Beyond the Snows of the Andes

by Beatrice Brusic

  “And continue to live on my knees? Bearing her insults, her contempt for me every minute of my life? I don’t think so. I’d rather die of hunger if I have to. We’ll manage darling, we always do.”

  She finally finds something suitable, a mile away from where we live, but still in our neighborhood of Miraflores, in an old, decayed three-family brick house where a room on the first floor becomes available, and she rents it on the spot. The room is large with a bathroom on the side and a pebbled courtyard. There are tenants upstairs and on the sides, and a woman next door to us raises chickens and hens because the landlady doesn’t live in the house and this gives everyone freedom to own cats, dogs, parrots and anything else that strikes their fancy. I am glad to be living in a place full of pets because nobody will be able to say anything about my Bello, and I am not about to part from him no matter what anyone says anyway.

  “Es un conventillo,” [“it’s a boarding house”] says mother pointing to all the rooms upstairs and downstairs. “But if we mind our business and keep to ourselves we should be fine.”

  Oscar likes the yard and I like the big tree in front of our room because it’s tall, sturdy and it has nice, strong branches. I like heights, I like climbing on roof tops and looking down at the city, and that’s why mom calls me a tomboy. I find the games boys play a lot more exciting and interesting than the games girls play, and the few times I go out in the neighborhood, I hang out with boys. Mom can’t understand why I turned out this way; she was always very feminine and would have never dreamed of doing crazy stunts like that when she was a child.

  “Don’t get any ideas because you’re not going anywhere near that tree,” she warns me sternly, but I already know I’m going to climb it when I get the chance, and there is nothing she can do to stop me.

  ~~~

  As the men she hired load our furniture onto their truck, I realize that one way or another we are always moving and tell myself that when I get older I will never move, I will stay in the same house till the day I die. Mother has covered her head with a scarf and she is riding in the truck with us with a cheerful and hopeful expression. She guards the furniture she has brought from Oruro with her life - two beds, a dresser, a table, four chairs and a vitrina are practically everything we own in the world, and she tells the men to be careful because they don’t make furniture like that anymore.

  “Look at me,” she grins. “Guarding my fineries like I was moving into the palace of “Peter the Great” instead of a dump, but one has to be careful with what one has in this world, especially when one has so little.”

  Oscar cracks up and looks at me with excitement, it’s an adventure for him and he is pleased. I envy him; it takes so little to make him happy – a roof over his head, food on the table and a pat on the back from mother once in a while. Why can’t I be like that? My life would be so much easier with a disposition like that but I’m always longing for things I can’t have. The two of them are sharing a light moment while I’m consumed with fear and anxiety. I’m afraid this move is going to change my relationship with my aunt and that she will forget me because “ojos que no ven corazón que no siente.” [“out of sight, out of mind”]. I had hoped she would come to the terrace to see us off but the blinds have remained closed. She said goodbye to me coolly, and only Carlos hugged me with his crooked grin pinching my cheeks and saying “I’ll be seeing you soon dromedary.”

  “Where is arrivederci Roma?” I asked, using our favorite nickname for Ramiro, whose every word of goodbye or salutation is arrivederci Roma.

  “I guess he is in Roma,” he said with a grin.

  As I stood in the doorway saying goodbye, I thought of how much I was going to miss my uncle and my cousin.

  “You’ll come often,” said my uncle reading my thoughts. “Nothing is going to change for you.” But I’m afraid it already has and riding to our new home, I struggle to hide my tears. My cat is on my lap and I’m petting him distractedly because my mind is in turmoil.

  As we go down the two steps to our new room, mother asks the movers to be patient and wait for us. She begins quickly dusting and cleaning the tile floor with an old mop we brought from my aunt’s house. We have a small window next to the door that barely lets in the light, and with a sigh of resignation mom says that living in dungeons seems to be our destiny. The movers bring down the furniture and leave, and she looks around her with concern.

  “I hadn’t realized the room was so small,” she says biting her lower lip pensively. “But I guess it’s because I saw it bare and now it’s cluttered with our furniture. Oh, well, but at least it’s ours; nobody is giving it to us out of charity.”

  I say nothing but I hate it already, there is a heavy cloth covering the ceiling and I ask mother why it’s there.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t think that was there the first time we looked, do you?”

  “Now we don’t have swollen walls but we have a swollen ceiling, that’s just great, ma.”

  “Hush up, Vicky. I don’t need your queenly airs right now; this is home now and you better get used to it.”

  “I like it,” says Oscar jumping on the bed. The courtyard is bigger and the room is nicer.”

  I look at our front door and notice it’s very flimsy. ‘Gustavo could kick this door down with no problem at all.”

  “Don’t you worry about Gustavo, just worry about yourself, and instead of moping and criticizing, help me put everything in order.”

  ~~~

  The tenants that share the building with us are of mixed blood, half Indian and half white, and mother goes out of her way to be nice to them. She knocks on their door with a big smile on her face, the next morning.

  “I’m your new tenant and these are my children,” she says, extending her hand.

  “Good morning,” they mumble and close the door in our faces. Mom’s smile disappears but she finishes her rounds and sits on the patio with us looking at the two colorful roosters who woke us up first thing in the morning.

  “I’ve always loved roosters,” she says melancholically. “Since I was a little girl I would look forward to hearing that coo coo roo coo at the crack of dawn.“ She shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t understand why they were so hostile with me. All I’m trying to do is be neighborly and they treat me like I have leprosy or something. I don’t think we’re going to make any new friends here either.”

  I say nothing. I’m having a lot of problems adjusting to the situation and I don’t give a damn about the tenants, but mom is really bothered by their attitude.

  “Why do I have to keep proving myself to these people time and time again?” she says angrily.

  “Why are they always so suspicious and wary of me?” Oscar starts running around after their chickens and she yells at him, warning him that these people are not too friendly and he shouldn’t be looking for trouble. He begs for permission to go outside to play and I go with him, leaving her alone to straighten out the room before lunch time. We walk down four blocks and discover another outlet to the Choqueyapu River. The water flow here is not as big as the one near my aunt’s house so we don’t feel threatened by it and rather like it.

  We sit by the edge and start throwing stones into the murky water. There is a garbage dump nearby and a strong smell of burning trash assails us. Some Indian children are fishing through the garbage and others are openly squatting and defecating. Most are walking barefoot and we see broken glass bottles and cans all over the place. The sky is gray and there is a chill in the air suggesting rain.

  “Let’s go back or we’ll get drenched,” I tell him, and we start running back. He’s still holding some rocks in his hands and wants me to play a game with him.

  “Let’s throw them at the first cabbie we see, then we’ll hide and watch them go crazy, deal?”

  “Deal, but you throw the first stone and if you survive, I’ll throw the second one.”

  He agrees and gets ready. I have no doubt he’ll hit his target because h
e has excellent aim, at home whenever we played with Carlos throwing stones from the roof, he always hit his target first. The same thing happens at Carnivals when we are allowed to throw water balloons at passersby and he always drenches a lot more people than I do.

  We are outside the aluminum gate of the house now, and I hide behind the door while he furtively crouches down and hits the cab driver on the head, through the open window. He runs to me very fast and we hide behind the fence, but the man sees us and before we know it he’s in the house grabbing my arm and twisting it. He’s a fat man with big yellow teeth and a savage scowl on his face.

  “Ouch, I didn’t do it,” I yell. “He did.”

  He grabs my brother and hits him on the head. “You little runt,” he says through his teeth. “Next time I catch you doing mischief like this I’ll throw you into the river, is that understood?”

  My brother is crying and shaking, and I’m feeling very guilty for giving him away, when hearing the commotion mother comes out of the room running.

  “What’s going on here, why are you shaking my child,” she shouts, angrily.

  “Your child was outside throwing stones at me, he’s lucky I only shook him, I should have killed him. He almost made me lose control of my car.”

  “Is that true?”

  “We were just playing, ma, we didn’t mean to hit him.’

  “I’m sorry,” says mother turning to the irate stranger. “I’ll make sure this never happens again.”

  “You better,” he says, glaring at my brother. “He won’t be so lucky the next time.’

  “That’s a fine way to start life in the new neighborhood,” says mother grabbing each of us by the ear. “Indeed, a fine way, what if the man really hurt you? He would have been more than justified. Don’t we have enough problems already without worrying about you getting into trouble from day one? When am I going to have a little peace of mind? Moving is so stressful and instead of helping me out you start making enemies already, that’s just great; a great pair of children I have.”

  We eat the noodle soup she made quietly, but from time to time Oscar and I look at each other and want to laugh despite our troubles, but we don’t dare because mom will eat both of us for lunch. The expression on the fat man’s face when the stone hit his head was so priceless we wanted to die laughing, but had to wait till later when things had calmed down, and then I apologized to my brother for being such a coward and giving him away and he forgave me, saying he would have done the same if he had been in my place.

  “I mean the guy was big, Vicky,” he said. “Did you see his gorilla hands?” That provoked another fit of laughter and another reprimand from mother.

  ~~~

  Weeks later, as unhappy as I am by the move, I grudgingly begin to see the advantages. For one thing we no longer have to walk on egg shells to avoid offending Aunt Sonia and that improves mom’s disposition tremendously. She takes pride in the room and begins singing her favorite boleros again. To help pay the rent she’s forced to work harder than ever but she doesn’t complain.

  “It’s so nice not to be beholden to anyone anymore,” she says sitting outside drinking her mate de coca. “So nice to be able to take the sun whenever I want to, so great to be able to come and go as I please without worrying what her majesty the Queen of England will say, that I’m almost grateful to that drunken bum for getting me out of that hell hole. I should have done this a long time ago but I was so afraid, this baby I’m carrying has given me the courage to break free. If it’s a boy I’m going to call him Simón, like Simón Bolivar, our liberator, and if it’s a girl I’ll call her Claudia like your grandmother, God bless her soul.”

  “What do you think it will be ma?”

  “I think it might be a boy because I’m carrying it pointy in the front, with a girl it’s always round.”

  “You remember when you were carrying me, ma?”

  “Of course I do, Vicky, and despite my circumstances I was the happiest woman alive.”

  “What circumstances?”

  “Not married, expecting a child, watching my parents forcing your father to get married and do the right thing.”

  Her face is tense now and her expression changes. The door opens and the family that lives upstairs from us comes in from the outside. The two grandparents follow and she notices they hold each by the hand.

  “That’s what I wanted,” she says watching them with tenderness. “A family, a man I could grow old with. It wasn’t much to ask. I never asked for houses or jewels or lots of clothes like your aunt, all I wanted was to be loved. Never get divorced, Vicky, never end up like me; a woman alone has a horrible life, you need a man to buffer the blows of life.”

  “I’ll never get married, ma, I’ve already decided that.”

  She throws her head and laughs. “Look at Miss Independent. That’s what I used to say every time I saw my stepfather beating up on my mother, but I didn’t count on my own need for love and security, we all have them, you know, even you.”

  I say nothing to her but I’m sure I won’t change my mind when I get older. I can’t understand why people get married anyway, nobody seems to be happy, my aunt Sonia is not happy because my uncle is too boring, Aunt Eli is not happy because her husband cheats on her, Laura is not happy because she didn’t get to become Miss Universe - never traveled around the world and married a man who doesn’t make enough money. Uncle Jorge is not happy because his wife is too passive and his two children are stones around his neck. I would have to be crazy to aspire to a life like that. It’s so much better to be alone like Luisa and Clarissa who don’t have to answer to anybody.

  ~~~

  Mom finds a way to supplement her income by selling sugar coated carrots to our school. We help her make the candies by peeling and grinding the carrots for hours, and when the little carrot balls are finished, we sprinkle them with coconut to make them taste better. The sweets sell well because of the novelty, and the fact that they are nutritionally better than the junk food children are used to. It’s a heartwarming sight to see her standing there with a smile on her face, holding her little wagon of goodies during recreation periods. It gives my brother and me a new sense of maturity and responsibility to know we have contributed, and to see the students enjoying the treats and becoming avid consumers. She is getting bigger now, walks a little wobbly, and the kids affectionately call her the “duck lady.”

  But there are some mean spirited girls at school and they start calling me “a beggar and the daughter of a carrot merchant.” Oscar catches me in tears from the abuse one afternoon and demands to know who has offended me. I point to the two girls snickering in a corner and watch him throw two stones at their heads in perfect aim. The abuse stops immediately filling me with pride, he is smaller than all of us but a lot tougher, and now he has stood up for me the way he always stands up for mother.

  ~~~

  The months pass quickly and one day mother wakes up in pain. “Quick,” she yells. “Get me the hot water bottle. My back is killing me.”

  “Is it time to go to the hospital?”

  “No, the pains are just starting. It must be a false alarm. I think I’m going to give birth to an elephant. I don’t remember ever getting so big with any of my pregnancies.”

  The moment passes but she is disturbed. “I didn’t sleep well last night,” she says with strain on her face. “I heard the mice running around in the ceiling all night. I think they have nested up there and your cat doesn’t do anything about it, what a waste he is. They say where there are cats there are no mice but that’s a lie. The mice follow us everywhere we go, and your stupid cat just lets them reproduce like crazy.”

  “He’s outnumbered, ma, how can you think one cat is going to kill all the mice we have?”

  “The cats in the bodegas are experts, they starve them to death and they catch mice all the time, that’s what we need to do with him. He has it too easy, that’s why they laugh at him, and I’m really surprised they don’t shit
right on his face, he’s so stupid.”

  “Why are you always picking on him,” I say starting to cry as I see him sleeping peacefully on my bed. “He’s not doing anything to you. It’s not his fault you didn’t sleep. Why are taking it out on him?”

  “I didn’t sleep well because he’s curled up with you all the time instead of doing his job which is to catch mice. That cat is a free loader like you.”

  We have mouse traps where we trick mice with a piece of cheese but it’s a losing battle, we catch two and ten more come, we had them at my aunt’s house and we have them here. I see them scurrying around and making funny noises, and Bello tries to get them but it’s an impossible job, so most of the time he just ignores them as we do, for there is nothing else to be done.

  My brother and I call them our permanent tenants because they follow us from house to house, but they don’t really bother us because we never see them in the daytime and only hear them at night, although I did see a fresh one the other day that jumped on mom’s dresser and looked right at me in broad daylight. I watched him fascinated for he was actually very cute, with vivacious eyes and a sinewy body, and we stared at each other for the longest time till mother opened the door and he jumped like a spring and hid under the dresser.

  I’m upset now because this is not the first time she focuses on my cat, since we moved here Bello has been great in letting us know when he has to go to the bathroom, and yet he gets no credit at all from mother. She expects the world from him and is never satisfied with anything he does. She is in a lousy mood now because her back hurts so I decide to remove my cat from her sight till the bad moment passes.

  We sit in the sun and I pet him for a long time. We haven’t eaten yet and my stomach is growling but stroking him always calms me down and the sun on my face feels wonderful. I close my eyes and let the rays caress me. I love the sun. I love to sit outside and read a book with the sun shining on my hair. I can’t imagine a world without sun and that’s why I hate our rainy season which lasts so long.