When a Woman Rises

by Christine Eber

  I was embarrassed and didn’t know what to say. Mother had never mentioned a boy to me in the same sentence with marriage. I told her that I liked him, and I thought I would marry him if he came to ask for me.”

  “Good then,” my mother said. “We’ll see what happens.”

  But then something happened that shattered my happiness for a while. I remember that day so well because it was the second worst day of my life up until then, the first one being the day my parents came to San Cristóbal to take me back to Lokan.

  Dawn was still an hour away, and I was lying in bed listening to a high voice drifting over the mountainside. The boy was singing his petition as he came up the trail, and he was headed to my house! When he and his parents got as far as the níspero trees next to our house, the boy began to entreat my parents to wake up and let him and his parents into our house.

  I heard my mother gasp and tell my father to get up. She realized that something had gone terribly wrong! Just the week before, Victorio’s parents had invited my parents to drink sodas with them in the town center to prepare the way for Victorio to come on the first of the three visits he would make to ask my parents’ permission to marry me. We were all happy. The first visit of the joyol was scheduled for a week later to give Victorio time to finish making or borrowing money to buy the gifts he would deliver to my parents.

  We knew it couldn’t be Victorio coming up the trail. Then who could it be? I peeked through the cracks in the wall. It was still dark, but I could see that it was Bernabe, the boy I knew from grammar school who I talked about when I complained to Madre Ester that girls aren’t allowed to talk to boys before we marry. When I talked to Bernabe that day on the trail, I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t interested in marrying him. Who was he to think that he could ignore my wishes? Why didn’t his parents talk to mine first?

  When things like this happened in the past, sometimes the girl and her family escaped from the house and hid in the woods until the boy and his parents left. But we didn’t have time for that. My parents were sitting on the edge of their bed with their heads in their hands in a kind of frozen state. Then all of a sudden my mother bolted into action and told me to get up and help her make coffee for our guests.

  “Daughter, comb your hair, put your best blouse on,” she said.

  “But I don’t care how I look!” I told her. “I don’t want to marry this boy! You’ve got to tell him that I don’t want him. I’m waiting for Victorio.”

  “But what can we do? They’re almost at the door? I have to invite them in.”

  “I’ve heard that Bernabe drinks beer in the town center with the bus drivers, and his parents aren’t Believers. You don’t want me to marry a drunk who will beat me and make my life miserable, do you?”

  My mother gave me a look that said she knew that Bernabe would not be a good husband for me, but we didn’t have time to talk. I left things in my parent’s hands. As it turned out, they respected my wishes.

  “So, what happened, Mother? How did you get out of marrying Bernabe?” Verónica asked.

  “Do you really need to know this? What about the people who will read the book? Maybe Bernabe’s children will read it and be upset that I talked about his failed joyol.”

  Verónica hadn’t thought about what might happen if my words came out in a book. I think she thought that people of my generation in Chenalhó would never read the book. But now some of their children and grandchildren are going to high school and even university. Their teachers could have them read the book!

  I didn’t think that Bernabe’s children or grandchildren would be offended if they read the part about their grandfather, but that gave Verónica an idea. She suggested that we use false names for the people who weren’t that important in my story.

  “Well, I don’t know how these things are done, but if you think that will work, then I’ll tell you the story of Bernabe’s failed joyol. But then what will we do when I come to your uncle’s petition to marry Lucia?”

  “What!” Verónica exclaimed. I had never told her that my brother asked to marry Lucia. “I thought Lucia never wanted to marry and that young men didn’t want to marry her because she was a healer and wouldn’t be able to be a normal wife.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” I replied, “but Ricardo was different. He had always liked Lucia. Remember, he followed her failed attempt to go on in school and delivered her letter to Doña Dolores and brought Doña Dolores’ letter back to her. Not long before he and my parents went to see Carmela, Lucia came to our house to pray for him.

  “Ricardo had been trying to tie a load of wood on our horse’s back, but something scared the animal and he reared up. All the wood came spilling off his back and onto Ricardo, and then the horse’s hoofs came down on him too. When Ricardo finally returned that night, he could barely walk.

  “The next day he couldn’t get out of bed because his muscles wouldn’t work. Lucia prayed a long time for Ricardo and gave him some salve from a special plant to put on his joints and all over his arms and legs. It didn’t take long before the aches left his body, and he could sleep and work again. He fell in love with Lucia after that.”

  “Oh, dear God,” Verónica said. “How can we handle all these problems of offending people?” Verónica was still taking in the news that Ricardo had wanted to marry Lucia. She was staring off into space, her face pinched together, like she was trying to figure out how the threads would come together in a new design.

  I twirled the fringe on the edge of my shawl. I thought about how to help my daughter. Finally I came up with a solution.

  “Daughter, I won’t tell all the details of what happened with Bernabe, and when you write up my words, you can use a false name for him. As for your uncle, we can’t use a false name for him, but we don’t have to include the details of his joyol in Lucia’s story. I will give a short version for the tape recorder. Then you’ll turn it off, and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  I was starting to understand better than Verónica how to tell Lucia’s story! Verónica thanked me for solving our problem and said, “Now please tell me the story of Ricardo’s joyol! I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “First, we have to finish with Bernabe,” I said. “I’ll just give a brief report, so turn the machine on, and we’ll take care of that.” Verónica turned the recorder on, and I continued.

  When Bernabe and his parents were a few yards from the door, my father called for them to come into the house. I stood with my face to the wall and listened as Bernabe sat down beside my father, and Bernabe’s parents knelt before my father and mother to begin their request on their son’s behalf.

  Bernabe’s father knew how to use the high voice well. He told my father about the gifts that Bernabe had left outside the door to show their esteem for me and my parents and how their son was a good boy who would make a good husband for me.

  Finally my father interrupted them and said, ‘We’re very sorry for your wasted effort, but our daughter’s not ready to marry yet. She’s waiting for another to come.’ Bernabe’s parents kept petitioning and didn’t give up until finally my father interrupted them again. They paused and then Bernabe’s father said that he could see that they should not have come, because, although their son was a respectful and hardworking boy, I wasn’t ready to marry. Then they thanked my mother for the coffee and for listening to their request and got up. Bernabe got up too.

  I had turned around by then and held my shawl over my mouth to hide my embarrassment for myself, Bernabe, and our parents. I didn’t look at him. After he said goodbye to my parents, he went outside and put the case of soda on his back, the gift that he had hoped to give my parents to ensure that they would welcome him on the next visit.

  But there wouldn’t be another visit.

  Although I was relieved, my heart ached for Bernabe and all the boys who go through great effort and expense to ask for a girl, only to be sent away.

  “Now, turn off the tape recorder, daughter, and I�
�ll tell you the sad story of Ricardo’s request to marry Lucia.”

  Verónica obeyed me and turned all her attention to me as I repositioned myself in my chair and readied myself to continue.

  Lucia and I talked often about my desire to marry and her wish to never marry. We both knew that no boy would come to ask to marry Lucia because he couldn’t count on Lucia to be around all the time because of her cargo. Still, I felt sad for Lucia and wondered if she ever regretted that she would never have a companion, except her mother. When I asked her, she said, “No, I’m not sad at all not to marry. It’s not my destiny. The only thing that worries me is what will happen to me when my mother is gone, and I’m old. Who will take care of me if I don’t have any children?”

  “My children will take care of you,” I told her. “They’ll be like your children, and you’ll be my children’s godmother, if you want to be.”

  “Of course, I do! Did I tell you that me’ max has been teaching me about how to help women give birth? I’ve gone to a few births with her and I’ve already learned a lot. I can attend you when your babies are born.”

  “That would make me very happy,” I said.

  Between the time that Bernabe came to my house and Victorio came a week later, Ricardo got it into his head to petition Carmela to marry Lucia. My parents weren’t unhappy about his choice. After all, Carmela was Ricardo’s godmother, but his timing was very bad. My parents had just recovered from Bernabe’s visit and were waiting for Victorio’s joyol to begin. Without our knowing, Ricardo had used some of the money he made working in Cancún to buy gifts for the first visit of joyol.

  I remember the day when Ricardo told my parents about his plans. He had just come in from the fields and was drinking matz with my father by the fire. He seemed nervous and moved a lot in his chair. Finally he said, “Mother, Father, I want you to help me go to my godmother’s house to ask to marry her daughter. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I’ve already bought the gifts.”

  My father was the first to respond, “But, son, haven’t you thought about what it will be like to be married to one who heals? You won’t be able to count on your wife to help you in the fields, and she won’t always be home to make your matz or your tortillas.”

  “But that’s not a problem for me. Before there were girls in our family, I helped mother make matz and tortillas. I helped around the house too. I haven’t forgotten what the madres told us in the courses, that men should help women more with their work around the house and with the children. I heard them, and I’m ready to do it. You see, I’ve known Lucia my whole life. It’s almost like she’s my sister, but my feelings for her are more than that. I want her to be my wife and to share my life with me.”

  My mother then said to Ricardo, “If this is something your heart really wants, then we won’t stand in your way. It would be a great help to Carmela if you were to marry Lucia. But couldn’t you wait until after Victorio does the first visit of his joyol for your sister?”

  My mother’s request was reasonable, but when Ricardo got something in his head he couldn’t get it out, and he was also very impatient. He was already twenty-three, past the age when most boys marry. After he dropped out of middle school, he helped my father in the fields, but he wanted to make some money so he left for Cancún to work as a bricklayer’s assistant building hotels.

  My parents didn’t want him to leave, but the price of coffee was very low. They were worried about where they would find the money to buy the corn they couldn’t grow, so they agreed to let him leave for six months.

  While he was in Cancún, my brother saved his money instead of drinking it up with the other workers. When he came home, he had enough to help our family and also to buy some of the gifts for his joyol. He told my parents that he had been thinking about Lucia the whole time he was gone and had decided that, when he got home, he would ask them to help him petition to marry her.

  If I was sad for Bernabe, I felt really sad for my brother because I knew Lucia would reject him, and I didn’t know how he would react with his heart set on marrying her. He never asked me anything about Lucia even though he knew we were best friends. If he had, I could have told him that she didn’t want to marry.

  I wished it wasn’t true, because I would have loved to have Lucia as my sister-in-law and to see Carmela and Lucia have the help they so badly needed. With his inheritance from my parents, Ricardo would have land for a milpa, and Lucia and her mother wouldn’t have to work in other people’s fields for their food. They would never be hungry again.

  The day Ricardo announced his plans, I didn’t tell your uncle anything. I was his little sister, and he didn’t think I had any opinions worth listening to. Even though he was a good person to everyone else, with me he always had to show he was better and smarter.

  But of course, I went right away to Lucia’s house. When I arrived, Lucia and her mother were just getting back from the water hole. I must have looked distressed because Carmela asked me if anything was wrong. I said everything was fine, but that I needed Lucia to come with me to check on my brother’s bull that was tethered on land near their house. I walked behind Lucia on the trail and was grateful not to see her face as I told her about Ricardo.

  “Something bad is going to happen, Lucia. My brother wants to marry you, and he’s going to start the joyol soon.”

  Lucia stopped and whirled around. Her mouth and eyes fell open as if she’d just seen a ghost, like the day she came to school after her cargo dream.

  “No, no, no! This can’t be happening.” Lucia kept repeating these words while we stood on the path. Then, just as suddenly as she stopped, she grabbed my hand and pulled me off the path to a grove of trees. She collapsed onto the ground and waited for me to sit down beside her. Then she tried to explain to me the real reason why she could never marry. I listened and heard Lucia tell me things about herself that I knew in my heart, but hadn’t admitted to myself.

  “I can’t marry. I’m not like other women. You see, I’m not attracted to men. I don’t have feelings for a man like you have for Victorio. My heart doesn’t flutter when I’m near a man. When we were in school I didn’t even have a crush on a boy! I’ve never wanted to think about how it would feel to be married, to sleep with a man. I don’t know why this is so, but it’s how I am. Ricardo is a good man, he’s your brother, and he’s my mother’s godson, but I can’t marry him—or any other man. I don’t want to hurt Ricardo, but I can’t marry him.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t met the man who will make you happy,” I said. I didn’t really believe this, but I didn’t know what else to say because I couldn’t imagine life without a husband.

  “No,” said Lucia, more strongly this time, “I don’t think there is a man in the world who could make me happy like that.”

  As Lucia’s words sunk into me, I realized that I had never tried to picture Lucia married. She didn’t seem to need anyone that much—not even me, her mother, or Hilario when he was alive. She walked on the mountain trails in the dark without fear. When she prayed, she communed with powerful spiritual beings. She didn’t have to work her life around another person, except for her mother. She wasn’t like any other girl I knew. Why should I be surprised that she didn’t want to be a wife and mother?

  But Lucia’s words still troubled me because they meant she would never feel a man’s warmth beside her at night. She would never have the soft bodies of her own babies and children to hold. We would continue to grow into womanhood differently and would not share the same feelings about many things. I had to accept that with each decision she made, Lucia was making herself increasingly more different from me and most women in Lokan.

  After I talked to Lucia, I went and talked to Ricardo. I told my brother that Lucia would never marry, that no man could convince her to marry him. But he didn’t believe me. He told me I didn’t know what I was talking about. But then he changed his tone of voice and talked to me as he never had before or since, like a compañera
, not a sister.

  He said to me, “Little sister, you don’t know what it’s like in the cities. When I was in Cancún, I saw all kinds of beautiful women, from all over the world. Some had blonde hair and their lips were painted bright red. They were like strange and beautiful birds. At first, I looked at them a lot. I wondered how it would be to marry one of them. But they wouldn’t even look at me. Or if they glanced my way, they would look straight through me. Indigenous men like me are invisible to them. Finally, I got tired of feeling that I didn’t exist and stopped looking at them.

  “Then my thoughts turned to the girls in Lokan, how beautiful they are in their traditional clothes and their long black hair. But when I thought about girls in Lokan, I kept thinking about Lucia. I thought about how she moves when she walks and how she looks when she’s praying, how her hands feel when she’s curing. She healed all of us in our family many times. Who knows if we’d still be alive if it weren’t for her knowledge and power. She keeps the traditions, but she isn’t afraid to defend what she wants and believes, even if it isn’t what people understand, like when she ran away to San Cristóbal.

  “I couldn’t find a better wife in Lokan or anywhere else. I want to stay here and follow in father’s footsteps. Life is too hard in the city. People don’t have respect for anything, except money. I made money in Cancún to help our family and to buy gifts to ask to marry Lucia, but that’s all I was there for. You see, my heart has been yearning for Lucia for a long time, and I want her for my wife. I have to try to marry her, even if she rejects me. At least she’ll know that there’s a man who wants her and who will work hard for her and her mother.”

  After Ricardo finished, it was clear to me that nothing would change his mind and that no one could save him from the humiliation he was sure to feel when Lucia rejected him. I felt powerless to do anything to help my brother or Lucia.