh, Carmen, you are quite pale.”
Father Alvarelo was to his feet, happy to escape the Father’s presence too, I think.
“Nieve, I will help you,” he said, drawing his arm around Carmen’s back. His other hand held hers in a gentle, yet supportive grip. He was so delicate with her. “Brother Ivan,” he called to the man in the simple robe. He sat up straight and suddenly, nearly choking on his soup. He had a very long face, contrasted by two very large hazel eyes and a tiny nose.
“Uh, yes, Father Alvarelo.”
“Send soup and bread to Hermana Carmen’s room, please? Make sure she eats.”
“Yes, Father,” he bobbed his head and went quickly into the kitchen.
“Come,” Father Alvarelo said to me, and we withdrew from the mess hall. I could still feel Father Leoncio’s gaze hard on the back of my neck until the doors shut behind us. “How long has she been feeling this way?” Father Alvarelo asked, his brows knit with concern.
“Oh, I am not sure. Since we woke for dinner. We had very little to eat today. I’m sure if she can rest and have some of her dinner she will be well.”
“You are both so kind,” Carmen swallowed, and leaned her head on my shoulder. “I am so sorry to interrupt dinner this way.”
“Do not be foolish,” I chastised her tenderly. “You did no such thing. Besides, a spell like this cannot be helped sometime. You need rest.”
Father Alvarelo looked to me. “Do you have the key?”
“Yes, Father. Here,” I handed him the small item, and he rushed ahead of us to open the door.
“I do apologize for being so angry earlier.”
“All forgotten. You focus on getting better. We have our first class in a couple of days, and I certainly cannot do it without you.”
Carmen smiled at me as Father Alvarelo returned. “Here, Carmen, let me help you to bed,” he took her into his arms, lifting her off the floor with the lightest of touches. I followed him back into our quarters, and we helped settle Carmen under the covers. Just as we were leaving, Brother Ivan was arriving with a Tairona servant bearing soup, bread, and mango slices. A warm pot of tea was in the corner of the tray, wagging a thin, slow tail of steam from its spout. Close by, a little cup.
“How is she?” Brother Ivan caught his breath.
Father Alvarelo grinned. “My dear boy, you do not need to be so worried. So much travel and so few meals today have simply left Hermana Carmen in a bit of a spell. Stay with her, make sure she has her meal. Understand?”
“Yes, Father.” Brother Ivan led the servant into our room, and Father Alvarelo sighed. He leaned back against the wall with a mild sigh.
“Quite a day, yes?”
I nodded. “Yes, Father.”
“I know Father Leoncio upset you.”
“No,” I said hastily. “No, I behaved poorly. I heard him arguing with the Captain. He is right to be annoyed.”
“He is a bull. Takes so much to please him, and hardly anything to embitter him. Pay his moods little mind, or you will be miserable in paradise.”
“That is very kind advice, Father.”
“He did have a good idea though.”
I cocked my head. “Did he?”
“Yes. Come with me. The night is still early enough. I will show you the Tairona village.”
I barely had time to write my last entry, considering how fed up Carmen had become of me. Our fight was brief, and not so terrible. More like a mother angry at her child, though I wish Carmen would keep from speaking to me in such a manner. Yes, I am younger, but that does not make me a babe.
“You disappeared! Where did you go?”
“I heard voices. I wanted to see what they were.”
“Were you seen?”
I could not lie.
“Nieve, were you seen?” Carmen insisted.
“Yes,” I replied, and awaited the scourge that was about to render me guilty for the rest of the evening.
Carmen crossed her arms, she had already thrown down her sack next to one of the two small beds. I eyed my own, wanting nothing more than to escape under the covers. “So. Seen by who?”
“I am not sure. One of them was a Captain, a Captain Alejandro, and he was arguing with another priest here.”
“Perhaps I would not mind so much if you had gone unseen, but now? How rude they must consider us! We are supposed to be good examples for the children here, for the cloister at home.”
“We are, Carmen.”
“Oh, please, I don’t want to hear anymore,” she dropped onto the edge of her bed, and turned away from me. Haphazardly, I approached.
“Carmen,” I sat on the other side of the bed, my back also to her. I was afraid to look at her, I just felt so awful. “I am so sorry I offended you. I know you are homesick, and I must be making things harder. In any case, I do not think they will send us back to Spain for some cat-like curiosity.”
She must have heard the smile in my voice, and glancing over my shoulder I saw that her frown had been cracked. She did not want to smile, she wanted to be angry, but I could see that I had calmed her. Even if for a little bit.
“Perhaps I over-reacted.”
“I will make sure my trouble does not become your trouble… should I even fall in trouble,” I laughed, and she shook her head at me.
“A trouble maker. Despite all your oaths and promises to God - ”
“Oh, I meant every word!”
“To God, Carmen! You are still a trouble maker.”
“Perhaps I am,” I was up from her bed, our spat over and our spirits mended. I dropped onto my bed which stretched out from beneath a narrow window. “I like this place, Carmen. What do you think?”
We made idle chat, but eventually the long morning and noon caught up with us. We both drifted to sleep. My rest was dreamless, save for I was on the stone path leading through the jungle. The leaves were stirred by a faint breeze, and the stones rumbled beneath me. I awoke shivering and suddenly. I should not have been afraid. The steel rays of dawn had broken through the canopy, and there were crystal beads left on the leaves from a previous night’s rainfall. The scene was peaceful, but something startled me so.
I pressed up from my bed, washed my hands over my face and sighed the vision away just as the church bell struck. Adan, I thought I would leap out of my skin. Gathering my wits, I shook Carmen’s shoulder softly, raising her for the dinner Father Alvarelo had promised us earlier. When Carmen attempted to stand, she was off-balance. I was instantly there to steady her, and peered at her closely.
“Carmen, are you well?”
“Just hungry. May I lean on your arm on our way?”
“Of course, hermana, of course,” I cooed, and we linked arms together on our way through the hall. There were dim lamps bolted to the walls, all of them flickering to keep the night where it belonged; outside. Beyond the few windows we passed the sky was dark blue, and the forest’s canopy had become a rustling, shadowy blanket across the horizon.
We entered the mess. There were soldiers we recognized from earlier seated at one of the tables. There were Tairona sitting among them, and also populating the other table. They looked like some of the workers we had passed earlier that day. Sitting at a head table was Father Alvarelo, who excitedly waved us over, two deacons I did not recognized, a young boy in a simple robe and poncho, and the stolid looking priest I had seen earlier.
As Carmen and I made our way to the head table, I could not find Captain Alejandro, the angry man that had been so vehement with the older priest. There was a soldier among the group I did not recognize. He was eying Carmen and I up and down, and whispering with his comrades as we passed by.
Father Alvarelo was to his feet, and pulled out chairs for myself and Carmen. I helped Carmen to her seat. Her infirmity withdrew a frown from the young priest.
“I say, Hermana Carmen, are you well?”
Carmen smiled weakly. “I think I am in hungry spirits. I only had a little to eat on the ship before we docked today.”
“By all means then,” Father Alvarelo swiftly retrieved a bowl of bread. Carmen took a piece and attempted a few small bites. Father Alvarelo turned to me as Tairona servants brought out two deep dishes of soup, a bowl of fruit, and more bread. They also deposited wine and tea on the tables, and returned to the kitchen. “Have you two settled in well?”
“Yes, very much. We enjoyed a nice nap before dinner.”
Before I could say anything more, the older priest interjected. “Our new sister is quite inquisitive. Perhaps after dinner you could show her the Tairona village.”
My cheeks glowed red, my hands folded in my lap. Oh, God, forgive me. I really had been spotted. I began to think like Carmen; what an inconsiderate creature I had been. But you know me, Adan. I cannot help myself. My curiosity has always had the best of me.
“I would like to see the village,” I cleared my throat nervously. “I have heard so much about it.”
Father Alvarelo’s voice leveled into a serious tone. He nodded to the older priest. “This is Father Gabriel Leoncio. He founded this missionary.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Father Leoncio. I am - ”
“Hermana Nieve. Yes. Your abbess has appropriately identified you. Light brown eyes. Rather small. She neglected to mention you were a spy as well as a sister.”
“Father Leoncio, I heard shouting.”
He lifted his hand, sneering as he swirled some wine in a short goblet. “No, I think that is about enough.”
“Nieve…” Carmen’s voice was more than enough to draw my attentions away from this ghastly Father. How rude!
“Yes, Carmen.”
“Perhaps I should lie back down?”
“Oh, Carmen, you are quite pale.”
Father Alvarelo was to his feet, happy to escape the Father’s presence too, I think.
“Nieve, I will help you,” he said, drawing his arm around Carmen’s back. His other hand held hers in a gentle, yet supportive grip. He was so delicate with her. “Brother Ivan,” he called to the man in the simple robe. He sat up straight and suddenly, nearly choking on his soup. He had a very long face, contrasted by two very large hazel eyes and a tiny nose.
“Uh, yes, Father Alvarelo.”
“Send soup and bread to Hermana Carmen’s room, please? Make sure she eats.”
“Yes, Father,” he bobbed his head and went quickly into the kitchen.
“Come,” Father Alvarelo said to me, and we withdrew from the mess hall. I could still feel Father Leoncio’s gaze hard on the back of my neck until the doors shut behind us. “How long has she been feeling this way?” Father Alvarelo asked, his brows knit with concern.
“Oh, I am not sure. Since we woke for dinner. We had very little to eat today. I’m sure if she can rest and have some of her dinner she will be well.”
“You are both so kind,” Carmen swallowed, and leaned her head on my shoulder. “I am so sorry to interrupt dinner this way.”
“Do not be foolish,” I chastised her tenderly. “You did no such thing. Besides, a spell like this cannot be helped sometime. You need rest.”
Father Alvarelo looked to me. “Do you have the key?”
“Yes, Father. Here,” I handed him the small item, and he rushed ahead of us to open the door.
“I do apologize for being so angry earlier.”
“All forgotten. You focus on getting better. We have our first class in a couple of days, and I certainly cannot do it without you.”
Carmen smiled at me as Father Alvarelo returned. “Here, Carmen, let me help you to bed,” he took her into his arms, lifting her off the floor with the lightest of touches. I followed him back into our quarters, and we helped settle Carmen under the covers. Just as we were leaving, Brother Ivan was arriving with a Tairona servant bearing soup, bread, and mango slices. A warm pot of tea was in the corner of the tray, wagging a thin, slow tail of steam from its spout. Close by, a little cup.
“How is she?” Brother Ivan caught his breath.
Father Alvarelo grinned. “My dear boy, you do not need to be so worried. So much travel and so few meals today have simply left Hermana Carmen in a bit of a spell. Stay with her, make sure she has her meal. Understand?”
“Yes, Father.” Brother Ivan led the servant into our room, and Father Alvarelo sighed. He leaned back against the wall with a mild sigh.
“Quite a day, yes?”
I nodded. “Yes, Father.”
“I know Father Leoncio upset you.”
“No,” I said hastily. “No, I behaved poorly. I heard him arguing with the Captain. He is right to be annoyed.”
“He is a bull. Takes so much to please him, and hardly anything to embitter him. Pay his moods little mind, or you will be miserable in paradise.”
“That is very kind advice, Father.”
“He did have a good idea though.”
I cocked my head. “Did he?”
“Yes. Come with me. The night is still early enough. I will show you the Tairona village.”
Entry #4
Dear Adan,
The tour was short and enjoyable. Our guide was so entertaining. Seemed that aside from a good smoke, Father Alvarelo indulged in good jokes as well. We explored the tiny church. The rectory was modest with a book shelf buckling under the weight of tomes and other ledgers brought over from Spain and the Yucatan. The rectory led into another courtyard, this once smaller than the first. There was a garden on the far left side, and beyond that garden a small facility where the doctor lived. We made our way there first.
Herbs and vegetables stood guard of the little place, and the smell set my energies at ease. I was already beginning to settle into this new habitat, and who would have thought this garden would have been the cause? Here, out in the middle of a brand new world. Father Alvarelo knocked on the already open door, and was met by a smaller man in glasses. His dark hair was tied behind his head, revealing a face toughened by the sun and before that by maybe forty years.
“Victor,” he clasped our Father in a bear's embrace, and laughed out loud as he pat his 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 sisters we've heard so much about?”
“Yes, in fact.” Father Alvarelo stepped aside, presenting us. “Doctor Basilio P. 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 as well.”
“We are just as anxious to meet them,” I said.
There was some rustling behind him, and for the moment I was distracted. A young woman passed by. She had dark hair that fell in curls around her shoulders. As she slid past the doctor, she was pulling her hair up into a knot, and the look she gave us narrowed and measuring. The doctor did not seem to notice, but I certainly felt the sting and flinched as she approached.
“These the new teachers?”
“Yes,” Carmen said, extending her hand. “So nice to meet you.”
She snorted instead. “Likewise,” and trudged off. The doctor seemed more amused than embarrassed, and hooked his thumb once over his shoulder.
“Don't mind Pepita. She takes some getting used to, but she's one of my best nurses.”
“Well,” Father Alvarelo slapped Basilio's back. “We must be getting on. We'll see you for dinner tonight?”
“Of course! Take care. Hermana Nieve, Hermana Carmen, very lovely to meet you.”
“And you, doctor,” I was still mildly distracted by the rude entrance and exit of Pepita. Father Alvarelo touched my shoulder, again bringing me back from my thoughts.
“Are you all right, Hermana Nieve?”
“Yes, Father. Fine. Shall we continue?”
Back through the courtyard, where we entered a modest mess hall boasting two long tables, and a window to a silent kitchen. There were scattered groups of men. Some were having a conversation over liquor, others were smoking and playing cards, daring each other to throw in more coins and more of their time. Father Alvarelo opened his arms up to the room, smiling broadly.
“This is mess. The hours are a little strange, but you’ll get used to them. The cooks are generally friendly.”
“Says who?” A big man stood up from a card game, and draped his arm around Father Alvarelo. His cheeks were rosy, he had a gold piercing through his nostrils like the Tairona men below the hill, but he did not look Tairona. “Oooh, what have we here?”
“The sisters from Seville. They’re to teach the children.”
“Ah! Good luck. Those little whips are trouble,” he waved two large hands to the rest of the mess hall. The men were in leather and linen tunics and trousers. Their boots, though some went bare, were worn in and muddy. Their hair shorn and unkept. They did not look like the soldiers back in the port, but they were military men. Stony figures with strong expressions and hard eyes. “These are my sons. All of them. Maybe you girls could give them lessons in manners, too, eh?”
Carmen and I giggled, averting our gazes as the soldiers began looking up from their card games, books, and drinks. Father Alvarelo pat the cook in stained white clothing on the back and beckoned Carmen and I further into the fort.
We moved down a hall from the mess. Father Alvarelo had not even paused for breath. He was so excited, like you when you were a child, Adan. When you would build sand castles and tug on mother’s skirts until she came to investigate.
“Your presence is appreciated here. I would beg you to think on this decision.”
There were voices in the hall. I could only decipher what they were saying, not who they were coming from. Father Alvarelo had not seemed to notice yet.
“Think? There is nothing left to think or talk about. The position in the Yucatan is an opportunity I am not about to waste.”
“We need you here.”
The hall was intersected by another corridor where we could have traveled left or right. Carmen and Father Alvarelo had rounded the right hand corner, but at this moment I heard the argument off to the left. I broke away from the tour, and tip-toed curiously away.
“You do not need all of us. The Tairona trust you.“
There was an open door at the end of this left corridor, and two men were beyond this. They were standing close and arguing. One was a priest like Father Alvarelo, only much older, and his expression was stern and stubborn.
“This is not a strictly military matter, Captain Alejandro, and I would appreciate your candor in the future.”
The other man was a soldier with bound dark hair. He was unshaved, his eyes were set in a determined glare, and he gnashed his teeth as he spoke.
“You will take my word, or I will take my men.”
The priest was watching me, and I started away from the door. Before the other man could face me, I was off like a bullet. I swept up the corridor after Father Alvarelo and Carmen who had reached the end of the right corridor, and taken one final turn. I arrived just as Father Alvarelo was finishing the tour.
“… Your rooms are located in this wing of the mission.”
My arm was taken. “Where have you been?” Carmen mouthed.
“They are not much, I am afraid.”
I could only stare at her, my mouth open with nothing to say. I flinched from her probing stare. “Father Alvarelo, I am sure these will be perfect quarters for me and Hermana Carmen. We really do appreciate your hospitality.”
Father Alvarelo turned from unlocking a door, and handed me the key. “And we here at the mission are proud to offer it. Dinner will be in a few hours. You will hear the bell at the top of the church sound when it is ready.”
“Thank you, Father,” Carmen bobbed.
“Thank you,” I murmured as well, and Father Alvarelo left me alone with a very livid Carmen. She snatched the key, and strode heavily into our room.
The tour was short and enjoyable. Our guide was so entertaining. Seemed that aside from a good smoke, Father Alvarelo indulged in good jokes as well. We explored the tiny church. The rectory was modest with a book shelf buckling under the weight of tomes and other ledgers brought over from Spain and the Yucatan. The rectory led into another courtyard, this once smaller than the first. There was a garden on the far left side, and beyond that garden a small facility where the doctor lived. We made our way there first.
Herbs and vegetables stood guard of the little place, and the smell set my energies at ease. I was already beginning to settle into this new habitat, and who would have thought this garden would have been the cause? Here, out in the middle of a brand new world. Father Alvarelo knocked on the already open door, and was met by a smaller man in glasses. His dark hair was tied behind his head, revealing a face toughened by the sun and before that by maybe forty years.
“Victor,” he clasped our Father in a bear's embrace, and laughed out loud as he pat his 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 sisters we've heard so much about?”
“Yes, in fact.” Father Alvarelo stepped aside, presenting us. “Doctor Basilio P. 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 as well.”
“We are just as anxious to meet them,” I said.
There was some rustling behind him, and for the moment I was distracted. A young woman passed by. She had dark hair that fell in curls around her shoulders. As she slid past the doctor, she was pulling her hair up into a knot, and the look she gave us narrowed and measuring. The doctor did not seem to notice, but I certainly felt the sting and flinched as she approached.
“These the new teachers?”
“Yes,” Carmen said, extending her hand. “So nice to meet you.”
She snorted instead. “Likewise,” and trudged off. The doctor seemed more amused than embarrassed, and hooked his thumb once over his shoulder.
“Don't mind Pepita. She takes some getting used to, but she's one of my best nurses.”
“Well,” Father Alvarelo slapped Basilio's back. “We must be getting on. We'll see you for dinner tonight?”
“Of course! Take care. Hermana Nieve, Hermana Carmen, very lovely to meet you.”
“And you, doctor,” I was still mildly distracted by the rude entrance and exit of Pepita. Father Alvarelo touched my shoulder, again bringing me back from my thoughts.
“Are you all right, Hermana Nieve?”
“Yes, Father. Fine. Shall we continue?”
Back through the courtyard, where we entered a modest mess hall boasting two long tables, and a window to a silent kitchen. There were scattered groups of men. Some were having a conversation over liquor, others were smoking and playing cards, daring each other to throw in more coins and more of their time. Father Alvarelo opened his arms up to the room, smiling broadly.
“This is mess. The hours are a little strange, but you’ll get used to them. The cooks are generally friendly.”
“Says who?” A big man stood up from a card game, and draped his arm around Father Alvarelo. His cheeks were rosy, he had a gold piercing through his nostrils like the Tairona men below the hill, but he did not look Tairona. “Oooh, what have we here?”
“The sisters from Seville. They’re to teach the children.”
“Ah! Good luck. Those little whips are trouble,” he waved two large hands to the rest of the mess hall. The men were in leather and linen tunics and trousers. Their boots, though some went bare, were worn in and muddy. Their hair shorn and unkept. They did not look like the soldiers back in the port, but they were military men. Stony figures with strong expressions and hard eyes. “These are my sons. All of them. Maybe you girls could give them lessons in manners, too, eh?”
Carmen and I giggled, averting our gazes as the soldiers began looking up from their card games, books, and drinks. Father Alvarelo pat the cook in stained white clothing on the back and beckoned Carmen and I further into the fort.
We moved down a hall from the mess. Father Alvarelo had not even paused for breath. He was so excited, like you when you were a child, Adan. When you would build sand castles and tug on mother’s skirts until she came to investigate.
“Your presence is appreciated here. I would beg you to think on this decision.”
There were voices in the hall. I could only decipher what they were saying, not who they were coming from. Father Alvarelo had not seemed to notice yet.
“Think? There is nothing left to think or talk about. The position in the Yucatan is an opportunity I am not about to waste.”
“We need you here.”
The hall was intersected by another corridor where we could have traveled left or right. Carmen and Father Alvarelo had rounded the right hand corner, but at this moment I heard the argument off to the left. I broke away from the tour, and tip-toed curiously away.
“You do not need all of us. The Tairona trust you.“
There was an open door at the end of this left corridor, and two men were beyond this. They were standing close and arguing. One was a priest like Father Alvarelo, only much older, and his expression was stern and stubborn.
“This is not a strictly military matter, Captain Alejandro, and I would appreciate your candor in the future.”
The other man was a soldier with bound dark hair. He was unshaved, his eyes were set in a determined glare, and he gnashed his teeth as he spoke.
“You will take my word, or I will take my men.”
The priest was watching me, and I started away from the door. Before the other man could face me, I was off like a bullet. I swept up the corridor after Father Alvarelo and Carmen who had reached the end of the right corridor, and taken one final turn. I arrived just as Father Alvarelo was finishing the tour.
“… Your rooms are located in this wing of the mission.”
My arm was taken. “Where have you been?” Carmen mouthed.
“They are not much, I am afraid.”
I could only stare at her, my mouth open with nothing to say. I flinched from her probing stare. “Father Alvarelo, I am sure these will be perfect quarters for me and Hermana Carmen. We really do appreciate your hospitality.”
Father Alvarelo turned from unlocking a door, and handed me the key. “And we here at the mission are proud to offer it. Dinner will be in a few hours. You will hear the bell at the top of the church sound when it is ready.”
“Thank you, Father,” Carmen bobbed.
“Thank you,” I murmured as well, and Father Alvarelo left me alone with a very livid Carmen. She snatched the key, and strode heavily into our room.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Entry #3
This has been written, and it will be written over, and over, and over again. I have seen this story a dozen times. Infecting the walls, rendering her knuckles useless, fingernails split and inky, and her eyes so filled with tears. She never speaks, she just keeps… writing.
Adan!
We left once Father Alvarelo had finished his smoke, and the friendly deacon saw us all the way through to the border of the port. There were horses Father Alvarelo had waiting for us in the stable since the previous day, and I learned how to ride one for the first time! The Father was very patient. Now, Adan, I do not think I could take off at a heroic gallop any time soon, but I can make the horse walk, and even lead it into a trot.
A stone road tapered into the jungle beyond, shrouded by the sharp shade cast by a high noon sun over a lush canopy. While we left the port I was seized with a sudden memory of our childhood, Adan. We were playing in the woods. You were hiding, and I was seeking, and I could not find you. You played a nasty trick on me, you and your friends. I thought we were playing a game and you ran off.
I remember being so alone, and I was scared. I thought I heard you giggling in the bushes, under the roots, and behind the trees. I thought I heard your friends too. When I wandered back into our parents’ yard later, I had been lost for two hours. Your friends had gone home - too afraid to get in trouble - and you grabbed me. You embraced me so tightly, and you were so sorry. I had forgiven you, I just could never forgive myself for losing my way so quickly.
“Enchanting,” Father Alvarelo’s voice brought me back. “Just enchanting.”
The dark memory was left behind me as I took in this forest, unlike any I had ever seen. Trees reached to the sun, whose rays could barely muscle past the wide leaves and the woven black branches. What light could be spared came through in smooth yellow beams that kissed the ground. All around me the bugs were buzzing, and beyond the stone path there was movement in the jungle that was ceaseless. Whether this was the wind or a creature I could not yet identify was beyond me, and I did not know. The heat was forgotten, as well as the fact that my legs were burning from the uphill climb Carmen, myself, and Father Alvarelo were tackling.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I breathed.
Carmen was anxious, her head constantly whipping this and that way about her shoulders. “I feel like we are being watched.”
“We probably are,” Father Alvarelo chuckled, and shooed a grape sized fly off his horse's neck. “There are numerous creatures in these woods.”
“Are they… dangerous?” Carmen hazarded.
“Oh, well, some of them,” he looked back to find us both amazed and slack jawed. He winked, and moved on. Carmen and I were left exchanging a glance, only to race after him. A blur of questions were chomping at our lips, begging to inquire him: what creatures? What did they look like? When was this? Were you hurt?
Our would-be questions were silenced and swallowed. The stone path was fainter here, and had drawn off through a thicket. Father Alvarelo led us I into a clearing filled with huts, all sitting in the blue shadow of a mission sitting further up on a hill. The huts were odd, they were stone, but the roofing was made of reeds and ceramics, not thatches I am so accustomed to back in Seville. There were only a few of these abodes, each boasting inhabitants dressed in loin cloths, ponchos, and occasionally in a Spanish leather cuirass or robe. Their faces were pierced with gold studs and loops, their expressions curious and fixated on us. There were women seated outside these peculiar homes as well. They had long black hair, and they were beading jewelry in their laps, and some were bouncing wide-eyed babies on their knees.
“Is this the Tairona village we heard so much about?” I asked.
“This?” Father Alvarelo echoed. “No, these are a few volunteers from the village. They helped us build this mission. They help us maintain it as well. You’ll never find a more devoted congregation.”
A couple men passed us, as if on cue, and smiled at Father Alvarelo while they lifted a casual wave. They tipped their hats to us as well. We continued through this tiny gathering of huts, and climbed a dusty path to the top of the hill where the mission was waiting for us.
A timber perimeter enclosed the mission. Two Tairona boys rushed up to us from the courtyard, and Father Alvarelo hopped down to greet them, slipping them each a piece of candy. The boys spoke excitedly, and tugged on Father Alvarelo’s pockets before they were chided by a much bigger man from the stable. I could not understand him, but his words sounded like a song… an angry song, that made the boys leap into action. They were very insistent that we dismount. They waved their arms at themselves, crying: "Down! Down!" We descended from our saddles clumsily. Carmen managed fine, but my heel caught the stirrup oddly and I stumbled. Father Alvarelo caught me, his fingers wrapped around my arms to steady me. The horses were drawn away to the stable by the boys, one of them tugging on two sets of reigns, the other stifling a giggle at the Father and myself.
"Easy, easy,” he withdrew once he was sure I had my balance, and turned to Carmen who was marveling at the church. “Carmen is hypnotized,” he remarked.
“How long did it take to build this?” Carmen asked, her gaze fixated on the church.
“Not long,” Father Alvarelo made his way up the steps of the simple wooden church. “We are trying to reinforce the walls, lately the storms have been wanting in as much as the congregants. Please, come inside!”
Adan!
We left once Father Alvarelo had finished his smoke, and the friendly deacon saw us all the way through to the border of the port. There were horses Father Alvarelo had waiting for us in the stable since the previous day, and I learned how to ride one for the first time! The Father was very patient. Now, Adan, I do not think I could take off at a heroic gallop any time soon, but I can make the horse walk, and even lead it into a trot.
A stone road tapered into the jungle beyond, shrouded by the sharp shade cast by a high noon sun over a lush canopy. While we left the port I was seized with a sudden memory of our childhood, Adan. We were playing in the woods. You were hiding, and I was seeking, and I could not find you. You played a nasty trick on me, you and your friends. I thought we were playing a game and you ran off.
I remember being so alone, and I was scared. I thought I heard you giggling in the bushes, under the roots, and behind the trees. I thought I heard your friends too. When I wandered back into our parents’ yard later, I had been lost for two hours. Your friends had gone home - too afraid to get in trouble - and you grabbed me. You embraced me so tightly, and you were so sorry. I had forgiven you, I just could never forgive myself for losing my way so quickly.
“Enchanting,” Father Alvarelo’s voice brought me back. “Just enchanting.”
The dark memory was left behind me as I took in this forest, unlike any I had ever seen. Trees reached to the sun, whose rays could barely muscle past the wide leaves and the woven black branches. What light could be spared came through in smooth yellow beams that kissed the ground. All around me the bugs were buzzing, and beyond the stone path there was movement in the jungle that was ceaseless. Whether this was the wind or a creature I could not yet identify was beyond me, and I did not know. The heat was forgotten, as well as the fact that my legs were burning from the uphill climb Carmen, myself, and Father Alvarelo were tackling.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I breathed.
Carmen was anxious, her head constantly whipping this and that way about her shoulders. “I feel like we are being watched.”
“We probably are,” Father Alvarelo chuckled, and shooed a grape sized fly off his horse's neck. “There are numerous creatures in these woods.”
“Are they… dangerous?” Carmen hazarded.
“Oh, well, some of them,” he looked back to find us both amazed and slack jawed. He winked, and moved on. Carmen and I were left exchanging a glance, only to race after him. A blur of questions were chomping at our lips, begging to inquire him: what creatures? What did they look like? When was this? Were you hurt?
Our would-be questions were silenced and swallowed. The stone path was fainter here, and had drawn off through a thicket. Father Alvarelo led us I into a clearing filled with huts, all sitting in the blue shadow of a mission sitting further up on a hill. The huts were odd, they were stone, but the roofing was made of reeds and ceramics, not thatches I am so accustomed to back in Seville. There were only a few of these abodes, each boasting inhabitants dressed in loin cloths, ponchos, and occasionally in a Spanish leather cuirass or robe. Their faces were pierced with gold studs and loops, their expressions curious and fixated on us. There were women seated outside these peculiar homes as well. They had long black hair, and they were beading jewelry in their laps, and some were bouncing wide-eyed babies on their knees.
“Is this the Tairona village we heard so much about?” I asked.
“This?” Father Alvarelo echoed. “No, these are a few volunteers from the village. They helped us build this mission. They help us maintain it as well. You’ll never find a more devoted congregation.”
A couple men passed us, as if on cue, and smiled at Father Alvarelo while they lifted a casual wave. They tipped their hats to us as well. We continued through this tiny gathering of huts, and climbed a dusty path to the top of the hill where the mission was waiting for us.
A timber perimeter enclosed the mission. Two Tairona boys rushed up to us from the courtyard, and Father Alvarelo hopped down to greet them, slipping them each a piece of candy. The boys spoke excitedly, and tugged on Father Alvarelo’s pockets before they were chided by a much bigger man from the stable. I could not understand him, but his words sounded like a song… an angry song, that made the boys leap into action. They were very insistent that we dismount. They waved their arms at themselves, crying: "Down! Down!" We descended from our saddles clumsily. Carmen managed fine, but my heel caught the stirrup oddly and I stumbled. Father Alvarelo caught me, his fingers wrapped around my arms to steady me. The horses were drawn away to the stable by the boys, one of them tugging on two sets of reigns, the other stifling a giggle at the Father and myself.
"Easy, easy,” he withdrew once he was sure I had my balance, and turned to Carmen who was marveling at the church. “Carmen is hypnotized,” he remarked.
“How long did it take to build this?” Carmen asked, her gaze fixated on the church.
“Not long,” Father Alvarelo made his way up the steps of the simple wooden church. “We are trying to reinforce the walls, lately the storms have been wanting in as much as the congregants. Please, come inside!”
Monday, November 2, 2009
Entry #2
Adan!
We have arrived in one piece, we are in the port of Santa Marta. I must have been so obnoxious this morning. I ran to Carmen’s cabin as soon as I was dressed and literally barged my way in. My, was she surprised by how tightly I embraced her!
“You’re much stronger than my brothers for such a little thing.”
“Carmen, we’re here. Can you believe this?”
“Be still, sister, you are far too loud!”
“We must go on deck - Hurry! Hurry!”
“Yes, yes. Go on without me, Nieve.” Carmen laughed. “I will be there when I have finished packing!”
My feet had developed their own impulses. At that moment, they took off, carrying me with them. We raced through the galley, and climbed the stairs two at a time for the deck. Passengers were gathered along the edge of the ship, gasping and cooing in a mixture of relief and exuberance upon finally catching sight of the destination that had been teasing us, hiding behind the horizon for months. Behind the gathered crowd, the crew was bustling to prepare the ship for docking. Their feet slapped across the deck in a hurried rhythm, and whistles pierced their commands from the low deck, to the highest rigging. The last time the ship was this crowded and active, Adan, we were leaving for Santa Marta. Now? Here we are!
The smell of the day’s previous storm was in the air, wet and so refreshing. The storm had dented the humidity, and the sun burned warmly on the back of my neck. The port was bathed in a welcoming light, and was so appealing it took clenching my hands around the parapet to keep from leaping into the turquoise water to reach the white shore. This was no longer a dream induced by the rocking in my cabin; my eyes were open and truly seeing Santa Marta. In a matter of moments, we would be anchored and bound to this place.
The plank hit the deck, and I was off like a shooting star, only this time dragging Carmen with me. She held her coif close to her head, her skirts billowing behind her like a sail - can you imagine your sister, Adan, bearing such speed? But I did that morning, and I was not about to let up.
“Hermana Nieve, you are possessed. Slow down!”
I turned, marching backwards much to her chagrin, as I spoke excitedly. “This is remarkable. Carmen, don’t you realize?” Carmen latched onto my shoulders, guiding me around fishermen, soldiers, and other tradesmen. “We are half way around the world. The world! In your whole life, Carmen, did you ever think you would be here?”
“Nieve, please, look where you are going.”
I spun back around, and managed to skip over a length of rope coiled high. A group of fishermen snickered and smiled. They went back to sharing cigarettes after I waved. Carmen rolled her eyes and linked arms with me.
“If I don’t keep a hold of you, my suddenly so sprightly sister, I am afraid you will take off into the very jungle.”
I chuckled. “Perhaps it is for the best then. I will try to contain myself.”
We entered the busy port. Oh, Adan, you would have loved it here! There was so much food. There was conch cooked in hot oil with plantains, and I could smell coconut milk in almost everything we passed. Women were selling long strands of beads, and there were men with such dark skin holding up wood carvings of creatures and masks. Others offered us pink and cream colored shells, and still others unfurled tapestries along their arms to blow their colors in the wind. They drew so close to us, trying to sell their goods, that they made Carmen flush and press on quickly with me in tow. She pulled out a copy of the charge we had received from our church back in Spain.
“Where are we supposed to be heading again?”
“You could not have forgotten how to read on our trip,” I teased, and she pinched my side as she set to reading.
“We are to meet at the Santa Marta cathedral close to the dock. A missionary will be there.” Carmen fanned herself with the letter. Her face was bright red, and there was an uneven line of perspiration that had soaked through her coif. “We should find him quickly.”
We walked around the port only a little while longer until we found a modest looking cathedral. The walls were tall and white, the windows narrow and painted. A bell was tolling the hour above our heads in beautiful, low tons that bellowed across the bustling port. Carmen pushed open the heavy door, and had to catch me by the wrist to pull me in. I just could not help myself - I wanted to stay outside, despite how hot the morning was.
The wooden door sighed shut behind our heels. Inside, we could see just how detailed those painted windows were. One panel boasted a serene Virgin Mary painted in deep blues, pure whites, and strong reds. Her face was glowing and charming. What a sight to see her smiling so benevolently on us from the still glass. I felt as if she were welcoming me. Carmen and I crossed ourselves, and knelt in the nave beneath the feet of a tall, wood carved savior.
Carmen prayed for us both. “Dear Lord. Bless you for our swift and safe delivery, and bless us with your guidance, your strength, and your kindness.”
We said, “Amen,” together and stood after crossing again.
“Excuse me.” The voice met our backs meekly, as if a mouse had uttered the polite interjection. We turned to find a gentle, young man standing in the aisle. His smile was hospitable, his cheeks and neck shiny with just the slightest sheen of perspiration. He wore a linen tunic with a similar linen stole draped across his left shoulder.
The letter resurfaced from Carmen’s knapsack. She unfolded it with one hand, and peered at the man over the edge of the paper. “Do you know where we could find… Father Victor Alvarelo?”
“Oh, you must be the sisters from the cloister Santa Maria back in Spain. Seville, yes?”
“Yes,” I smiled, and he returned the expression with a sigh of gentle relief.
“Father Alvarelo heard from the dock master yesterday that you would be delayed, and took lodgings not too far from here. I can take you to him now, if you’ll just follow me.”
Carmen and I nodded. “Thank you,” she said as the hushed deacon led us from the cathedral.
We were brought into a dimly lit tavern. The room was layered with drifting curtains of smoke, and some of the most bizarre and tantalizing smells were coming out of a bright kitchen. There were soldiers sitting around a game of cards, nursing cups of coffee. Patrons were huddled over the bar, muttering with the bartender, and there was a cook at the far end of the room napping with a book folded on his chest. Upon our entrance, all eyes were on us, the new strangers shadowing the bright faced deacon. After they had soaked in our presence, they returned to their present occupancies. Flipping cards on the table, continuing their whispered conversations with the bartender, the chef abandoning his book to check on something in the kitchen before returning to continue his nap.
I saw a hand rise, a small, smoking reed pinched between the forefinger and middle finger. A tall and lean looking man stood. The deacon gasped with recognition, waved, and gestured for us to follow him around patrons and tables. I had a clear view of the man now. He was young, but still older than the deacon escorting us, I think. His skin was darkly tanned. A thin beard framed the length of his jaw, and climbed into a head of unruly hair somehow tamed by a wide-brimmed, old leather hat. He was wrapped in a loose linen cassock. A stole, much like the deacon’s, was wrapped around his hip, and a wooden rosary looped around his left wrist. He turned from us to stamp out his hand-rolled tobacco, and met us with a beaming smile. He removed the hat, held the garment over his heart, and nodded.
“You are the sisters sent from Spain.” It was as if he could not believe we were standing in front of him. He was very spirited. His smile would have been as bright as the candles stationed in dusty lanterns on the tables, only this delighted expression never flickered or wavered, and as such shone brighter than those little flames surrounding us.
“I am so happy you have come to us. We have been looking forward to your arrival, and I must confess,” his honey brown eyes darted away sheepishly, “you could not have come at a better time.”
“We are blessed to be here, Father Alvarelo,” Carmen was beaming, and how could one blame her? He studied our faces, pleased with Carmen’s answer, and his smile seemed to grow upon looking into my eyes.
“Well, my dear sisters,” his arms opened welcomingly, “would you like to see the mission?”
We have arrived in one piece, we are in the port of Santa Marta. I must have been so obnoxious this morning. I ran to Carmen’s cabin as soon as I was dressed and literally barged my way in. My, was she surprised by how tightly I embraced her!
“You’re much stronger than my brothers for such a little thing.”
“Carmen, we’re here. Can you believe this?”
“Be still, sister, you are far too loud!”
“We must go on deck - Hurry! Hurry!”
“Yes, yes. Go on without me, Nieve.” Carmen laughed. “I will be there when I have finished packing!”
My feet had developed their own impulses. At that moment, they took off, carrying me with them. We raced through the galley, and climbed the stairs two at a time for the deck. Passengers were gathered along the edge of the ship, gasping and cooing in a mixture of relief and exuberance upon finally catching sight of the destination that had been teasing us, hiding behind the horizon for months. Behind the gathered crowd, the crew was bustling to prepare the ship for docking. Their feet slapped across the deck in a hurried rhythm, and whistles pierced their commands from the low deck, to the highest rigging. The last time the ship was this crowded and active, Adan, we were leaving for Santa Marta. Now? Here we are!
The smell of the day’s previous storm was in the air, wet and so refreshing. The storm had dented the humidity, and the sun burned warmly on the back of my neck. The port was bathed in a welcoming light, and was so appealing it took clenching my hands around the parapet to keep from leaping into the turquoise water to reach the white shore. This was no longer a dream induced by the rocking in my cabin; my eyes were open and truly seeing Santa Marta. In a matter of moments, we would be anchored and bound to this place.
The plank hit the deck, and I was off like a shooting star, only this time dragging Carmen with me. She held her coif close to her head, her skirts billowing behind her like a sail - can you imagine your sister, Adan, bearing such speed? But I did that morning, and I was not about to let up.
“Hermana Nieve, you are possessed. Slow down!”
I turned, marching backwards much to her chagrin, as I spoke excitedly. “This is remarkable. Carmen, don’t you realize?” Carmen latched onto my shoulders, guiding me around fishermen, soldiers, and other tradesmen. “We are half way around the world. The world! In your whole life, Carmen, did you ever think you would be here?”
“Nieve, please, look where you are going.”
I spun back around, and managed to skip over a length of rope coiled high. A group of fishermen snickered and smiled. They went back to sharing cigarettes after I waved. Carmen rolled her eyes and linked arms with me.
“If I don’t keep a hold of you, my suddenly so sprightly sister, I am afraid you will take off into the very jungle.”
I chuckled. “Perhaps it is for the best then. I will try to contain myself.”
We entered the busy port. Oh, Adan, you would have loved it here! There was so much food. There was conch cooked in hot oil with plantains, and I could smell coconut milk in almost everything we passed. Women were selling long strands of beads, and there were men with such dark skin holding up wood carvings of creatures and masks. Others offered us pink and cream colored shells, and still others unfurled tapestries along their arms to blow their colors in the wind. They drew so close to us, trying to sell their goods, that they made Carmen flush and press on quickly with me in tow. She pulled out a copy of the charge we had received from our church back in Spain.
“Where are we supposed to be heading again?”
“You could not have forgotten how to read on our trip,” I teased, and she pinched my side as she set to reading.
“We are to meet at the Santa Marta cathedral close to the dock. A missionary will be there.” Carmen fanned herself with the letter. Her face was bright red, and there was an uneven line of perspiration that had soaked through her coif. “We should find him quickly.”
We walked around the port only a little while longer until we found a modest looking cathedral. The walls were tall and white, the windows narrow and painted. A bell was tolling the hour above our heads in beautiful, low tons that bellowed across the bustling port. Carmen pushed open the heavy door, and had to catch me by the wrist to pull me in. I just could not help myself - I wanted to stay outside, despite how hot the morning was.
The wooden door sighed shut behind our heels. Inside, we could see just how detailed those painted windows were. One panel boasted a serene Virgin Mary painted in deep blues, pure whites, and strong reds. Her face was glowing and charming. What a sight to see her smiling so benevolently on us from the still glass. I felt as if she were welcoming me. Carmen and I crossed ourselves, and knelt in the nave beneath the feet of a tall, wood carved savior.
Carmen prayed for us both. “Dear Lord. Bless you for our swift and safe delivery, and bless us with your guidance, your strength, and your kindness.”
We said, “Amen,” together and stood after crossing again.
“Excuse me.” The voice met our backs meekly, as if a mouse had uttered the polite interjection. We turned to find a gentle, young man standing in the aisle. His smile was hospitable, his cheeks and neck shiny with just the slightest sheen of perspiration. He wore a linen tunic with a similar linen stole draped across his left shoulder.
The letter resurfaced from Carmen’s knapsack. She unfolded it with one hand, and peered at the man over the edge of the paper. “Do you know where we could find… Father Victor Alvarelo?”
“Oh, you must be the sisters from the cloister Santa Maria back in Spain. Seville, yes?”
“Yes,” I smiled, and he returned the expression with a sigh of gentle relief.
“Father Alvarelo heard from the dock master yesterday that you would be delayed, and took lodgings not too far from here. I can take you to him now, if you’ll just follow me.”
Carmen and I nodded. “Thank you,” she said as the hushed deacon led us from the cathedral.
We were brought into a dimly lit tavern. The room was layered with drifting curtains of smoke, and some of the most bizarre and tantalizing smells were coming out of a bright kitchen. There were soldiers sitting around a game of cards, nursing cups of coffee. Patrons were huddled over the bar, muttering with the bartender, and there was a cook at the far end of the room napping with a book folded on his chest. Upon our entrance, all eyes were on us, the new strangers shadowing the bright faced deacon. After they had soaked in our presence, they returned to their present occupancies. Flipping cards on the table, continuing their whispered conversations with the bartender, the chef abandoning his book to check on something in the kitchen before returning to continue his nap.
I saw a hand rise, a small, smoking reed pinched between the forefinger and middle finger. A tall and lean looking man stood. The deacon gasped with recognition, waved, and gestured for us to follow him around patrons and tables. I had a clear view of the man now. He was young, but still older than the deacon escorting us, I think. His skin was darkly tanned. A thin beard framed the length of his jaw, and climbed into a head of unruly hair somehow tamed by a wide-brimmed, old leather hat. He was wrapped in a loose linen cassock. A stole, much like the deacon’s, was wrapped around his hip, and a wooden rosary looped around his left wrist. He turned from us to stamp out his hand-rolled tobacco, and met us with a beaming smile. He removed the hat, held the garment over his heart, and nodded.
“You are the sisters sent from Spain.” It was as if he could not believe we were standing in front of him. He was very spirited. His smile would have been as bright as the candles stationed in dusty lanterns on the tables, only this delighted expression never flickered or wavered, and as such shone brighter than those little flames surrounding us.
“I am so happy you have come to us. We have been looking forward to your arrival, and I must confess,” his honey brown eyes darted away sheepishly, “you could not have come at a better time.”
“We are blessed to be here, Father Alvarelo,” Carmen was beaming, and how could one blame her? He studied our faces, pleased with Carmen’s answer, and his smile seemed to grow upon looking into my eyes.
“Well, my dear sisters,” his arms opened welcomingly, “would you like to see the mission?”
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Entry #1
Adan,
I am sitting on a tavern’s porch under a red wooden canopy between Cartagena and Santa Marta, and the storm has come in on rolling, thick clouds. Every eye on our ship has been set on the horizon since this morning. Men with piercing, and assured dark eyes, were for once apprehensive and doubtful as they looked at the far off cluster of stormy boulders.
Having finished my breakfast, I climbed the steps from the galley expecting to step into another sunny Caribbean morning, but instead saw an ashen sky, and felt this churlish wind wrap around my neck. One of the sailors, a gruff man chewing his words over with a lump of tobacco, pointed a callused finger out to sea.
"You just look out there, Hermana Nieve," he grunted. "You want us to sail in that, eh?"
He was indicating the nest of swollen black clouds, pregnant with what I could assume were outrageous winds and ear popping thunder. The mass was dragging a black veil across the choppy horizon, and occasionally lightening tongues would slither and lick along the nebulous bellies.
I shook my head, transfixed on the darkness far ahead of us. "No, signor," I said, my whispered words were carried away with a passing hiss of wind.
"You and the captain both. He's seen it all, too. Seen it all." His smile was big, his tiny eyes pinched and sparkling with humor at me, now quivering and pale at the sight of such natural power combing the sea. It stalked like some sort of beast, and we could feel its thunderous footfalls on the air. "Maybe you missed your calling as a captain, eh?"
I smiled. "Maybe, signor."
These are hard men I have been traveling with, Adan. Even on this voyage, the storms that frightened me to tears are not nearly as bad as the maelstroms they have lived through. Worked through! Even so, the Captain, who is always the first to rise, insisted we dock as soon as we cleared Cartagena. We would have docked there, but pirates had taken the city, and the Captain thought it too risky for me and my traveling companion, Carmen, to step ashore there.
By late afternoon we had pulled into the small port of Santa Ana, and docked. The Captain, his crew, and the handful of other passengers Carmen and I had been traveling with disembarked and made our way to the nearest tavern. The rain had already started.
So, here I am, beneath this canopy, waiting for Carmen to bring us something warm to drink. She really is so sweet. The kindest girl you’d ever meet, Adan. If she were not so committed to our sisters, I daresay she would have been the best girl for you! Like me she is a novitiate. We are both only a year or so out from our integration into the cloister. Although Carmen is very headstrong about joining the sisters, I am more interested in imploring an anchorite’s abode from the Bishop.
The rain sounds like tiny pebbles on wooden canopy over my head. So peaceful. I watch the puddles in the mud beyond the tavern’s steps. They are spitting back tiny brown beads every time a drop of water strikes the surface. I know the ship is out there, beyond this wall of constantly shifting water, but she is only an outline now. A ghost drifting behind this flowing veil between me and the dock.
“Two teas,” Carmen said upon her return.
I jumped a little. “Carmen, you startled me.”
“Oh, I am sorry, dear,” she giggled as she settled next to me, and to my surprise she had also brought us a dish of grilled pawpaw! We sipped our tea and ate our fruit, and she eyed the book sitting in my lap, at the time sheathing what was left of my graphite pencil. “How is Adan?”
“He’s doing well,” I said, and set my book off to the side. “I am telling him all about our trip.”
Carmen frowned. “Even the bits where I was sea sick.”
“Especially those!”
“The Captain said we should be clear to set out tomorrow.”
“Really? I feel like this rain could never let up.”
“Are you excited about Santa Marta?”
“Yes, very much.”
Carmen was so quiet all of a sudden. Her head had bowed very low that I thought her chin transformed to lead. In contrast to such a heavy expression, her fingertip lightly traced the lip of her nearly empty tea cup. “Me too.”
“Sister,” I touched her wrist, “you seem so worried.”
“I must confess I am a… little nervous.”
“Oh, Carmen,” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. “Why? Is it the storm that has you out of sorts?”
“I’m not sure,” she said distantly, and then leaned back so she could look at me with her big hazel eyes. “Just homesick.“ There were tears there, my face melted with sympathy. “I miss the cloister.”
“I do too,” I confided, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Though, I will admit only to you for now, I was not particularly so homesick as Carmen. I did miss our cloister, of course, but this was just so eclipsed by the eagerness I had for this land I had never seen before. Still, Adan, was I lying? Carmen felt so alone without the sisters, I just wanted her to know she wasn’t.
At that moment, the table of sailors back inside the tavern erupted with laughter to what I could only assume was a well-timed joke. They were slapping the table, making their food and frothy beers jump up and down. I chuckled, and this brought a smile back to Carmen’s face. “But we will see them so soon! The year will fly.”
There was a clap of thunder. My heart skipped a beat.
“You’ll see, Carmen, I promise.”
We had more tea, and watched the storm a little longer before retiring to bed. I could hear the thunder growling as I prayed. Crawling into bed, laying still as I waited for sleep, I listened to the rain dance across my window. The lightening winked across the sky, momentarily casting dark shapes in my room, contorted and strange against the sudden brilliance. Even so, I was lulled to sleep.
I am sitting on a tavern’s porch under a red wooden canopy between Cartagena and Santa Marta, and the storm has come in on rolling, thick clouds. Every eye on our ship has been set on the horizon since this morning. Men with piercing, and assured dark eyes, were for once apprehensive and doubtful as they looked at the far off cluster of stormy boulders.
Having finished my breakfast, I climbed the steps from the galley expecting to step into another sunny Caribbean morning, but instead saw an ashen sky, and felt this churlish wind wrap around my neck. One of the sailors, a gruff man chewing his words over with a lump of tobacco, pointed a callused finger out to sea.
"You just look out there, Hermana Nieve," he grunted. "You want us to sail in that, eh?"
He was indicating the nest of swollen black clouds, pregnant with what I could assume were outrageous winds and ear popping thunder. The mass was dragging a black veil across the choppy horizon, and occasionally lightening tongues would slither and lick along the nebulous bellies.
I shook my head, transfixed on the darkness far ahead of us. "No, signor," I said, my whispered words were carried away with a passing hiss of wind.
"You and the captain both. He's seen it all, too. Seen it all." His smile was big, his tiny eyes pinched and sparkling with humor at me, now quivering and pale at the sight of such natural power combing the sea. It stalked like some sort of beast, and we could feel its thunderous footfalls on the air. "Maybe you missed your calling as a captain, eh?"
I smiled. "Maybe, signor."
These are hard men I have been traveling with, Adan. Even on this voyage, the storms that frightened me to tears are not nearly as bad as the maelstroms they have lived through. Worked through! Even so, the Captain, who is always the first to rise, insisted we dock as soon as we cleared Cartagena. We would have docked there, but pirates had taken the city, and the Captain thought it too risky for me and my traveling companion, Carmen, to step ashore there.
By late afternoon we had pulled into the small port of Santa Ana, and docked. The Captain, his crew, and the handful of other passengers Carmen and I had been traveling with disembarked and made our way to the nearest tavern. The rain had already started.
So, here I am, beneath this canopy, waiting for Carmen to bring us something warm to drink. She really is so sweet. The kindest girl you’d ever meet, Adan. If she were not so committed to our sisters, I daresay she would have been the best girl for you! Like me she is a novitiate. We are both only a year or so out from our integration into the cloister. Although Carmen is very headstrong about joining the sisters, I am more interested in imploring an anchorite’s abode from the Bishop.
The rain sounds like tiny pebbles on wooden canopy over my head. So peaceful. I watch the puddles in the mud beyond the tavern’s steps. They are spitting back tiny brown beads every time a drop of water strikes the surface. I know the ship is out there, beyond this wall of constantly shifting water, but she is only an outline now. A ghost drifting behind this flowing veil between me and the dock.
“Two teas,” Carmen said upon her return.
I jumped a little. “Carmen, you startled me.”
“Oh, I am sorry, dear,” she giggled as she settled next to me, and to my surprise she had also brought us a dish of grilled pawpaw! We sipped our tea and ate our fruit, and she eyed the book sitting in my lap, at the time sheathing what was left of my graphite pencil. “How is Adan?”
“He’s doing well,” I said, and set my book off to the side. “I am telling him all about our trip.”
Carmen frowned. “Even the bits where I was sea sick.”
“Especially those!”
“The Captain said we should be clear to set out tomorrow.”
“Really? I feel like this rain could never let up.”
“Are you excited about Santa Marta?”
“Yes, very much.”
Carmen was so quiet all of a sudden. Her head had bowed very low that I thought her chin transformed to lead. In contrast to such a heavy expression, her fingertip lightly traced the lip of her nearly empty tea cup. “Me too.”
“Sister,” I touched her wrist, “you seem so worried.”
“I must confess I am a… little nervous.”
“Oh, Carmen,” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. “Why? Is it the storm that has you out of sorts?”
“I’m not sure,” she said distantly, and then leaned back so she could look at me with her big hazel eyes. “Just homesick.“ There were tears there, my face melted with sympathy. “I miss the cloister.”
“I do too,” I confided, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Though, I will admit only to you for now, I was not particularly so homesick as Carmen. I did miss our cloister, of course, but this was just so eclipsed by the eagerness I had for this land I had never seen before. Still, Adan, was I lying? Carmen felt so alone without the sisters, I just wanted her to know she wasn’t.
At that moment, the table of sailors back inside the tavern erupted with laughter to what I could only assume was a well-timed joke. They were slapping the table, making their food and frothy beers jump up and down. I chuckled, and this brought a smile back to Carmen’s face. “But we will see them so soon! The year will fly.”
There was a clap of thunder. My heart skipped a beat.
“You’ll see, Carmen, I promise.”
We had more tea, and watched the storm a little longer before retiring to bed. I could hear the thunder growling as I prayed. Crawling into bed, laying still as I waited for sleep, I listened to the rain dance across my window. The lightening winked across the sky, momentarily casting dark shapes in my room, contorted and strange against the sudden brilliance. Even so, I was lulled to sleep.
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