by Emily Asad
* * * * *
One morning, Sebastian noticed that the jungle had ended. The trees had been slowly thinning for the last few days, and now he saw vast grassland in front of him. For the first time, he also noticed how awfully hot it had become. It was nearing winter in Spain, but here in the New World, it was hotter than the hottest summer he remembered, and his father had written that summer grew its hottest in December or January. And here it was, not even November!
Even so, the journey grew almost comfortable with Arazunú as a companion. In the first place, Arazunú was an excellent cook. Having trained to be a healer, he was familiar with many different plants and herbs, and not just for their medicinal values.
“This is absolutely delicious,” Sebastian would say again and again, every meal. One night, as the fire burned low, he even asked Arazunú where he had learned to cook.
The question seemed to frighten the Indian. But he answered, voice low, “Men in my tribe are not supposed to make food. That is the duty of a woman. But I missed eating food that was familiar to me, and the pirate cook always told stories about other men he knew who could cook better than he. There was no Guarani woman to cook for me,” he repeated, as if begging Sebastian for understanding. “I had to do it for myself.”
“Hey, it’s no big deal to me,” Sebastian said, seeing that his friend had become very upset. “Men in my country cook for themselves all the time.”
“It is different with my people,” said Arazunú. “Men hunt, women cook. If a man cooks, he is said to be a woman.”
“You mean that people call him names?”
Arazunú stared at Sebastian straight in the eyes. “No. I mean that he becomes a woman. Only women would want to cook, and only men want to hunt. That is the way of my people. If a man cannot hunt, or always brings bad luck to a hunt, then he is not allowed to hunt anymore. A man who cannot hunt is equal to a woman. Therefore he must become one, and carry a basket, and cook food for himself.” He looked very much ashamed and dropped his gaze to the ground.
Slowly, Sebastian understood what Arazunú was trying to say. “Listen to me. You’re not a woman just because you taught yourself to cook. It makes you a better man, that’s all. You can still hunt, right? No bad luck or anything like that?”
“I always hit what I aim for.”
“There you go, then. Still a man. Your people should be proud of you.”
Arazunú stood up, very upset. “That’s just it! They will not understand. And I’m not sure I want to go back to them. My heart cries to join them, but it is split in half. I want to go to war, and join in the hunts, and make myself food.”
“Why can’t you do everything?”
“I will be shunned, sent away from my tribe. They do not change. I have changed, against my will. I am no longer the person I used to be. I have been to the edge of the endless waters. I have traveled with men who use thunder to kill their enemies. And it… it…” He choked and refused to finish his sentence.
The night air blew soft caresses against Sebastian’s cheek. The stars were brighter than the ones in his beloved Spain. They seemed to finish Arazunú’s sentence for him. “And it has been exciting and you don’t want your adventure to end,” Sebastian said aloud. “And that frightens you, to prefer this life over the one you knew.”
The Indian kept his face passive. Over the last few weeks, Sebastian had learned his friend well enough to know he was shocked, even though he tried to cover his emotions.
Arazunú sat back down. “Yes,” he admitted finally.
“And your people may not satisfy you anymore.”
“Yes,” Arazunú choked.
The boys were silent, letting the wind echo the emptiness in their hearts.
“That’s what I’m afraid of, too,” Sebastian whispered. “All this time I’ve been thinking about how I just want to see my father and live in a house again and raise chickens and pigs and get married and have children. But it seems so boring now. Maybe Cabeza de Vaca and the other explorers were right. The best way to live is to chase dreams.” He shrugged. “Then again, maybe you can teach your people some things about change. I’m afraid my people are here to stay, and we tend to bring change with us wherever we go. Your people might have to accept it.”
Arazunú did not like that idea. “I’m very tired,” he said, which was his way of changing the subject. He crawled into his hammock. “Sleep well.”
“You, too,” said Sebastian as he banked the fire for the night. He had learned the trick of keeping coals alive all night from Arazunú. The hammock was another innovation of Arazunú’s, and a welcome one at that. Hanging comfortably in a bed made of woven vines, Sebastian could wrap himself in his woolen blanket and not have to fear rats, insects, or snakes. It made sleep a much more peaceful ordeal.
Sleeping was not the only thing that improved with Arazunú’s arrival. Sebastian also learned how to satisfy his thirst by cutting a water-vine and how to dig for a root called mandioca that could be boiled and eaten when it turned soft, or could be pounded into flour for flat bread or soup. Arazunú also taught him to identify specific trees, plants, and flowers as well as birds and animals.
Sebastian found that Arazunú did not understand the concept of “flower,” nor did he understand the concept of one color being used to name all the colors in its spectrum. His people had a name for each flower, and since no two flower species were identical, how could they all have the same name? Why were crimson and scarlet and maroon all shades of red, when only red could be called red? From what Sebastian could tell, Arazunú’s people had not only given names to every single plant in their region, but also knew the medicinal or edible value of every single one. Despite the fact that Arazunú had traveled so far from home, he still seemed to recognize the flora everywhere they journeyed.
Sebastian marveled at his new friend’s abilities. Although he could not grasp the concept of calling every plant with pretty petals a “flower,” he did learn to ride a horse in one day. His Spanish and Portuguese were perfect, and when Sebastian set his mind to teaching the Indian to read, Arazunú learned with such rapidity that Sebastian started training him in Latin, too. He regretted leaving so many of his books back in the pirate’s cove, but they were not necessary for survival. He was glad, however, that he had saved his copy of the Amadis de Gaula and the Sublimis Deus. (He had considered leaving Cabeza de Vaca’s book among the pirate booty, but he had promised to return it – if ever he saw that annoying man again.) A Bible would have been the preferred choice to teach reading, but Sebastian saw nothing wrong in sharing his adventure story with his friend. And since the Sublimis Deus applied to Arazunú’s own people, it was probably wise for both of them to read that one, too.
Another thing that amazed Sebastian was his friend’s clarity of thought. He had been thinking about that a lot, when one day he mentioned how amazing it was that Arazunú spoke in complete sentences.
“Why? Should I speak otherwise?”
“Oh, no, it’s just that I always expected Indians to sort of, you know, talk like babies. Like, ‘Arazunú want food now,’ or ‘Sebastian fall off horse.”
Arazunú smiled – and it was the closest he would come to laughing. “I used to speak like that in Spanish and Portuguese, when I was first learning the languages. That is how you sound when you speak to me in Guarani.”
“I sound like that? Like a baby?” He shook his head. “I don’t know why, but I thought that the natives of the New World would be simple-minded. I didn’t expect you to be able to beat me at my own arguments. If you were Spanish, I’d say that you would make an excellent attorney.”
“What is that?”
“An attorney? It’s a person who makes his living defending people from accusers. You have to be really good at logic and debate.”
Arazunú drew his eyebrows together in thought. “That sounds like what a good chief does. Would I be able to become an attorney?”
“You? Never.” The words were out before Se
bastian could take them back.
“Why not?”
Cheeks reddening, Sebastian stammered an answer. “It’s nothing against you, you know, but Indians can’t have positions like that. Honestly, Arazunú, I’m sorry. My people think your people are just good for farming and doing hard physical labor and brainless jobs like that.”
Arazunú, mounted on the other mare, stopped her mid-stride. “Do you believe that? Do you, Sebastian of the Spaniards, believe that my people are not smart enough to be your equals?”
Sebastian stopped his stallion also. His eyes were glazed with shame, but he answered. “I used to think that, my friend. But not anymore. I didn’t know any natives then. I do now, and I am sorry for my words. But,” he added, “not all my people think that way. There’s a man who may become governor of Asunción someday and he lived with Indians for ten years. He’s not a very… nice… person, but he wants to protect your people from being used.”
Arazunú was silent.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” said Sebastian. “It’s how I was raised. I’ve never really thought about it before.”
Still, Arazunú remained silent.
Sebastian tried again. “I’m really very sorry…”
“Shhh! I hear something.” Arazunú closed his eyes and tried to listen.
Try as he might, Sebastian could hear nothing.
In a voice so soft that it could have come from the wind itself, Arazunú spoke. “If you mean what you say about protecting Indians from your people, prove yourself now. There is a slave chain heading this way.”