Mosquito

by Gayl Jones

  I don’t mean to sound like I’m preaching, he said. Usually I don’t talk about the new Underground Railroad, I just do it. I answer questions at our strategy meetings, and help to formulate strategies, but I don’t recruit, and I generally don’t even answer questions about what we do. I suppose a collaborator is the opposite of a resister. How do we resist? Simply by helping people to avoid being captured. We resist in other ways, of course.

  Yeah, well, that’s good. But I ain’t the sorta person for that, joining any Sanctuary movement. I guess I’m a resister myself.

  He didn’t say nothing. He looked at the fountain. Or if y’all wants to call it a aqueduct. He scratched the tip of his nose and looked toward the restaurant, then looked at me. I looked at some of them peoples on the street. That one of them streets in Texas City that gots everybody on it—Native Americans, African Americans, whites and other ethnic Americans, Mexican Americans, them that ain’t Americans, them that’s pretending they’s Americans. A Native American woman in a oversize T-shirt and Bermuda shorts and carrying a copy of a newspaper looks toward Father Raymond and me. She looks as if she wants to say something to Father Raymond but she don’t. She do sit down on the next bench, though, and unfold that newspaper and starts reading. It ain’t no Texas City newspaper. Look too big to be a Texas City newspaper.

  It’s good and all, padre, y’alls new Underground Railroad, ’cause I am a fan of the old Underground Railroad that us history teacher Mr. Freeman taught us about. It weren’t in the history books but he taught us about it outside the history books and got into trouble with the school board for it, ’cause he were supposed to only teach what were inside the books. But them highway patrol and all they always harassing me, you know, so I wouldn’t be any good for bringing people across the border anyhow. That Maria, that was just . . . Well, you oughta get you someone that the border patrol don’t harass. ’Cause them border patrol, you know, they always harassing me. And probably a lot of them border patrol people they ownself doing a lot of that smuggling and shit. They had a documentary on that, so I knows as much about that as I knows about them refugees. But they always harassing me, them border patrol. They see this big woman and think I’m smuggling. . . .

  I said we don’t want you to bring anyone across the border. He seem like he were kind of angry me talking about smuggling or me having different perceptions of what he saying than what he saying.

  I just finished paying on my truck, own it, ain’t leasing it no more. I’m too much of a loner for all this Sanctuary business. I would prefer not to be in y’all’s Sanctuary business. I ain’t no soldier. I might look like a soldier, ’cause once somebody told me I looked like one of them Amazons, you know, them warrior women and shit, but I ain’t no soldier. At least that ain’t the idea I has of myself. But them that knows me ain’t surprised by my resistance at all. Even my schoolteachers usedta say that I resisted learning more than I learned, except for my Latin teacher. I myself thought I learned more resisting learning than learning. To tell you the truth, I learned more about history resisting history than learning the history that even Mr. Freeman wanted me to learn. I even knows more about the English language than they thinks I knows.

  He looked at me and scratched his forehead. He smiled but said nothing. He looked at the fountain.

  As I was saying, we don’t want you to carry anyone across the border, Sojourner. We want you to carry them within the border.

  Say what? I lean forward and pick up some wild mustard and start chewing. I looks at that woman with the newspaper that don’t look like no Texas City newspaper. She look up at me and then continue reading her newspaper. Soon as she sat over there, though, Father Raymond start to speaking a little softer.

  The people that we rescue often need to be moved from one hideout to another hideout until we can get proper papers for them.

  I got work, I says in my same voice. He nudges my elbow and we walks toward the fountain. The woman look like she wants to rise up and walk towards the fountain with us, but she stays sitting on the bench, reading her newspaper. She do kinda look toward the fountain. Then she take out one of them little radios and start listening to her radio whilst she reading her newspaper. I gots to get me one of them little radios. I gots me a pocket television, but you ain’t always wants to look at no pocket television. I gots to get me one of them little radios, but I wants the newest radios that they sells at them trade shows.

  I can’t be darting from one hideout to another, I says. You know the fondest thing for me is my truck. I can’t just be riding anybody in my truck. I ain’t a fool for my truck, though. Anyway, how you know you can trust me?

  We know.

  Been spying on me, huh? You have been spying on me, ain’t ya? Well, I ain’t never been spied on before that I know of. Seem like if they have them laws against stalking, they have them laws against spying, and what about them private detectives and shit?

  Think about it, okay? To tell the truth, we don’t usually recruit new people. I certainly don’t recruit anyone. I guess that’s why you think I sound like I’m preaching. To tell the truth, that’s one thing I’ve never been accused of—being a preacher.

  You’s a priest, though, ain’t you? You’s got to preach to be a priest when y’all has mass and takes confession.

  Yes, but that’s different.

  I’ve always thought of you priests as more glorified preachers, though, on account of the Catholic Church being such a old church. I mean a older church in being a church than for instance the Perfectability Baptists which is a new church and even new to the Baptists, ’cause they’s a lot of Baptists that ain’t never heard of the Perfectability Baptists. They’s heard of the perfecting Baptists or even perfect Baptists, but they ain’t heard of the Perfectability Baptists.

  The woman who I be thinking some spy gets up and goes into the restaurant. We go back and sit on the bench. I can see her through the restaurant window ordering a pizza. She take the radio out of her ears but continue reading the newspaper.

  We’re not really the mainstream Sanctuary movement, if you can call the Sanctuary movement mainstream. We recruit very few people. But you’ve proven your ingenuity.

  Mi ingeniosidad.

  Bueno.

  Spying on me and shit. I mean, excuse me, Padre, excuse my French, but you know what I mean. But, you know what I mean. I mean, it’s crazy, y’all trying to recruit me and shit. I mean even if you don’t recruit and thinks preaching is recruiting. I’m still a resister. Who am I? ¿Quién soy? I mean, even if I didn’t intend to, I might compromise y’all. You know what I’m saying? I likes to talk to everybody that I likes to talk to and I might say something about the new Underground Railroad that might not meant to be told. I might resist to tell things, believing that by not telling them, I’m being a perfect conductor on y’all’s new Underground Railroad, and then I might tell things that ain’t meant to be told. ¿Comprende? Plus, like I said, them patrols thinks I’m a smuggler. And being the Amazon that I am, people are always noticing me, even when they don’t know it’s me, or even thinks I’m another Nadine. Them that knows I’m Mosquito knows I’m Mosquito, but there’s always peoples that thinks I’m another Nadine. You need you somebody inconspicuous and shit.

  I think you’re trustworthy. And he looking at me like he looking at that Sojourner, like he ain’t looking at none of them Nadines, or Mosquito or Jane, but looking at Sojourner. I think that what first attracted me to him, I mean for a priest. You can be attracted to the personality of a priest and ain’t mean that you ain’t know he a priest. And there ain’t many peoples that knows I’m Sojourner, or even has got that potential of being Sojourner, even them that knows that’s my true name. And plus I know all that preachification ain’t the true him.

  Yeah, maybe I should join y’all’s movement. You know, them border patrol they’s always harassing me and shit, like I said, and I ain’t carrying no contraband, you know. When Miguelita and Delgadina and me went to Marineland they ha
rassed me and Delgadina but didn’t harass Miguelita ’cause she one of them white girls who can go anywhere she pleases. They harassed me and they even made Delgadina get out of the Land-Rover and had to make sure that she were a citizen of the Americas. Miguelita was sleeping in the back of the Land-Rover and they pretended they wasn’t harassing her ’cause she was sleeping, but Delgadina called her name and woke her up. She woke up and seen us being harassed and they still didn’t harass her.

  Who’s Miguelita?

  Miguelita Delgado. She a white girl but she married to a Mexican American. Or maybe he’s a Mexican. But she can go anywhere she pleases. She did get deported from Switzerland somebody said—it’s just a rumor and I ain’t know that story and Delgadina don’t even know it—but she can go anywhere else and the borders is free for her.

  How did she get deported from Switzerland?

  Well, the rumor is that when she were going into Switzerland from France she seen the Swiss border patrols hassling these Africans and they let the Americans and French and others cross the border with just showing they passport, and all even African Americans had to do was to show they passport, but with them Africans they makes them open all they luggages and empty all they pockets and turn they pockets inside out, and for some reason that Miguelita decided she were going to say something to them Swiss about why they was hassling them Africans when they wasn’t hassling any other nationalities, even African Americans of the same color. So she started preachifying to them and the Swiss deported the fool. Least they sent her back to France. That’s the rumor. I don’t know whether it’s a true lie or a fabricated truth.

  He don’t say nothing. He look like he want to hear some more true lies or fabricated truths. Or maybe he want to hear more about Miguelita.

  She one of them white girls that can go anywhere, I said. She could probably even get back into Switzerland if she would just go along to get along. Me they hassles in us own borders, ’cause I think I brings out the gringo in peoples. And them that is carrying contraband they don’t harass. And if that documentary is true, they should start harassing they ownself, and they’s probably more smugglers smuggling up in Canada than down in Mexico, ’cause they be talking about how them Canadians always be crossing the border and buying up shit that cheaper in the States and I’m sure some of that shit is contraband, but I guess they don’t call that smuggling ’cause that’s a free border, like if you was to smuggle something from Texas to California, or from Covington to Cincinnati. But as long as y’all don’t send me across the border with none of y’all contraband, yeah, ’cause I don’t want to be none of them collaborator . . . I hope y’all don’t mind no phony in y’all’s organization, though.

  He pulls at his mustache and then scratch underneath his collar. What do you mean?

  Cause I still ain’t interested in no Sanctuary movement, and I will resist y’all if y’all tries to make me do what I prefers not to do. Not that I don’t have no social conscience and shit. I mean, excuse my French, I likes you and Maria as individuals. I mean, my being more interested in showing them border patrol sons of bitches, excuse my French, thumbing my nose at them border patrol, you know what I’m saying?

  Exactly.

  ¿Exactamente?

  Muy bien.

  How come y’all wants a woman like me anyhow?

  What do you mean a woman like you?

  I mean, you know, just an ordinary woman. Working woman. Trabajadora. Working-class woman. I mean, I thought people in the Sanctuary movement was members of the intelligencia and shit or those rich—excuse my French. I’m ignorant about everything except driving my truck and them industrial detergents and I do know something about Latin and general science, a little bit about history, but from my own interpretation, I knows a little Spanish which I been learning, and I do know almost everything I’ve heard on them documentaries on television, ’cause I got myself a pocket television, I knows the English that I don’t resist to know, I knows how to dance the Argentinean tango, and I knows the difference between Taco Bell tacos and real tacos, I ain’t no songstress but I have sung in a play and I can recite poetry if it rhymes, I knows a little Italian ’cause I knows some Italians who is as much colored as they’s Italian, I knows something about entrepreneurship and could run a restaurant if I had the desire to, I reads and writes, I has hidden talents and I likes to reflect on people and ideas, and I’m addicted to trade shows, so I knows a little bit about every newfangled invention. You know what I’m saying, like on television, they always be saying about women like me, She ain’t no rocket scientist. Well, you know what I mean. I ain’t no rocket scientist. Delgadina don’t like to hear me say I’m ignorant, ’cause people will overhear me saying I’m ignorant and feel justified in stereotyping all colored peoples as ignorant. I knows that there is brilliant colored people. I got sense enough not to tell everybody I’m ignorant. I just tells the people that is bright enough to know that christening myself as ignorant ain’t christening the whole race. I mean, I wouldn’t put my ignorance in no book for everybody to read. I honors my race, if I don’t celebrate it as much as Delgadina celebrates Chicanoism. I thinks the best people ought to represent the race, and them’s the people I wants to represent me. I don’t want nobody to confuse me with no representative of us race or to use me to prove they theories of inferiority. I agrees on some things with the ex-colored man, but I still considers myself colorful. I ain’t shitting you, Ray, excuse my French.

  Father Raymond he don’t say nothing, he just laugh. I figure he have read The Ex-Coloured Man, his theories on race, and his preachifying. I remember reading that preachifying, though, and thinking why they keep all that preachifying in that book, because it seem like to me it would have been a better book without all that preachifying.

  You’re a jokester too, ain’t ya? asked Ray, and seem like he speaking like me, then he speak in his own proper voice. I don’t know when you’re putting me on, you and your French. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist . . . As for the intelligentsia, there are people of all classes in the Sanctuary movement. We have a few rocket scientists and members of the elite, but there’s plenty working-class people too . . . And working class don’t mean you ain’t intelligent, you know . . . Well, I’ll be in contact.

  Okay, Padre. And don’t expect me to be no Vista Volunteer.

  What?

  I look across at the restaurant and at the Native American woman eating pizza. She still reading that newspaper. And now she got her radio back in her ears.

  I mean, I might move some of them suckers from one hideout to another, but I ain’t the Vista Volunteer type, if you know what I mean. I ain’t no goody-goody.

  Yeah, I know. He winks at me.

  Hey, Father Raymond.

  What?

  You know, the Spanish word for Mosquito is mosquito.

  Yeah, I know. It’s a diminutive of the Spanish mosco which means fly and from the Latin musca. There’re people in Honduras and Nicaragua called Mosquitos and mosquito’s a language too.

  You talking ’bout race being a myth. Well, it seem like to me that language is a myth too. I mean, mosquito being the same everywhere and shit. Well, I gots to get back to my truck.

  We shake hands and I walks toward my truck which is parked around the corner from the restaurant. The road the restaurant on ain’t wide enough for my truck so I had to park around the corner. When I’m turning the corner, I glance around and see the Native American woman leaving the restaurant and going toward Father Raymond. I ain’t stand there to spy on them, though. I goes and gets in my truck. I be thinking she a spy for somebody else. But maybe she a spy for Father Raymond hisself. Then I realizes I knows that woman. Leonora Valdez. Least I thinks it Leonora Valdez. You know, the reservation Native American woman that told me she were on her way to the University of New Mexico. Were she scouting me then? I can’t confirm to y’all it her, or confirm that I have seen her since I seen her hurry out of the restaurant and hand Father Raymond that newspa
per.

  CHAPTER 9

  WHERE IS SHE? ASKED FATHER RAYMOND. HE WAS standing talking to a woman who looked like one of those professional types and was carrying a briefcase. We were in the basement of a farmhouse, a large-size basement that looked like one of them warehouses where I unloads when I’m transporting industrial detergents. They’s standing near the bottom of the stairs leading up into the farmhouse kitchen. I’m standing over by a table of refreshments, mostly sodas and bottled water, no Bud Light. You ain’t supposed to drink out of the bottle, though, ’cause they’s large-size bottles. You’s supposed to drink out of the plastic cups. They’s also got one of them juicers where you can make your own juice. I watches as some of the Sanctuary workers comes and makes they own juice. One of them makes carrot and apple juice. You can also make pear and apple juice, a juice with parsley and celery, and other kinds of juices. I watches them make the juices, but I just gets me a Coke. I knows about that juicer, though, ’cause Delgadina got herself one of them juicers and say that it makes pulp-free juice and she’s got a lot of different fresh juice recipes and menus. I think she say that that apples and pear juice is supposed to be good for digestion and regularity. And they’s even supposed to be a combination of juices that is anti-aging juices. I think she say that that is parsley and carrot and apples or maybe it’s beet and apple and parsley and celery and carrot. I know that she herself is always drinking them combination of juices. They’s got some recipes next to the juicer. I knows that that juice is good, though, ’cause Delgadina made me some of that carrot and apple juice. And she don’t peel them carrots and apples neither. She just put them in the juicer with they seeds and stems. And they’s got cinnamon sticks near the juicer. I just thought they was some kinda red sticks, but then I picks up one and it smell like cinnamon.