Mosquito

by Gayl Jones

  Except for Spanish class, she say again, pulling on her wimple. But a lot of those kids teach me more Spanish than I teach them. I wish we could afford to hire someone to teach one of the native languages too. But then there are so many of them native languages and I wouldn’t want to privilege one native language over another, though. Of course here in South Texas English is a privileged language, but when I teach my class I try not to privilege English over Spanish or Spanish over English.

  Ain’t I said she don’t seem as gringa as when I first seen her? And me I’m wondering why they have Spanish class, though, when they already speaks Spanish and she be saying them kids speaks that Spanish better than she do, so I guess she must be a gringa, though Delgadina say they’s Mexican Americans that don’t speak Spanish they ownself or just know a few words in Spanish. And of course people has English class that already speaks English. Them English class they teach you one kind of English, so maybe them Spanish class teach them kids one kind of Spanish and maybe ain’t even the Spanish that they speak and maybe teaching them what they consider the high-class Spanish, and maybe even that Spanish Spanish and not even that Mexican Spanish, though I know that Mexican Spanish different from that Spanish Spanish. I had me a dream about them kids, though. They was in the courtyard playing the Lone Ranger, except all the kids wanted to be the Lone Ranger, didn’t none of them want to play that Tonto. Then all the kids spotted me and they be saying, Let her play Tonto, let Nadine play Tonto. And I be wondering how they knew my name Nadine and guess maybe that Carmelite nun told them my name Nadine. So I tells the kids I don’t want to play Tonto or Tonta, so they ties me to a stake and starts beating drums, except but they beating them African drums, and be telling me that since I ain’t a true native of the Southwest that I gotta play Tonta. I be thinking they going to say because I’m a African American I gotta play Tonta, but they be saying because I ain’t a true native of the Southwest. Except them from Mexico be calling the Southwest the Northwest ’cause the Southwest of the U.S. is the Northwest of Mexico.

  Them’s African drums, I be saying. If y’all can be beating them African drums, how come I gotta play Tonta?

  It’s all the same drum, they be saying.

  Lone Ranger don’t beat no drum, I be saying.

  Yeah, but we do, they be saying.

  But one of them kids beating the African drum and be beating that drum just like a real African like he know the language of that drum he be saying he ain’t the Lone Ranger nor that Tonto either, he Gregorio Cortez. I heard about that Gregorio Cortez ’cause Delgadina call them social bandits like I said which I guess make them different from them ordinary roguish bandits and different from that Frito bandito too. Some of them kids, though, they keeps beating the African drum though some beats it with more a South American or Caribbean flavor, others more Native American, while the others be playing basketball, except but they don’t play it like basketball, they play it like soccer, and be kicking the ball with they feet. And they be letting the girls play soccer with the boys inside this dream, though outside the dream I don’t remember seeing them girls in the courtyard playing that soccer with them boys or even girls playing soccer with other girls. Then one of the little girls say her name something sound like Nako or Sinako but it a longer name than that I just remember the “nako” or “sinako” part of that long name, little Native American girl, she come and untie me from that stake and say that even if I ain’t a native of the Southwest I don’t have to play Tonta and don’t have to be tied to no stake neither. And then after that I be in another dream. I be that Maria climbing inside of my truck, and then that Maria be me, scrambling up into the back of my truck with that flashlight and that stun gun and shining that light on my guaraches and my belly.

  Sojourner.

  But now we standing in her office, though, like I said, and that Carmelite nun talking in that voice again, like elementary school teachers talking to adults the same way they talks to children but she don’t sound as gringa as the first time I seen her, like I said, and I be wondering again if she the same nun, but I know she the same nun, and maybe she sounding more gringa when I first seen her ’cause maybe she didn’t know if I’m one of them immigration officers and didn’t know whether she could trust me, me being a stranger.

  We watching them childrens playing. All the childrens they got them dark eyes and I be wondering whether that teacher see wild animal eyes or wild people eyes or just people eyes. You know, that movie I told you that Delgadina and me went to and that man be saying that dark-eyed woman have them wild animal eyes, and me I didn’t see no animal eyes just human woman eyes, and I be wondering how come in that movie the woman with the dark eyes supposed to have animal eyes.

  Say what?

  He don’t want to compromise the movement, she be saying. But she won’t tell me where he is. But me I’m thinking maybe he’s in Mexico with that girlfriend. He in Mexico? I start to ask her. I don’t ask her that, though. And I’m still thinking about that woman in the movie supposed to have wild animal eyes and then I’m thinking about that woman he brought to hide in my apartment that night and then about that comparison being a petty demon shit. And then I’m thinking more about that other woman, the one he brought to my apartment, the one that them other refugees attacked on account of they remembered her as the general’s concubine, the concubine of that tyrant, leastwise I think that the tale. Maybe it her he in love with now. I’m thinking, or maybe it her his original girlfriend, the original girlfriend he be telling me about, maybe he ain’t told me the whole true story and maybe he up in Canada with her, his first true love, one say she always be picking her them strong men. I guess you can be a strong man without being a tyrant. But that comparison a petty demon, he be saying.

  He ask me to drive him to el centro. He asked me or I dreamed it. He in el centro?

  Or in Mexico with that girlfriend? I’m thinking. Or in Canada with that new girlfriend? Or maybe that new girlfriend the original girlfriend? And then I be thinking of Delgadina once she be telling me she like them modern stories with them open-ended resolutions where you don’t know the whole story, you don’t know the resolution of the tale, but me I always likes the solution to the tale. So I ask her again if he in el centro, if he in Mexico, if he in Canada, but again she won’t tell me where he is and she just repeat that he don’t want to compromise the movement.

  I was half-sleep and. . . .

  I don’t tell her I was half-drunk too, ’cause she a nun. Drunk as a skunk on account of me and Delgadina celebrating her detective school. And in that cantina and her teaching me one of them drinking songs in Spanish. I don’t remember the words to that drinking song in Spanish except we was singing about a jug of pulque and a good man and then she started singing one of them Mexican corridos and some woman in one of them named Delgadina just like herself, except she be saying the Delgadina in that song a bad woman and she try to see herself as a good woman. You and me is good women, she be saying, and us drinking that pulque. I ask her to tell me about the other Delgadina, the Delgadina in that song, but she won’t tell me, ’cause she be saying that that Delgadina in that song, in that corrido, is one of them mb and dtk women, mad, bad, and dangerous to know and she try to be a good woman, we’s both good women, she saying, but she do tell me that she ain’t named after the Delgadina in that song, though. You and me is good women, she be saying, and I ain’t named after that Delgadina in that song, and then we drink some more of that pulque and toast to the good women and the good men of them drinking songs.

  I don’t tell her about that pulque, ’cause she a nun. Leastwise, I think she a nun. Maybe them nuns drink pulque. But in Mexico that Isabella—I just name her Isabella my ownself—he say that Isabella she already got her this new boyfriend, some perfect Eden-type love. But maybe he decide to reveal hisself, decide that he wanna be that perfect Eden-type love his ownself. Yeah, he decide he want to be her perfect love his ownself. And maybe that story about her in Mexico ain’t even t
rue, ’cause maybe she the general’s concubine. And I’m thinking I don’t know which of them stories Raymond be telling me or that concubine be telling me is the true story.

  You a real Carmelite nun? I asks. Leastwise I think she a Carmelite.

  Yes, I am, she say. Why? She pull on her wimple—I think that’s what you call a wimple.

  I just thought maybe you was in disguise too, you know like the padre.

  What padre in disguise? What do you mean?

  Now I don’t know whether she just say that ’cause she don’t know or not to compromise the padre, but then I’m thinking—naw, I don’t believe he no real padre pretending to be no padre in disguise—cause then he be too cunning. Talking about that trickster and shit. But I don’t pursue that disguise thing ’cause maybe she do think he a real padre, though I wouldn’t mind asking her if she know his old girlfriend. But then a real padre ain’t supposed to have a girlfriend, except in them scandals. And then I’m thinking about that el centro again. Did I dream that el centro or did he call me about that el centro? I think about taking my truck and heading for that el centro.

  But I leaves the mission school and goes back on my route, carrying that industrial detergents. Them border patrols they spots me and stops to see if I’m carrying any contraband.

  What’s this? he ask, waving his flashlight.

  Industrial detergents. Look like powdered milk, though.

  What?

  Detergents. You know, industrial detergents. Look like powdered milk, though. The texture and color of powdered milk.

  Well, ain’t all of it the color of powdered milk. They be different colors, them detergents, but they all the texture of powdered milk. Well, come to think of it most detergents, I mean powdered detergents, look kinda like powdered milk, don’t they? Except them liquid detergents. They got liquid industrial detergents, but I just like me the powdered industrial and ecological detergents. . . .

  Open up one of them drums.

  He raps on the drum with his flashlight. His border patrol uniform look shabbier in the daylight.

  These detergents they ain’t for everyday peoples, though, I explains, opening the drum. They’s for industry, you know. Biodegradable. And them detergents they uses to sop up that oil on them beaches with. This ecological and industrial detergents. I guess that’s why they prefers powdered detergents on account of sopping up that oil on beaches, I mean.

  I’m still kinda hung over from that pulque and maybe them border patrol they don’t trust you when you looks at them with hawk’s eyes. They supposed to be looking at you with them hawk’s eyes.

  All this industrial detergents? he asks.

  He shines the light on that detergent, sifts some through his fingers, sniffs it. I think he gonna taste it too but he don’t. He put it back in the drum. All this industrial detergents? he repeat and shine the light on them other drums.

  Yeah. That’s all I does is industrial and ecological detergents. I ain’t no contrabandista.

  I be thinking he’s gonna ask for my green card. I just seen me one of them documentary on them green cards on my pocket TV where they’s these people make theyself a business of recruiting peoples so’s they can get married to these aliens so’s they can get theyself a green card. I don’t know if them Nicodemus does things like that or not, though. I be thinking about harboring that fugitive Maria, but then I be thinking she ain’t no modern fugitive Maria but one of them fugitive Africans them Daughters of Nzingha say call them fugitive Africans or captured Africans not slaves. And in them days them captured Africans desirous of freedom they be saying they be crazy, and them plantation psychiatrists they even have a name for it, and maybe even one of them Latin names, and then they send them to one of what they call them Negro asylums, ’cause that desire for freedom supposed to be a neurosis or some shit.

  Show me your license and registration papers.

  I be thinking he’s gonna ask for my green card, but he don’t. I shows him my license. He shine his light on my license, then on my face, then back on my license. I shows him my registration papers and then heads towards Texas City.

  I know they’s a lot of them modern-type stories, where I just be telling you I heads back to Texas City. And keep y’all wondering. Y’all be wondering whether me and Father Raymond gets back together, or whether I finds me some other man, ’cause a lot of y’all likes them romantic stories, even y’all that reads literary fiction. And a lot of y’all still be wondering whether Father Raymond a real priest pretending he ain’t a priest or ain’t a real priest pretending he a priest. All I know is when I gets back to Texas City they’s a letter for me. First I thinks it’s from Monkey Bread, but it ain’t Monkey Bread’s handwriting, even though she’s using that word processor these days, and also it ain’t postmarked California but Cuba, New Mexico.

  Ms. Sojourner Nadine Jane Johnson (Mosquito)

  c/o Delgado’s Cantina

  Texas City, Texas 77590

  Dear Mosquito,

  I hope you are well. I started to ask you to come with me, but I don’t know how long I’ll be here, working for the cause. Plus, it would seem rather strange, me being a priest, and having my woman with me. I am a real priest, you know. Not a real Catholic priest. One of the local shamans made me a priest of their faith, the old faith, before the conquerors. But we’re allowed to have a woman. The old faith, before the conquerors.

  Some of my mail will come to me c/o you. You’re the only one I trust. Forward all the personal mail. It should be forwarded to my P.O. box in Cuba, New Mexico, and from there someone will forward it to me where I am. I won’t tell you where I am. They only speak Spanish here, and one of the old native languages. I shall reemerge and find you, Sojourner. Take care.

  Yours,

  Ray

  EPILOGUE

  MY MAMA DIDN’T RAISE THE SORTA FOOL THAT would tell y’all the whole story about Ray and his people and the workings of the new Underground Railroad in South Texas. In fact, most of Ray’s people who is the subject of this story has relocated to different parts of the Americas, some in the USA, some in Canada, others in Mexico and Brazil, a few in Europe and Asia and Africa. Some even in Australia. Maybe even South Texas is just a metaphor.

  I know there is those of you who wants to know more of various people in my story. Some of y’all wants to know more about Maria and Journal, others of y’all wants to know more about Miguelita, some of y’all don’t think I’ve told y’all enough about Ray and still thinking why I be interested in a man like Ray, and thinking even John Henry more my type of man than Ray, and some of y’all wants to know more about John Henry. I know there is womens amongst y’all that wants to know more about various mens I’ve mentioned in my story, who their wives or lovers is, whether they’s available. Some of y’all don’t care if they ain’t available but wants to know more about them anyway. Some of y’all wants to know more about my ex-husband in Tasmania. Some of y’all wants to know more about Delgadina’s ex-husband in New York. I’ve told y’all that them men ain’t available and has got they true loves, but y’all still wants to know more about them. Some of the men amongst you thinks that y’all would make more interesting men than the men in my story. Some of y’all would like to retell the story so’s that the men is more interesting than the women and that it would be a better story if Ray had more a role than Delgadina and that Ray would be even more interesting if I had him tell me more about him being a guerrilla and all the different macho types of things that he does when he goes there to Latin America and also some of the other macho types of things that Ray does that ain’t in my story. I know there’s lots of y’all that thinks that Ray is a more complex man than I tells about in this story and that I should’ve waited to get to know him better and to know men better in general than I knows them before telling y’all my story. I would like to know what y’all mens thinks about Ray, because I would like to be able to learn more and know more about y’all’s ideals of manhood and to conquer my own ignorance
so’s that I can write about Ray from a perspective that is broader than my female one. When Ray decides he wants to tell y’all his own story for hisself, he might tell y’all the type of complex and macho story that y’all mens can identify with true manhood. I knows that I has got to become a better storyteller before I can transcend my female perspective. Delgadina would say that us females ain’t got nothing to transcend, but I do know for a fact that the Charlie T. Juárez that I seen for myself ain’t the same Charlie T. Juárez that Delgadina describe for me. And her specifying about me subduing myself around men. Seem like she were subduing herself around Charlie T. Juárez. Unless she were seeing Charlie T. Juárez for his true self and feeling like a true fool. I do know a little something about Eden Prine, and I will say that Delgadina is a more intellectual woman than Eden Prine.

  Some of y’all is thinking that even Ray is lovers with Maria. ’Cause I know I heard somebody say that Alvarado knows Quechua. Then why Ray say that he needed Maria to translate Quechua. Or maybe Ray was working with her on something to do with the Chiapas Rebellion, which she were only pretending she didn’t know anything about until she read about it in the newspaper. I am prohibited from asking too many questions about people I suspect of being Nicodemuses. Some of y’all is thinking whether or not Delgadina in the new Underground Railroad. I myself thinks that she is and has offered clues that she might be. ’Cause I know before Maria got in my truck that Delgadina was asking all kindsa questions about the latch on my truck and I know she ain’t never been interested in the latch on my truck. She even practiced unlatching my truck herself, like she was testing to see how easy it was to unlatch. Pretending that she thought I should get a better latch for my truck, which actually I think that she was glad that it had a easy latch. I believe that Delgadina has an active role and is engaged in the new Underground Railroad but she prefers to work as a Nicodemus. Now that she is in detective school and learning how to be a detective I think that is just to help her to work better for them and maybe even work for their guerrilla lawyers investigating. ’Cause I knows they have they own private investigators ’cause I heard Alvarado on the telephone with somebody.