Anacaona

by Edwidge Danticat

  FULL MOON, DAY 14

  From sunrise to sunset, no rain, just sunshine. Matunherí ordered a corn feast to celebrate the harvest and our being spared from the hurricane. All we ate was corn. Much of it was picked while still tender, so we ate the kernels raw. Older kernels were roasted or boiled or mashed into a powder. More corn was soaked in water and made into corn bread. We sang our elders’ ballads about corn and told our elders’ stories of past harvests that were nearly destroyed by rains but spared in the end.

  Many of our villagers came to the feast to wish my uncle well. Yeybona and Piragua came, too, with their son. Nahe has grown so much and he is already walking. Yeybona tells me he is also a wonderful swimmer. With my uncle’s illness and all my extra duties, I have not seen Yeybona, Piragua, and Nahe in some time. I hope to soon go fishing with Piragua, and swimming with Yeybona and Nahe. But first my uncle must get well.

  FULL MOON, DAY 15

  Behechio’s way of celebrating the saved corn harvest is to choose three more women who he will eventually make his wives. (Matunherí now allows him to choose his own wives since Yaruba died.) Soon he will have seven wives, almost as many as my uncle. For a long time, he had not wanted to change the number since Yaruba died.

  Baba and Bibi have gone back to working with the servant carvers on the mortars and pestles trade. Bibi and I made some necklaces and bracelets with which to greet Behechio’s new wives when they arrive.

  LAST QUARTER MOON, DAY 16

  We had a storm last night, a sudden and quick one.

  The rain fell like large rock pellets and the winds were so powerful that they uprooted all the trees in my uncle’s courtyard and blew away all the surrounding houses. I was so frightened, I could barely breathe. There is nothing more terrible than a disaster you can do nothing about, no matter how powerful or clever you are. On the contrary, all these things seem to work against you as you become motionless and helpless, the prey of nature’s angry gods.

  During the storm, we all gathered in Matunherí’s house — the strongest house in Xaraguá. Matunherí’s wives, Behechio and his wives, Bibi and Baba, and all the servants whose houses had already been destroyed by the winds were grateful to be under my uncle’s protection.

  The house swayed back and forth, so much that we thought it was going to be lifted off the ground. Fortunately, it withstood the rains, even though the winds blew away several layers of the thatch roof, resulting in water dripping in. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the storm stopped, or moved on, as Matunherí said, to somewhere else.

  It was still dark when the winds and the rain died down, so none of us ventured outside to examine the damage, but I knew, as all of us knew, that the destruction was vast.

  LAST QUARTER MOON, DAY 17

  As soon as the sun came up, Behechio and I accompanied Matunherí to the villages to inspect the ravages of the storm. The ground was still muddy and soaked and many of the fields were buried under overflowing rivers. As we had suspected, many trees had fallen and several houses had been blown away. We don’t know yet how many of our people have died, but a small group has already gathered around Matunherí’s house to ask if their loved ones have been seen, alive or dead.

  LAST QUARTER MOON, DAY 18

  The dead are too many to count. The villagers continue to gather the bodies in the plaza facing the prayer house. A mountain of corpses is slowly forming: men, women, and children, servants, planters, growers, healers, fishermen, fighters, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters.

  The higher ranking among the dead will be buried in caves. The other bodies will have to be burned, Matunherí says, to prevent the spread of illness. The ground is too soaked for us to bury them and the type of burial ground needed for so many would be much too difficult to dig now. Besides, there is no time for ceremony. The sky is overcast again, indicating more rain might come.

  This is one of those moments that I do not envy Matunherí’s position. I don’t know how he keeps himself from crying. I myself cannot stop crying. In the pile are many people I know. Some are childhood playmates. Others have trained with us to defend ourselves from the Kalinas. How could the heavens have claimed them in this harsh and painful way?

  Matunherí’s weaver, Cuybio, brought us the worst news yet. Yeybona and Piragua and their son, Nahe, have perished. Their bodies were found in the remnants of their house.

  Cuybio did not bring them to the courtyard, fearing they would be burned with the others. Instead he had already taken them to the sea and put them to rest there, beneath the waves.

  I say this, among many other prayers, under my breath: Yeybona and Piragua, who had so loved the sea, Nahe, who had been named for things of the sea, may your spirits be elated there. Attabeira, goddess of our rivers and all our waterways, these beings, so loved, have been placed in your bosom. Please offer them more favor than had been granted to them here, in the life they have just left.

  LAST QUARTER MOON, DAY 19

  Bodies burn at dawn,

  Tower of flesh,

  Blinding smoke

  Blending with clouds.

  We, the people of the ground,

  And you, the people of the sky,

  Are even more allied now

  By this thread of smoke

  Arriving your way.

  We send them now,

  These pillars of our lives,

  To join with you

  Not as sacrifices

  For our transgressions

  Nor as spare souls

  For which we lacked space,

  But we send them to you

  Because you have already claimed them

  With your windy embrace.

  Look after them,

  And look after them well,

  For we will miss them

  Long after this heap of flesh

  Turns to ashes,

  Long after this smoke

  Vanishes into air.

  We will remember them,

  But we will also remember

  That they are with you,

  And each time you send us an embrace,

  Tender or fierce,

  We will remember

  That they are embracing us, too.

  LAST QUARTER MOON, DAY 20

  The servants have cleared the remnants of the funeral pyre. It seems we have seen the last of the dead. The seas are calm. The sun has returned.

  Matunherí is still ill, spending his days lying in his hammock with his healers around him. Behechio, Bibi, Baba, and I, Matunherí’s wives, and many of the subchiefs sit all morning outside his house, waiting for his fate to be decided by forces beyond ourselves.

  We were on this solemn watch and I was remembering our recent dead when I looked up at the patch of blue sky immediately above our heads and saw that it was covered with birds. They were large, majestic birds, coated in feathers with more colors than the rainbow itself. These birds seemed to be forming a design. A circle, two circles? I was not sure.

  And then I stood up to have a closer look and I recognized the birds. They were the same type of bird that Chief Caonabó had given me after my haircutting ceremony, the ones I had released from the cage and let fly away.

  Now Behechio, Bibi, Baba, and Matunherí’s wives were also looking up at the sky, admiring the birds.

  “They are a good omen,” Guamayto, Matunherí’s first and favorite wife, said.

  “We should tell the servants to bring them down with bows and arrows,” Behechio said. “We need their meat.”

  “They look spectacular against the indigo sky,” Bibi said, “like a colorful blanket.”

  “They are Chief Caonabó’s birds,” Baba said. These birds are only to be found in Maguana. Chief Caonabó originated the species by breeding different types of birds so he could have singular feathers for his headdress.

  “Why would Chief Caonabó have sent his birds to cloak our skies like that?” Baba asked. He was looking at me, smiling. So were Bibi and Behechio.

  “What
an extravagant man!” Behechio said, as if annoyed by such an immoderate display.

  “This is how he announces his visits,” Baba said. “This means that he will soon be coming to see us.”

  “We will need him,” I said, trying to pace my speech so that it would not betray how exhilarated I felt. “He can help us with provisions until the next harvest.”

  “If he is allied with us in any way,” Behechio said, as though he were already the supreme chief of Xaraguá, “then we will have the two most powerful regions in Quisqueya. Let him come, though we will not receive him as beggars but as equals.”

  At that moment, I realized it was Behechio and not I who would rule Xaraguá. In my mind, I surrendered sole authority to him, just as I would something I was holding in the palm of my hand. Xaraguá was now Behechio’s to rule, not mine. And I was glad it was I who had made that decision, not him nor Matunherí. My future was with these birds.

  FIRST QUARTER MOON, DAY 1

  I call this the sunny season. It is my own special season, the period after a storm when everything begins to mend itself under the sun’s watchful glow. It is a time when the ground smells fresh and new, as though it had been washed and scrubbed by the rains. It is a moment when the overturned soil is slowly beginning to find roots once again. It is a season when the sun remains out from dawn to dusk, and only disappears at the very final moment, when it is to be replaced by the moon.

  Chief Caonabó’s birds have disappeared from the skies, yet still he has not come. Behechio and I told Matunherí about the birds, but he showed no emotion as he lay in his hammock, staring up at his thatch roof. I couldn’t help but fantasize that Matunherí was trying to look beyond the thatch, perhaps to envision the birds. I wish so much he had seen them.

  FIRST QUARTER MOON, DAY 2

  Behechio and I again brought up the matter of Chief Caonabó’s possible visit with my uncle. Matunherí replied that as far as he was concerned, Chief Caonabó had not officially announced his visit because he hadn’t sent proper messengers to ask if we would receive him. The birds were merely a diversion, a strange sort of amusement, Matunherí said. If Chief Caonabó did not announce his arrival in the usual fashion, he would not be received in the usual fashion, either.

  In spite of what he said about not receiving Chief Caonabó well, Matunherí ordered that the plaza be cleaned and the houses that had been destroyed by the storm be rebuilt. The fallen trees were cleared out and now the village looks no worse for having suffered through the storm.

  It seems Matunherí has decided that Chief Caonabó should not see him ill. He has made a special effort to get out of his hammock and stroll around the courtyard with help from his wives, especially Guamayto, who is always at his side.

  FIRST QUARTER MOON, DAY 3

  Chief Caonabó’s messengers have arrived. They announced that Chief Caonabó was set to leave Maguana soon after they did and we should expect him.

  Matunherí was not too pleased that Chief Caonabó was already on his way. He would have liked to have given the messengers word of his approval for the visit to carry back to Maguana.

  FIRST QUARTER MOON, DAY 4

  We are still waiting for Chief Caonabó. Even though everyone appears to be aware of the purpose of his visit, I am doing my best to act as though his coming to Xaraguá is no concern of mine.

  I go about all my activities as usual and when I want to go to the beach to watch for his ship, I pretend that I am going to the bluff to sit at the mouth of Yaruba’s cave.

  I hope Yaruba will forgive me this ruse. Somehow I think she would. It is beneath my stature to act in this manner. My grandmother would have never acted this way. But I am very anxious and cannot help myself.

  A riddle with a painful answer:

  What if Chief Caonabó’s visit does not concern me at all?

  FIRST QUARTER MOON, DAY 5

  Matunherí’s health is showing some improvement again. It seems now that this is how he is meant to live the rest of his days, swinging unpredictably between sickness and health.

  Maybe Chief Caonabó has changed his mind and is not coming after all. His messengers are still here, waiting for him to arrive. Because the messengers are here with us, observing everything, which they might later report to Chief Caonabó, Matunherí makes a special effort to go about his duties, as if he were well. Still, the sight of these men irritates him. What’s more, Chief Caonabó’s messengers eat a lot. But we must continue to show them the same courtesy as we would Chief Caonabó himself.

  I do my best to avoid Chief Caonabó’s men. I often catch them staring at me during the communal meals and following me during my afternoon walks. Often they rush ahead to cut a tree limb with an ax or uproot a dense bush in my path or shoot arrows at tree rats or birds dangling on high branches above my head. I have asked them to stop doing this, but it’s no use. They continue.

  HALF MOON, DAY 6

  Behechio and I met with Matunherí, at his request, after the communal meal at dusk. Behechio said that if Chief Caonabó does not come soon, he will send his messengers back to Maguana. They are eating too much of our food and they loaf all day, unless they are watching me.

  I have had many dreams now of Chief Caonabó’s ship capsizing at sea, resulting in his death. Could it be that my fears and anxieties are creeping into my dreams? How can I be sure that this very tragic event has not already taken place?

  I went for a long walk on the beach, watching the horizon for distant storms. The skies seemed clear, but it’s hard to be certain in matters concerning the sea. Something could have happened to Chief Caonabó’s ship, somewhere in the waters between here and Maguana.

  I noticed Chief Caonabó’s men watching me. I walked up to them and before I could speak they said, “Please forgive us, but we are only following the wishes of our chief.”

  “And what is the wish of your chief?” I asked.

  “To be sure no ill comes to you,” they said.

  I thought this very insolent of their chief. Haven’t I lived my whole life without his protection? What made him think I would need it now?

  I was so aggravated, I almost forgot what I had walked up to say to them. It wasn’t to scold them. It was simply to ask if they were not fearful for their chief.

  They were not worried, they said. If something had happened to Chief Caonabó, he would have sent them a signal.

  “What kind of signal?” I asked.

  Birds, they said. Black birds of peril, which he always traveled with for this purpose.

  Birds! Of course! I should have known.

  If the chief were in peril, they said, the skies would be covered with black birds.

  Again, the skies were as clear as on any beautiful day. There were no signs of black birds anywhere. Still, considering Chief Caonabó’s extreme fascination with birds, I am beginning to think he is short a few feathers himself.

  HALF MOON, DAY 7

  Chief Caonabó has appeared. At last! I am surprised at the joyous feelings his arrival has stirred in me. I did not see him for very long, but only caught a peek as he was entering Matunherí’s house with his men. From what I could see, he appeared spent from his journey. Before Chief Caonabó could see me, Bibi quickly took me away from Matunherí’s yard, for reasons she did not need to explain. In my absence, it seems, I might be a more valuable conquest than in my unmasked presence.

  HALF MOON, DAY 8

  I am once again with Baba and Bibi, with orders from my uncle not to appear at his house until he sends for me. Oh, what games! According to Baba, Chief Caonabó slept soundly after his long journey, which was quite difficult. He encountered rough seas, and nearly lost his life. Still he did not release the black birds of peril. How brave!

  HALF MOON, DAY 9

  I thought Matunherí had forgotten me, but finally he sent for me. Bibi and Baba came along with me to his house before the sunrise meal. When we arrived, Behechio was already there, along with many of the subchiefs from the villages and Chief
Caonabó with a small group of his counselors.

  Bibi had seen to it that I was wearing my most beautiful coral-and-gold ear and leg ornaments, but none of them matched the splendor of Chief Caonabó’s bright, feathered headdress and shiny belt and breastplate. I did my best to avoid looking at him and to appear indifferent, as Bibi had advised, but it was quite difficult as my uncle spoke at length.

  He felt his health was not improving, Matunherí said. He knew that he was soon to join the ancestors. He did not want to leave Xaraguá weakened, so he was proposing an alliance between Xaraguá and Maguana, which would make both territories stronger and more resilient to the Kalinas and even to natural hazards like windstorms and hurricanes.

  “Chief Caonabó has asked to marry our treasured Anacaona,” he continued. “And we have accepted. But since it is also Anacaona’s fate to rule Xaraguá along with Behechio, she must accept Chief Caonabó’s offer herself.”

  Suddenly, I felt every eye on me. It was as though I was holding the fate of Xaraguá in my hands. At the same time, I was glad that my choice was so plain, so simple. Before me was someone I already admired and might even love. I could have had this same offer from someone I despised. Rather than marry someone I hated, I would have remained in Xaraguá. But with the great opportunity that this marriage presented — how could I refuse?

  I could hear Matunherí’s laborious breathing filling up the whole room. More than anyone else, even more than Chief Caonabó perhaps, Matunherí was eagerly waiting for my reply. It was as if he had been postponing his last breath for this, some hope that he could craft a better future for Xaraguá.