The Empty Hammock

by Barrett, Brenda

  “What do you dream Ana, my flower? Do not mind Tanama, she was born to be in your shadow,” a kindly female whispered beside her as Ana stood stunned.

  She had a sister? She looked over at the girl in question, she was copper-toned, her legs were long and graceful, her breasts high and her waist trim. Her waist length hair hung loose down her back and dabs of paint could be seen on her body.

  There were so many questions she wanted to ask. Was she in another Ana’s body? She had parents, a sister and now a husband-to-be.

  What year was this anyway?

  “I am not who you think I am.” Ana looked at the bunch of women gathered around her. They were of different skin tones, their facial features distinct.

  She always thought all Arawaks looked the same, lumped together in her history book as a short and muscular people with copper-toned skin.

  Tanama growled in her throat, jealousy stamped on her face. “You should tell that to Orocobix, I have been trying to convince him of that since your thirteenth summer.”

  “Tanama stop it,” an older looking woman pronounced. She had on a bright red skirt that ended mid thigh with shells mixed with chunks of gold along her top and in her hair. “My son, the chief has spoken. He wants Ana. Come, girl,” she said, holding up her hand as Ana opened her mouth.

  “No more dawdling. We have three moons to prepare you for the joining. All the unmarried women please leave.”

  About five females, including Tanama left the clearing. Their naked bodies disappeared above the incline as they headed back to the village. Three women remained, the woman who identified herself as Orocobix’s mother, the one who dragged her to the site and the one who called her ‘my flower’.

  “I am Basila, your grandmother.” The gentle woman gazed in her eyes. “I knew this day would come. The Behique told me it would. The other women are Farisa,” she said, pointing to Orocobix’s mother. “And Antia. She’s my daughter.”

  Ana looked deeply at the older woman and felt safe. “You know that which day would come?”

  “The day of your joining to Orocobix, what else?” Farisa and Antia glanced at each other.

  “Ladies give me a moment with my granddaughter.” The women nodded and walked toward the stream.

  “What is happening to me?”

  “Who am I, Basila?” Ana asked earnestly.

  You are Ana.” Basila looked at her knowingly. “The great prophet Guacanagari had a great vision of birds with large white wings, gliding against the sea. What does it mean?”

  “Tell me who I am first, one second I was sleeping in my present world and the next, I am here.”

  “You are Ana, you are my granddaughter.”

  “I can’t be. I am from a different time.”

  “When you go back to dream, Ana will still be here,” Basila said and looked at her wisely.

  “I don’t understand,” Ana said desperately. “What is this magic? Sci-fi? The twilight zone?”

  “You speak a different language.” Basila looked at her curiously.

  “Well there are some words that are not in Taino,” Ana said exasperatedly.

  Basila nodded and then grasped Ana’s hand. “Tell me.” Her eyes were urgent.

  “Well the great white birds are called ships.”

  Basila tested the words. “Ships…go on.”

  “They carry men that do not look like you or me. These men will be here for caona -gold and other precious stones.”

  Basila sighed. “These ships how can they carry men?”

  “They are like a large canoe with wings. The men are pale of skin, like cassava juice.” Ana looked at Basila, “whatever happens, do not trust them when they get here. Never.”

  Basila nodded, tears in her eyes. “What will happen to us?”

  “Many things, Basila. Unspeakable things. Only time can tell.”

  Unless of course, we plan to stop them, she thought quietly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Juan Perez was in awe; there really was a new world. They had traveled for twenty-one days before they saw an island. It looked deserted of people but lush with greenery and fresh water.

  “I think mangoes will do well in this soil,” he had told Colón as he gazed at the dark, rich earth before him.

  They had passed a rugged island which they had sighted in the midday sun; its hilly interior and rocky outer face giving it a shabby appearance from sea.

  Colón had named the place Santo Domingo being that the day was Sunday. They could not dock there, so they had explored the interior of what Colón had called Santa Maria de Guadalupe; the mountains in the distance were tinged with a bluish cast.

  The air was refreshingly pure. So much so, that Juan felt he was in danger of becoming a poet.

  The natives were scantily clad; some of them had on no clothes at all. The women were voluptuous and seemed to have no qualms to showing the men their womanly bounties.

  For the six days, which they spent on Guadalupe, the men just picked the women they wanted to be with and would sleep in whatever accommodating village they could find.

  Sometimes out in the wild, in the unique string contraption, that the natives called a hammock. It took a while for him to get used to the bed hanging in the air, but he had come to love it and received a few of them from one of the natives.

  Juan was doubtful of the entertainments at first. He was very picky of his companions but after being at sea for many weeks the naked beauty of the natives got to him.

  The women were beautiful, in an exotic kind of way; their honey toned skins and full lips were uniquely enticing. He chose one that seemed a little more mature than most and taught her how to please him.

  The native men did not seem to mind when the men chose the women that were not married. At times they offered their best beauties to the men who had docked on the island.

  The chief of the village of Guadeloupe offered Colón one of his hammocks and a woman from his household. The explorer had fun being treated like a god by the native men.

  Juan sometimes cringed inwardly at the natives’ eagerness to please. They were so naïve in their approach and absolutely guileless, he found this faintly sickening.

  He often wondered what questions his female companion had about him and why they had appeared so suddenly in her world.

  He followed Colón as he went around from island to island, naming them in honor of Spain. Sometimes they would dock, at other times, they would not.

  Sometimes the Indians that they saw, would run and hide, and in one instance they found women tied to trees and emaciated. They told stories of being captured from their villages by a man-eating tribe. When the men of the tribe heard their approach they had left the hapless women behind.

  The thought of men eating the flesh of other men made Juan slightly sick, and he could barely face the native people for days. The sickening practice was just too much for him.

  After a few days, he was beginning to tell them apart. The man-eating tribes were heavily scarred with tattoos across their skin; they bore their noses and had long lengths of fish bone in their ears. The gentle ones were pure of skin and would merely paint their bodies.

  “Juan, why are you so pensive?” Pablo, his captain, asked him after they had sailed from one island to the other.

  Juan pointed to his treasure chest. “I see no abundance of gold here. It feels wrong to take the precious metal from the natives; I want to know the source; where they get it from.”

  Pablo nodded. “I would also like to know; they do not seem to mind us having them, they put much more value on our items of clothing and glass beads. The women are beautiful though, and so willing. I took mine on board with me, she’s like precious gold.” He laughed and rubbed his crotch.

  Juan frowned. He had not thought to carry his native girl on board; he had found no connection there. He was frustrated that they couldn't communicate, and such docility bothered him. It’s as if she thought she was a sacrifice to him.

  He h
ad enough of that in Isabella’s court. He would take another one, from some other island, when his body needed to be satiated again. But to have her follow him around would be too much.

  “This is paradise,” Pablo said, breaking him out of his reverie. “Mostly unspoiled. I would probably give up my life at sea and live here. Look at all of that greenery and the stark blue of the skies. And with the gold we will find, I think we can kiss Spain goodbye.”

  Juan gave him a half-smile; he was not so sure that he could live in this place, as beautiful as it was.

  Besides, he was feeling a bit home sick for Spain. After they discovered the gold, he would see if he shared Pablo’s sentiments and desire to settle on the island.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Orocobix went into the house of the Behique, the medicine man of the village.

  “What troubles you?” the wizened Behique asked, looking at the village chief and smiling. “You will be joined in three moons. You should be happy. The villagers are preparing a huge feast.”

  “She does not want to be joined with me. I can see it in her eyes.” Orocobix looked at his spiritual guide and sighed.

  As a young man in his father’s household, and the first son of the first wife, he was tutored exclusively by the Behique, for many cycles of the sun. After his father’s death he became Chief of his people but he still turned to the Behique for advice.

  “Do not be afraid, Ana will come around,” the Behique looked at the crooked clay pot at his feet and whistled quietly. The leaves in the pot stirred gently.

  “Who would not want to be joined with the Chief of the village, a strong noble man such as yourself?”

  Orocobix fingered the feather that was attached to his plaited lock of hair, “I have not felt so much frustration since the Caribs invaded Maima.”

  “Maima has not been invaded for years Orocobix, you have too much of a warrior’s heart, let it rest, we are some ways from Maima now.”

  “I could never understand the raw hatred of that people toward us.” He stopped speaking as a servant girl bowed slightly and offered him a calabash with roasted iguana.

  He bowed in return and washed his hands in the bowl another servant carried.

  “This is good Behique,” Orocobix said, chewing the succulent flesh of the lizard, “Mira must be of Ciboney descent. Probably I should have joined with her before Hulan staked his claim.”

  Orocobix ate in silence, as was the custom of his people. He was happy that his grandfather had moved his family from Maima, one of the largest villages on the island. He still had nightmares of the Caribs—their fierce facial expressions and weapons—when they attacked Maima when he was a little boy.

  They had taken his sister and some of the other women and killed some male members from his father’s house. The pain had been too much for his father, so he moved his family to the spot that they now christened Bieke - ‘Small Land’.

  The land was close to the sea and they could both fish and plant cassava and other foods. It was a good spot, and now it was his to command. He inherited the title of Cacique after his father’s death; the other elders of the tribe were pleased with him.

  Ana was always his first choice for a wife; he had loved her as a boy, when they hunted shells together and played in the sea. After her first monthly flow, he had received permission from her mother to court her.

  He would probably take another wife, because he wanted many sons, but she would be the only one in his heart. He placed the bowl on the floor and a servant appeared to take it away. He washed his hands in the sweet herbal water that was placed before him.

  “I was thinking that I would take Ana to Maima, some of her family members are there, we could be gone for many moons—I want the time alone with her.”

  The Behique nodded. “Your people will be in good hands. The elders will be careful to follow in your footsteps.”

  Orocobix looked at the Behique closely, “something is bothering you I can tell. Was it a vision?”

  “I have many visions, Chief.”

  “What bothers you then?” Orocobix insisted.

  “The vision that bothers me is not mine. It is the vision of Cacique Guacanagari; he saw the coming of strange creatures on the sea with men inside them.”

  “He has had that vision for years,” Orocobix scoffed. “They are not Caribs, why should we be afraid?”

  “But they were like gods. It’s as if Yocahu, the chief God, had descended from the sky. The day is finally coming, when Yocahu will come for us.”

  “I have heard that since I was a boy hunting coneys, and Yocahu has not come.”

  “But this time he will, Guacanagari told his messengers, who came from Bohio last moon, that the day is soon upon us.”

  Orocobix stood up, his tall frame almost reaching the rafters of the house. “Yocahu be with you my friend. I am not alarmed. If Yocahu comes, then we will all live in peace, even the Caribs.”

  The Behique nodded his eyes thoughtful.

  ******

  “She has been sleeping like one dead,” Clara mumbled to Carey. “I thought she really wanted to see what was in the treasure chest. It’s not like her to give up and just sleep like that.”

  “Well she has not been sleeping properly for ages,” Carey said, “let’s not wake her. Let us allow her to get as much rest as she can. Poor thing, she worked like a demon to get the promotion and when she finally got it they worked her to this.”

  Clara sniffed, “the welder said he won’t be here until three days time. I want to see what is in that box so bad.”

  “We could always take it into town,” Carey said, “when Ana wakes up she would get the surprise of her life.”

  “I am not sharing the treasure with anyone else,” Clara insisted. “If the welder can’t come here, then we will have to try and open it some other way.”

  Carey nodded, “I feel like taking a nap myself. I will just sleep out here since Ana snagged the prized spot,” he glanced at the still form of his sister under the palm tree.

  “I will just go into the basement and start some sorting of your father’s things—I intend to have that bonfire.”

  Clara went through the kitchen and turned on the basement light before walking downstairs. The basement represented everything that was lost to her. She could not face the pain of sorting through her husband’s artifacts and obsession, so she had asked Ana, even though she knew, deep down, that she would have to be the one to do it.

  She had to finally bury the anger that she felt toward his work and her certainty that it contributed to his demise; he died a broken man, speaking gibberish. The noble professor, swept away by an obsession. Her children were here; she could face the task. She took a deep breath and descended the stairs.

  When they were building the house, her husband had wanted a place to store all his historical paraphernalia. It was a huge space spanning about half the size of their 3,000 sq. ft home. It was tiled and had small windows, which were covered with her rose bushes. Toward the end of his life, her husband would spend days in the same spot, tapping on his computer and mumbling weird things.

  He had boxes and boxes of research and Clara just wanted to clear them out. Maybe she could remove some of her roses so that the place could be better lit, modernize the bathroom and rent out the space. When her children were not home she could do well with some company.

  She headed to the box that was marked ‘family tree’ and took it from the stack. Probably Ana would like to look through this before she dumped it.

  She started sorting through the papers, her heart hurting as she thought of all the time her husband had wasted on his Taino research when he could have spent more time with her. Life was just too short for such foolishness.

  ******

  The heat that the fire in the middle of the hut generated was causing Ana to be a little dizzy, the pungent scent of the herbs was lulling her to sleep.

  This was the third day of preparations, yesterday they rubbed her all ove
r with river sand, the coarse grains were mixed with a fragrant herb and then she was washed with warm water.

  Next her hair was braided; the long curly strands that she had known all her life were now straight and hung way past her shoulders. She had looked in the river and almost screamed, she resembled the person in the water only faintly, her nose was broader, her eyes sloe-shaped and chocolate brown, and her forehead was flattened.

  She looked like the rest of the people she was seeing in the strange world of the Tainos.

  “It is time for your final purification,” Basila said to Ana stepping into the hut. “As the shadows fall you will be given to the Chief.”

  Ana got up from the stool and followed Basila outside to the stream, Farisa and Antia had clay bowls filled with a gooey looking mixture, one was red and the other yellow.

  They beckoned to Ana and she stood in front of them, they started to paint with their fingers, intricate patterns over her breasts and her navel.

  Ana felt drugged.

  Was this an alternate reality? Yesterday, she kept pinching herself to confirm that what she was seeing was real.

  Skin and flesh surely couldn’t be so real to the touch, the silky shaft of her hair, pain from a mosquito bite.

  This was unlike any dream she had before. It was too real, and it dawned on her that she was going to be married tonight, to a man she didn't know.

  This would give a psychiatrist hours of consultation time, she grinned slightly. They might even tell her she was delusional and her subconscious was bringing up her insecurities. Probably that was what they had told her father.

  The women finished their painting and Ana wondered why they weren't friendlier towards her. Basila seemed to be the only one who was warm; everyone else had an unsociable attitude. They only spoke politely to her when they had to; it was as if they were afraid to get any closer to her.

  Ana decided to test the waters with Farisa, her prospective mother-in-law.

  “Farisa why are we not friends?” Ana asked the woman.

  Farisa’s warm brown eyes grew chilly and she sniffed, “I do not like my son’s choice of a bride. I wanted him to marry Tanama. You are too dreamy and unsteady, your hips are not child-bearing hips and you cannot cook.”