Anacaona Page 9

  Suddenly, my heart did almost stop. One of the men fired his lightning stick at Marahay, who went stumbling forward with Higuamota. There was a cloud of smoke around Marahay and Higuamota as they both lay on the ground. Another of our servants rushed forward to collect my daughter. I myself was running to her, but the short distance seemed so far, until I reached her and took her from one of our warriors who had grabbed her off the ground, where she lay next to Marahay, who was still moaning there.

  I was happy to have Higuamota in my arms again. She was unharmed, thankfully only a bit dusty. Marahay was not bruised or hurt. The firing stick had missed her, but had scared her so much that she had stumbled against a rock. All the agitation had frightened Higuamota so much that she was now crying. I, too, was crying, yelling in the direction of the man who had fired at Higuamota and Marahay. I can’t remember all the words I shouted at him, for it seemed that from the time Marahay had fallen to the time I once again had Higuamota in my arms I didn’t hear, see, or feel anything besides wanting to save her.

  From across the plaza, Caonabó asked if Higuamota was hurt. He was so angry that his face was twisted and soaked with sweat. I replied that she was well and so was Marahay. As soon as he had my assurance that both Higuamota and Marahay were fine, Caonabó leaped at the man who had fired at them, letting out a thunderous cry, ordering his people to attack. As our warriors and servants all swooped down on the men, I ran inland, to see Higuamota safely to Simihena’s house. Once Higuamota was safe, I would return, not only to avenge this one brutal act but to help assure that something like this would never happen again.

  LAST QUARTER MOON, DAY 17

  These four terrible men are dead. And I took part in it. I am trembling even now and find it very hard to elaborate on the extent of my participation. The way the villagers tell it, and I suspect the way the ballads will be sung and stories recited about this day, is that, soon after I fled with Higuamota, Caonabó’s anger made him even bolder and braver than usual and he threw himself at the pale men’s leader, wrenching the lightning stick from his hand while pounding a stone at his head until he was no longer breathing. Our warriors similarly attacked two of the others and, soon after, their bodies were taken to the sea and thrown into the waves so that if they had indeed fallen from the skies, they might immediately return to the skies from the sea. This is where I participated. Once Higuamota was safely with Simihena, I returned to our house to find one last pale man left in the plaza. He was bound with strong ropes to the chair that Caonabó had graciously offered him earlier, a beautiful duho he had tried to tear apart for gold.

  This last man had not been killed because Caonabó was waiting for all his warriors to gather before he would take him to the sea to test whether he would survive under the waves. Somehow I knew (and I think Caonabó did, too) that this man would not survive the sea, especially if he was thrown in with his arms and legs bound. But I didn’t stop Caonabó from gathering all the subchiefs and warriors to watch. Just as they had done with the others, our men removed his clothes to see if this last pale man had a navel. Watching, I could see that indeed he did have a navel, though it was small and ashen like the rest of his skin and was buried deep inside his large stomach. For a moment I had thought that perhaps these men were apparitions, entities that floated dangerously between the living and the dead, creatures that did have navels, but navels so small and white that you could barely see them.

  When the last pale man was thrown, alive, into the sea, he sank like an empty vessel. Immediately, my heart sank, too. But my guilt did not last long. These creatures could have easily taken my daughter’s life. And if they had, I would be the one disappearing now, beneath the waves, in their place. For surely my grief would be too much to bear.

  LAST QUARTER MOON, DAY 18

  Marahay is now resting. Our healer gave her a potion that put her to sleep once all four of the pale men were dead. After visiting with Marahay, I suggested that Caonabó send word to all the caciques of Quisqueya to gather in Xaraguá, which had still not been reached by the pale men, so that they might sit together and talk about this new menace in our region. We go tomorrow at dawn, by sea to Xaraguá. I will leave my Higuamota in the care of Simihena, who I know will keep her safe for me. I hope that we have seen the last of these men, but perhaps we have not.

  A riddle too frightening to contemplate:

  What if there are more of them? Many, many more of them?

  Even more of them than there are of us, just waiting to attack and destroy us for our gold?

  LAST QUARTER MOON, DAY 19

  Land at last! I rejoice to be back in my old home, back in Xaraguá. We immediately rushed to Behechio, who was extremely happy to see us alive. The other caciques had not yet arrived, so we told Behechio of our encounter with the pale men. He, too, had his own tales to share. From what he’d heard, there were indeed more of these men in Chief Guacanagarí’s region. Chief Guacanagarí was friendly with them, had even made a pact with them, offering them a settlement site in exchange for protection against the Kalinas. Consistent with what we had seen, the pale men in Marién also had a strong desire for gold. They asked for it constantly, as if it were food or drink, and were never satisfied with the amounts they were given. They had even frightened off some of the Kalinas.

  “So these men are stronger than the Kalinas?” Caonabó asked.

  Behechio said that from what he’d heard they were. He had not seen any himself, but had listened to accounts from those who had fled Marién and passed through his territory. There was one subchief from Marién who was now taking refuge in Baba and Bibi’s house. Caonabó and I asked to see him, and Behechio sent for him immediately.

  I did not wait for the subchief to come, but quickly went to Baba and Bibi’s house, for I was most eager to see them. Like everyone else, Bibi seemed troubled. Only Baba was calm, saying if it took a menace to bring me back to Xaraguá, he was still delighted to see me again.

  Eager to see the subchief from Marién, Caonabó soon arrived at Baba and Bibi’s house, but the subchief was not there. According to Bibi, he had fled to the mountains to hide. Most of those who had seen the pale men did the same thing, Baba said, thinking they were visions of souls they had wronged in life who had returned to exact revenge on them.

  Caonabó and I assured everyone that the pale men were not the Night Marchers we had heard about all our lives. They were people, he said. Like the Kalinas. They were cruel men who would not hesitate to harm an old woman or a child.

  “I would like to see my nephew,” I said, trying to calm things.

  Bibi brought Guarocuyá out for me to see. How strong he looks. How handsome. The spitting image, I must admit, of his father. I wish there was more time to just sit and hold him, but we had very pressing matters at hand.

  LAST QUARTER MOON, DAY 20

  Caonabó’s brother, Manicaotex, arrived at dusk with a large group of fighters. Being so much like his brother, both in appearance and in temperament, he instantly declared that we should take all our fighters to Marién to see for ourselves what the pale men were doing there.

  There is no time to wait for the distant Chief Cotubanamá of Higüey. We will leave for Marién at dawn. Caonabó, Manicaotex, and I will go by sea with most of our fighters. Manicaotex’s people will go by land. Behechio will remain in Xaraguá so we can have one cacique in place in one of our three regions. We no longer trust Chief Guacanagarí’s loyalties. It is possible that he is no longer on our side. And if we have to fight him, for the sake of our land and our people, we will.

  Our decision made, we lit no fires at dusk and sat inside Behechio’s house all night. In case the pale men traveled at night, we did not want to make it easier for them to find us.

  As I held my nephew Guarocuyá again, this time in the dark, I kept thinking of my Higuamota. What was she doing? Laughing? Crying? Was she thinking of me, just as I was thinking of her?

  “Guarocuyá, tomorrow at dawn we leave to fight for you.” I
spoke these words in my nephew’s ear the way I would like to have spoken them in Higuamota’s. “We will all fight bravely for you and Higuamota and all of Quisqueya’s children. If we do not finish the battle, it is your duty to finish it for us and it is your burden to succeed.”

  In the pitch-dark of the night, my brother’s voice floated toward me from the opposite corner of the room.

  “Anacaona,” he said, “he is too young to understand.”

  Somehow I could feel it in a place so deep in me that it has no top or bottom, no beginning or end. Perhaps Guarocuyá was too young to understand, but I know he heard me, because when I was done speaking, he softly squeezed my thumb before drifting off to sleep.

  FIRST QUARTER MOON, DAY 1

  Again, we are at sea. Caonabó, Manicaotex, and I are proudly dressed in our finest headdresses, strongest belts, and largest golden breastplates. Our warriors have their most agile, Kalina-style bows and arrows, which Caonabó had learned to make from Marahay’s instructions. We also have the metal lightning rods from the dead pale men. We are more than prepared for war.

  It was sad to leave Baba, Bibi, Behechio, and my nephew in Xaraguá. But I am comforted by the thought that I am on a journey that will protect all of Quisqueya’s lands and her people. We are accompanied by at least twenty canoes full of skillful warriors, but there are moments when we lose sight of them when they fall in line behind us, obediently following the currents of the sea. Caonabó and Manicaotex are both quiet, resting for what’s ahead. Their calm comforts me, though occasionally my thoughts float back to Maguana, to my Higuamota. I pray she is well. This is also my prayer for all our people.

  FIRST QUARTER MOON, DAY 3

  How do I begin to describe what I have seen on Marién? We arrived on the shores at dusk. Since it was dark, we anchored our canoes and remained on the beach until dawn.

  At dawn, we began to move inland but were quickly stopped by ten tall, moonfaced men armed with lightning rods. Again these men fired into the air, but as we had already spoken of these things to our fighters, only a few of them fled in fright, cowardly escaping to the sea, where many of them drowned as they attempted to reach their canoes.

  Caonabó, Manicaotex, and I stepped forward to one who seemed to be the leader and offered him all the gold ornaments we were wearing. We even ordered our fighters to accept whatever they were given in exchange for their own ornaments, even their spears.

  As this exchange was taking place, Caonabó pointed inland and spoke Chief Guacanagarí’s name asking where he was. The leader started walking inland and motioned for us to follow him. As we trailed him, his men quickly gathered behind him, stepping between him and our fighters.

  A large group of Chief Guacanagarí’s people lined our path as we entered the village. They were all staring at us with a mixture of fear and hope, as though we were new heroic captives entering our captors’ settlement.

  We walked slowly to Chief Guacanagarí’s house, moving through the enormous plaza out front, which was crowded with more of Guacanagarí’s people. Many of them were roasting meat and preparing food in very large amounts, perhaps for both themselves and their visitors. On my left, I noticed some Marién men hanging from trees near the plaza walls, the bodies dangling above our heads. Caonabó and Manicaotex both stopped and looked up, horrified. I was especially shocked, for the way these men were apparently executed reminded me of the dream I had of being choked by the Kalina serpent god, Joulouca. I couldn’t control the angry shiver running through my body. What could these men have done to deserve a death such as this? To be left in the sun where birds could peck at their open flesh?

  Walking through the plaza, we saw more corpses on the ground. Some looked as though they’d recently had their hands cut off and were still bleeding as they lay unmoving in the soil. I was trembling with anger, but we had to take our time and inform ourselves further before we could do anything. Caonabó and Manicaotex quickly tried to shout some questions to Chief Guacanagarí’s people, but they stared back blankly, looking absolutely dazed as though there was no explanation for what we were seeing.

  Once we crossed the plaza, after that long walk filled with death, we reached Chief Guacanagarí’s house. At his door lay a few of the pale men. Two of them were moaning, their bodies covered with large sores. One of Chief Guacanagarí’s daughters, whom Behechio had once considered for a wife, was tending to the sick ones, giving them water and rubbing leaves over their sores. Most of the pale men looked similar to me, with the same light eyes and heavy body cover that reached from their shoulders down to their toes. But the ones with the sores were thinner and wore little covering and seemed truly distressed as they writhed in pain and screamed what sounded like prayers in their own language, to their own gods.

  The leader motioned for us to stop at Chief Guacanagarí’s doorstep. He exchanged some words with his men and pointed at us. It seemed as if they were asking each other whether they should allow us to enter Chief Guacanagarí’s dwelling.

  Impatient, Caonabó did not wait for them to come to a decision. He called Chief Guacanagarí’s’s name and respectfully requested for him to come out. Chief Guacanagarí tottered out, wobbling on a wounded leg.

  He had fallen, he explained, as though everything else was normal. “And old bones do not heal too quickly.”

  “What is taking place here?” Caonabó asked. “Who are these men?”

  Chief Guacanagarí motioned to a large silk-cotton tree at the side of his house. He signaled that we could sit on a small mat under the tree and talk there. Chief Guacanagarí looked over at the pale leader as though to ask permission for this. The leader nodded. We followed Chief Guacanagarí to the tree, with a group of the pale men trailing us.

  Sitting under the tree, with the pale men standing over us, Chief Guacanagarí quickly told the story of their arrival, much as we had already heard it. These pale men had arrived on three ships. One of the ships had been destroyed by strong winds at sea. Chief Guacanagarí had boarded their ship and welcomed their supreme leader just as he would one of our caciques, offering him gifts of parrots, cotton, and a gold belt. In exchange, their supreme leader had offered him some new food and drink, which he had shared with his men, and some beads and fruitscented water. Chief Guacanagarí had told the supreme leader that he and his people were welcomed in Marién and that he would do all he could to make them at ease. To prove this, Chief Guacanagarí had placed his hand on the supreme leader’s ashy head of hair as a sign of honor and had ordered his people to build them a settlement, farther inland.

  Soon after the supreme leader departed and left these men here in Marién, the men began beating and killing the people of Marién, forcing the women — including his own daughters — to disappear with them at night. Through hand signals, they continually expressed their desire for gold, forcing his people to dig in the mountains and mine the rivers from dusk to dawn.

  When one of the pale men heard Chief Guacanagarí say tuob, the Marién word for gold, he disrespectfully poked his lightning rod at Chief Guacanagarí’s head, thinking, it seemed, that Chief Guacanagarí was discussing with us ways of finding more gold for him and his men.

  Chief Guacanagarí looked up at the pale man and nodded and Caonabó and I did the same so that we would be allowed a few more moments to speak in peace.

  “I believe their leader might have been in my region looking for gold.” Caonabó was purposely trying to use the word gold, and each time he did we looked up at the pale men and they shook their heads and smiled as though their treasures were mounting every time we uttered it.

  “What did you do to him?” Chief Guacanagarí asked.

  “We sent him back where he came from,” Caonabó answered cautiously, for we were still not certain where Chief Guacanagarí’s loyalties truly lay.

  Chief Guacanagarí appeared saddened by this. He covered his face with his hands and moaned for some time.

  “What shall we do now?” Chief Guacanagarí asked in despe
ration. “They are strong and have weapons we do not have. They have already killed many of our people who have tried to fight them. They will not even let us bury them. They want the corpses out in the open as a sign to others. The only thing that can save us is that they seem to not yet understand what we say, except for the word for gold, tuob, which they have already learned.”

  The leader poked his lightning rod at Chief Guacanagarí’s head once more and repeated “tuob.”

  We all nodded and uttered, “Tuob, tuob,” even adding “we will find tuob.”

  “We will appease them until dark,” Caonabó said, “then my people will fight them.”

  Chief Guacanagarí looked frightened, as if fearing the punishment that might follow such an action. He seemed unsure still whether these were men or gods, but whatever they were he feared them.

  “Your people need not take part,” Manicaotex told Chief Guacanagarí. “If there is retribution, you could also say that Caonabó and Manicaotex battled and defeated them.”

  I was glad to see Manicaotex so certain of our victory, but could we really defeat these men? We certainly had more fighters than they did. Many were due to arrive from inland at dusk. And if some of the Marién people joined with us, then we would have even more.

  Chief Guacanagarí appeared not only troubled but tired. Whatever had become of the jovial man who had visited us in Maguana? The one who had held my daughter in his arms and envisioned that one day she might marry one of his sons? I could no longer see any trace of that man. The pale phantoms had taken him away.

  Chief Guacanagarí buried his face in his hands once more. Realizing that he would be of no use to us, Caonabó turned his attention back to the pale men. He got up to face them and pointed to a distant mountain while saying once more the word tuob. Finally the pale men became aware that he was suggesting that there was gold in those mountains and we would get it for them.