![](daniel_novel_photo_small.jpg")
Chapter 2
I felt no pain, just stunned and unable to move There was an awareness of having been helped to a chair. Someone was wiping my face with a damp towel. I was in total darkness and I couldn't see who was doing it, but I guessed it was the woman I'd just met. She was speaking to me softly and gently, as one might to an injured bird who'd fallen from a tree. I understood nothing she said, but her voice was soothing.
There was blood on the towel; I intuited that. The woman paused and moved away. There was the sound of softly splashing water; I guessed she was rinsing the towel, presumably at a pila. A pila is a concrete basin where women wash everything from dishes to clothes; I'd seen these in the private courtyard of almost every building.
So, we were inside a courtyard, under the open sky. I made an effort to look around, but I couldn't see anything at all. It was pitch black. There had been bright sunlight and now all I could see was darkness, like on a moonless night.
The woman resumed wiping my face. She did this very gently, and continued to speak to me as she worked. Other than her voice, all was silent. I tried to remember her name. Chayo. Yes, it was Chayo. Now I could see the vague outline of her face. I was beginning to make out other details around me.
Then I noticed there were also other people in the courtyard, a dozen or more. Indian warriors. Not Aztecs. They were Chichimecas.
I closed my eyes tightly; my eyelids were the only part of my body that functioned. When I opened them again the strange people were gone. But the place was still dark.
Soon they began to reappear. At first vague, wispy creatures, materializing out of the darkness. Slowly they became more distinct. Many held spears, knives or war clubs. They wore loincloths and their faces were painted with designs which enhanced their menacing appearance.
I again closed my eyes, but this time, when I opened them, the Chichimecas were still there. More and more kept appearing, filling up the courtyard. Even after there wasn't room for any more, they still kept on arriving, crowding in around Chayo and me, barely leaving room for us. There must have been well over a hundred, both men and women. Some stood; others sat on the ground. Every one of them was staring at me. Among them sat a large cougar, who was gazing at me with a peculiar look of his own.
It was him, the cougar who'd tripped me on the street outside the door.
This isn't real! I told myself. This can't be real!
The cat was large; his fur was a silvery white which emitted light that illuminated the faces of the people near him and cast their shadows on the walls and on the ground.
Some of the faces appeared benign, others merely curious, but a few looked hostile, even bloodthirsty. Standing next to the cougar was a man with an obsidian-edged war club in his hands and a nasty scowl on his face. He kept feeling the blade with his thumb while he looked at me, perhaps wondering if he could sever my head from my shoulders with a single whack.
On the other side of the cat was a middle-aged woman. People seemed to defer to her, and I sensed that she was in charge. Beside her sat a young girl, her assistant perhaps. The woman spoke, and Chayo responded to her. Then I noticed that even Chayo was dressed like the Chichimecas. The two women spoke briefly, and the young girl toyed with her beads.
The brightly shining fur drew my attention back to the cougar. Was he flicking his tail as cats do when they're about to spring? I couldn't see; too many people were in the way.
I was just very glad to have Chayo near me, though I didn't for an instant believe that any of this was real. Her presence was reassuring. The touch of her hands and the sound of her voice were comforting.
Then the white cougar let out a low growl; all eyes turned to him as he stood and padded towards me. He'd been sitting not more than two meters away from me, but he covered the distance between very slowly and deliberately, in slow motion. He was even larger than I had thought, and seemed to grow in size as he approached. The cougar was accompanied by the man with an obsidian-edged war club.
Just at that moment, Chayo turned away to the pila to rinse the towel once more. I felt alone, terribly alone, and I desperately wished she'd hold my hand.
Everyone watched intently, looking first at the cougar and then at me and then again at the cougar as he approached, with the Chichimeca with the war club at his side.
I held my breath and closed my eyes, this time very, very tightly. I kept them closed for a long time. Then I felt his heavy paw on my knee, and his breath on my face. I kept my eyes closed; I knew this couldn't be real. I was absolutely sure of that.
The Chichimeca began speaking, slowly and very distinctly. I knew his words were addressed to me, and, although I was unsure of what language he was speaking, I seemed to be understanding everything he said.
He told me of an object that had to be returned and where to find it.
There was silence again. The cougar lifted his paw from my knee, and his breath was no longer on my face.
"¿Cómo te sientes?" It was Chayo's voice, loud and clear.
I opened my eyes and then quickly shut them. The sunlight was so intense! I struggled to open them again, and as they gradually adjusted to the brightness, I looked around. I was indeed in a courtyard, sitting next to a pila. The shining cougar was gone. So were the Chichimecas.
And there stood Chayo, dressed as I'd seen her in the shop, wearing a modern-day dress and blouse, with rebozo. Beside her were the head woman and her young assistant, also in modern-day dress. Gone were any vestiges of the costumes they'd been wearing just minutes ago.
"Try standing up," Chayo said.
Thank god for the sunlight! That's all I could think. The brilliant light filled the courtyard and I'd never been so glad of its presence. Even the mundane noise of a vehicle passing in the street was welcome and reassuring. I was overjoyed to have light and sound back. It was like sitting in a dark movie theater watching a horror film and then exiting into an everyday afternoon.
"Try standing up," Chayo repeated. She and the other women helped me to my feet. I felt weak and shaken. I moved my arms slowly and carefully, then my legs. They were numb and stiff, but there was no serious pain or anything.
"Olaf--"
I liked the way she said my name. I vaguely understood that she wanted to put a bandage on, so I sat down again. The cuts and scratches burned slightly as she applied a touch of iodine. She also put some on my hand, where the rooster had pecked me.
I was just so glad for the sun which had ended that horrible darkness. A cougar had been only millimeters from my face. Was that possible? Had it really happened?
"¿Estás bien?"
"¿Qué?" I hadn't heard what she'd said.
"¿Estás bien?" she repeated. She held my hand firmly and our eyes met. Suddenly I felt reassured, as if some power had passed from her to me.
"Sí, estoy bien." To my surprise, my voice sounded reasonably steady.
Having completed the bandages, she told me that lunch was ready and invited me to join them. I wasn't hungry, but I knew that in this society it would be discourteous to refuse, so I accepted. I followed her to a room where her two companions were now setting a table, and she introduced me to them.
I couldn't believe that these were the same women I'd just seen in Chichimecan dress, in the midst of that bizarre gathering. Why were they behaving as though nothing had happened?
"Mi tía Rosario," Chayo said, presenting the older woman as her aunt.
"Doña Rosario," I said. "Mucho gusto en conocerle." Despite everything, I somehow remembered that one should preface a lady's name with "doña."
She responded with an approving smile and warmly complimented me on my proper use of the Spanish language. She might have been about fifty, but was nevertheless attractive. Of course she looked slightly different without her face painted. Her eyes were wise, and she seemed to look into my soul.
"And this is my cousin, Socorro," Chayo said. The girl appeared to be about nine. She smiled shyly as she was introduced, although when she glanced up at me, it was with the same knowing eyes as her aunt, though with less intensity. I wondered what these women might know of what I'd just seen in the courtyard--after all, they were there.
I stumbled through the greetings reasonably well, but then I stood there dumbly, not knowing what to say next. I was unnerved by the entire experience. Chayo showed me to a place at the table and invited me to sit down.
We began to eat, and, to my relief, I discovered that I was hungry. As I ate, I began to feel better.
I kept wondering what had really happened, about those incredible scenes I'd just been through--the war-club-wielding Chichimecas and the shining cougar. I'd been sure all along that I'd been imagining the whole thing, but that didn't make the scariness any less real. Nevertheless, right now I felt okay. Or maybe I didn't feel okay--I wasn't too sure about that. It was more like the trepidation had been put on a shelf.
"Olaf," said the aunt, after a moment of silence, pronouncing my name thoughtfully, "¿Usted es nórdico?"
"¿Nórdico?" I repeated the word carefully, then guessing at the meaning. "Sí, soy nórdico."
The women nodded to each other. Somehow, they'd known that I was Norse, probably because of my name. I was quite impressed that they got it right. So often, people seemed to think I was German or Dutch.
"Un vikingo," chirped Socorro, the nine-year-old.
"Sí." I said, and smiled appreciatively.
Doña Rosario then asked if I were from Europe or from some part of the U.S.
"Minnesota," I replied, and haltingly added that during recent years I'd been in California.
Socorro spoke up again, "Chayo estaba en California."
"¿De veras?" I said.
"Y habla inglés," the girl added, then gave a start, as if she'd been poked in the ribs. She glanced at Chayo, who was shaking her head and frowning. I pretended I hadn't noticed, but if I'd understood rightly, Chayo had lived in California and spoke English. Apparently she didn't want me to know about her English.
The aunt asked me about Minnesota, where I'd lived in California and about my journey down here. She took care to speak slowly, and was very patient with my limited Spanish while I struggled to communicate. Despite my years of studying the language, I'd rarely had a chance to practice speaking it till now. Nevertheless, I was surprised to find myself speaking and understanding it far better than I'd ever been able to before. I seemed to be operating at maximum efficiency.
"Olaf--"
It was Chayo's voice and I looked up from my thoughts. She was asking me again if I were okay. I forced a smile and assured her that I was fine.
We spoke for some time. Chayo listened attentively, leaving the talking to her aunt Rosario. For the most part, Socorro ate in silence with eyes glued to her plate, but her inquisitive glance darted up from time to time, always with the same piercing eyes she shared with her aunt and cousin.
There was nothing they said which expressly indicated that they'd been expecting me. Yet something gave me a feeling that they'd known I was coming. Their voices sounded muted, as if there were an invisible wall between us.
I heard the girl's voice saying that I seemed to be lost in thought.
"Pobrecito, está muy cansado," said doña Rosario.
A wave of drowsiness passed over me and I suddenly did feel tired, perhaps from the intense concentration it took to speak in an unfamiliar language, perhaps from the ordeal in the courtyard.
I got to my feet and tried to clear my head so I could tell them I had to go. It took a moment before the words came to me, "Tengo que irme."
"Siéntate." Chayo urged me to sit down. "Do you feel any pain?" she asked. I thought she said that in English, but I was so tired I wasn't really sure which language she'd used. It was hard to keep my bleary eyes focused.
"No, no." I objected. "I'm just very sleepy, that's all. Tengo que irme."
"Then let me call you a taxi," she said, and again I declined and at the same time grasped the back of a chair to steady myself.
She asked me at which hotel I was staying, and I vaguely recalled seeing one across the street from the bus depot. I told her I was planning to stay there. She asked me if I could find my way back, and when I hesitated, she told me to wait a moment.
I slumped into the chair and hardly realized she'd been gone till she re-entered the room with a boy of about ten whom she introduced as Panchito. "He'll show you the way," she said, as she accompanied me to the door.
continued in Chapter 3
There was blood on the towel; I intuited that. The woman paused and moved away. There was the sound of softly splashing water; I guessed she was rinsing the towel, presumably at a pila. A pila is a concrete basin where women wash everything from dishes to clothes; I'd seen these in the private courtyard of almost every building.
So, we were inside a courtyard, under the open sky. I made an effort to look around, but I couldn't see anything at all. It was pitch black. There had been bright sunlight and now all I could see was darkness, like on a moonless night.
The woman resumed wiping my face. She did this very gently, and continued to speak to me as she worked. Other than her voice, all was silent. I tried to remember her name. Chayo. Yes, it was Chayo. Now I could see the vague outline of her face. I was beginning to make out other details around me.
Then I noticed there were also other people in the courtyard, a dozen or more. Indian warriors. Not Aztecs. They were Chichimecas.
I closed my eyes tightly; my eyelids were the only part of my body that functioned. When I opened them again the strange people were gone. But the place was still dark.
Soon they began to reappear. At first vague, wispy creatures, materializing out of the darkness. Slowly they became more distinct. Many held spears, knives or war clubs. They wore loincloths and their faces were painted with designs which enhanced their menacing appearance.
I again closed my eyes, but this time, when I opened them, the Chichimecas were still there. More and more kept appearing, filling up the courtyard. Even after there wasn't room for any more, they still kept on arriving, crowding in around Chayo and me, barely leaving room for us. There must have been well over a hundred, both men and women. Some stood; others sat on the ground. Every one of them was staring at me. Among them sat a large cougar, who was gazing at me with a peculiar look of his own.
It was him, the cougar who'd tripped me on the street outside the door.
This isn't real! I told myself. This can't be real!
The cat was large; his fur was a silvery white which emitted light that illuminated the faces of the people near him and cast their shadows on the walls and on the ground.
Some of the faces appeared benign, others merely curious, but a few looked hostile, even bloodthirsty. Standing next to the cougar was a man with an obsidian-edged war club in his hands and a nasty scowl on his face. He kept feeling the blade with his thumb while he looked at me, perhaps wondering if he could sever my head from my shoulders with a single whack.
On the other side of the cat was a middle-aged woman. People seemed to defer to her, and I sensed that she was in charge. Beside her sat a young girl, her assistant perhaps. The woman spoke, and Chayo responded to her. Then I noticed that even Chayo was dressed like the Chichimecas. The two women spoke briefly, and the young girl toyed with her beads.
The brightly shining fur drew my attention back to the cougar. Was he flicking his tail as cats do when they're about to spring? I couldn't see; too many people were in the way.
I was just very glad to have Chayo near me, though I didn't for an instant believe that any of this was real. Her presence was reassuring. The touch of her hands and the sound of her voice were comforting.
Then the white cougar let out a low growl; all eyes turned to him as he stood and padded towards me. He'd been sitting not more than two meters away from me, but he covered the distance between very slowly and deliberately, in slow motion. He was even larger than I had thought, and seemed to grow in size as he approached. The cougar was accompanied by the man with an obsidian-edged war club.
Just at that moment, Chayo turned away to the pila to rinse the towel once more. I felt alone, terribly alone, and I desperately wished she'd hold my hand.
Everyone watched intently, looking first at the cougar and then at me and then again at the cougar as he approached, with the Chichimeca with the war club at his side.
I held my breath and closed my eyes, this time very, very tightly. I kept them closed for a long time. Then I felt his heavy paw on my knee, and his breath on my face. I kept my eyes closed; I knew this couldn't be real. I was absolutely sure of that.
The Chichimeca began speaking, slowly and very distinctly. I knew his words were addressed to me, and, although I was unsure of what language he was speaking, I seemed to be understanding everything he said.
He told me of an object that had to be returned and where to find it.
There was silence again. The cougar lifted his paw from my knee, and his breath was no longer on my face.
"¿Cómo te sientes?" It was Chayo's voice, loud and clear.
I opened my eyes and then quickly shut them. The sunlight was so intense! I struggled to open them again, and as they gradually adjusted to the brightness, I looked around. I was indeed in a courtyard, sitting next to a pila. The shining cougar was gone. So were the Chichimecas.
And there stood Chayo, dressed as I'd seen her in the shop, wearing a modern-day dress and blouse, with rebozo. Beside her were the head woman and her young assistant, also in modern-day dress. Gone were any vestiges of the costumes they'd been wearing just minutes ago.
"Try standing up," Chayo said.
Thank god for the sunlight! That's all I could think. The brilliant light filled the courtyard and I'd never been so glad of its presence. Even the mundane noise of a vehicle passing in the street was welcome and reassuring. I was overjoyed to have light and sound back. It was like sitting in a dark movie theater watching a horror film and then exiting into an everyday afternoon.
"Try standing up," Chayo repeated. She and the other women helped me to my feet. I felt weak and shaken. I moved my arms slowly and carefully, then my legs. They were numb and stiff, but there was no serious pain or anything.
"Olaf--"
I liked the way she said my name. I vaguely understood that she wanted to put a bandage on, so I sat down again. The cuts and scratches burned slightly as she applied a touch of iodine. She also put some on my hand, where the rooster had pecked me.
I was just so glad for the sun which had ended that horrible darkness. A cougar had been only millimeters from my face. Was that possible? Had it really happened?
"¿Estás bien?"
"¿Qué?" I hadn't heard what she'd said.
"¿Estás bien?" she repeated. She held my hand firmly and our eyes met. Suddenly I felt reassured, as if some power had passed from her to me.
"Sí, estoy bien." To my surprise, my voice sounded reasonably steady.
Having completed the bandages, she told me that lunch was ready and invited me to join them. I wasn't hungry, but I knew that in this society it would be discourteous to refuse, so I accepted. I followed her to a room where her two companions were now setting a table, and she introduced me to them.
I couldn't believe that these were the same women I'd just seen in Chichimecan dress, in the midst of that bizarre gathering. Why were they behaving as though nothing had happened?
"Mi tía Rosario," Chayo said, presenting the older woman as her aunt.
"Doña Rosario," I said. "Mucho gusto en conocerle." Despite everything, I somehow remembered that one should preface a lady's name with "doña."
She responded with an approving smile and warmly complimented me on my proper use of the Spanish language. She might have been about fifty, but was nevertheless attractive. Of course she looked slightly different without her face painted. Her eyes were wise, and she seemed to look into my soul.
"And this is my cousin, Socorro," Chayo said. The girl appeared to be about nine. She smiled shyly as she was introduced, although when she glanced up at me, it was with the same knowing eyes as her aunt, though with less intensity. I wondered what these women might know of what I'd just seen in the courtyard--after all, they were there.
I stumbled through the greetings reasonably well, but then I stood there dumbly, not knowing what to say next. I was unnerved by the entire experience. Chayo showed me to a place at the table and invited me to sit down.
We began to eat, and, to my relief, I discovered that I was hungry. As I ate, I began to feel better.
I kept wondering what had really happened, about those incredible scenes I'd just been through--the war-club-wielding Chichimecas and the shining cougar. I'd been sure all along that I'd been imagining the whole thing, but that didn't make the scariness any less real. Nevertheless, right now I felt okay. Or maybe I didn't feel okay--I wasn't too sure about that. It was more like the trepidation had been put on a shelf.
"Olaf," said the aunt, after a moment of silence, pronouncing my name thoughtfully, "¿Usted es nórdico?"
"¿Nórdico?" I repeated the word carefully, then guessing at the meaning. "Sí, soy nórdico."
The women nodded to each other. Somehow, they'd known that I was Norse, probably because of my name. I was quite impressed that they got it right. So often, people seemed to think I was German or Dutch.
"Un vikingo," chirped Socorro, the nine-year-old.
"Sí." I said, and smiled appreciatively.
Doña Rosario then asked if I were from Europe or from some part of the U.S.
"Minnesota," I replied, and haltingly added that during recent years I'd been in California.
Socorro spoke up again, "Chayo estaba en California."
"¿De veras?" I said.
"Y habla inglés," the girl added, then gave a start, as if she'd been poked in the ribs. She glanced at Chayo, who was shaking her head and frowning. I pretended I hadn't noticed, but if I'd understood rightly, Chayo had lived in California and spoke English. Apparently she didn't want me to know about her English.
The aunt asked me about Minnesota, where I'd lived in California and about my journey down here. She took care to speak slowly, and was very patient with my limited Spanish while I struggled to communicate. Despite my years of studying the language, I'd rarely had a chance to practice speaking it till now. Nevertheless, I was surprised to find myself speaking and understanding it far better than I'd ever been able to before. I seemed to be operating at maximum efficiency.
"Olaf--"
It was Chayo's voice and I looked up from my thoughts. She was asking me again if I were okay. I forced a smile and assured her that I was fine.
We spoke for some time. Chayo listened attentively, leaving the talking to her aunt Rosario. For the most part, Socorro ate in silence with eyes glued to her plate, but her inquisitive glance darted up from time to time, always with the same piercing eyes she shared with her aunt and cousin.
There was nothing they said which expressly indicated that they'd been expecting me. Yet something gave me a feeling that they'd known I was coming. Their voices sounded muted, as if there were an invisible wall between us.
I heard the girl's voice saying that I seemed to be lost in thought.
"Pobrecito, está muy cansado," said doña Rosario.
A wave of drowsiness passed over me and I suddenly did feel tired, perhaps from the intense concentration it took to speak in an unfamiliar language, perhaps from the ordeal in the courtyard.
I got to my feet and tried to clear my head so I could tell them I had to go. It took a moment before the words came to me, "Tengo que irme."
"Siéntate." Chayo urged me to sit down. "Do you feel any pain?" she asked. I thought she said that in English, but I was so tired I wasn't really sure which language she'd used. It was hard to keep my bleary eyes focused.
"No, no." I objected. "I'm just very sleepy, that's all. Tengo que irme."
"Then let me call you a taxi," she said, and again I declined and at the same time grasped the back of a chair to steady myself.
She asked me at which hotel I was staying, and I vaguely recalled seeing one across the street from the bus depot. I told her I was planning to stay there. She asked me if I could find my way back, and when I hesitated, she told me to wait a moment.
I slumped into the chair and hardly realized she'd been gone till she re-entered the room with a boy of about ten whom she introduced as Panchito. "He'll show you the way," she said, as she accompanied me to the door.
continued in Chapter 3
<< Home