Authors: Brenda Barrett
“This is beautiful,” he heard Ana gasp as they walked through the jungle that they called the land of Ananas - pineapples. Pineapples grew in a vast area intermingled with shrubs and flowers. Birds were everywhere, their colorful bodies flitting from flower to flower.
“I know where this is,” Ana whispered. “Ooh my, this is down the road from my parent’s house. If the village is there,” she looked up the hill at the huts scattered along it, then this must be close to where the Harvey-Blacks are building a guest house.”
Ana ran to the center of the greenery with their overhanging vines and the starkly bright flowers. “This whole spot is beautiful. Perfect. I could live right here,” she stomped her feet on the springy grass.
Orocobix laughed. She was finding such pleasure in the land that he always took for granted.
“What’s a guest house?” Lunta, one of his protectors asked. The young man was finding Ana’s joy infectious and he and the others had stopped and were laughing with her.
“It’s a house where people stay when they come from different places. They have to pay a fee.”
The confusion that was met by this statement was almost comical. Of course the Arawaks were not familiar with words such as fees and money. There goes my mouth again.
“Forget it,” Ana said, walking toward Orocobix. “How long will it take us to reach Maima?”
We will be there before darkness.”
“One whole day?” Ana asked startled. “I could drive to the Seville plantation from my house in an hour. My foot is killing me as it is”
“Ana,” Orocobix said and touched her hand. “Keep your voice down. The others will think you are not right in the head. You speak strangely.”
Ana laughed and then skipped away. She had never felt this free or this light-hearted before. Apart from her sore feet she was okay.
The material that could be called a skirt hugged her lower body and so she was not as self-conscious. Around her neck she wore a gold and shell necklace; it was the one she wore at the joining. She also wore the pouch that Basila had insisted she carry.
She had put body paint on her breasts in a bid to cover them. The greasy, colorful liquid had only enhanced her assets and she was told by her husband to take it off. Imagine that, possessive Taino males, even in a place where nudity was natural.
The sun was just coming over the horizon. Mountains were awakening in the distance as bursts of light penetrated the darkness of their peaks. That Jamaica was a veritable jungle made it all the more beautiful.
She grabbed a hibiscus flower and stuck it into the thick strands of her hair.
******
The once picture-perfect skies became imbued with dark clouds. They arrived at Maima drenched from the sudden downpour.
Ana was shocked when Orocobix said, “we are here.”
The Maima she had always envisioned was nowhere near the reality. In the future, the piece of land housed Seville Great House, where there was an old water wheel, an old sugar mill, and an old overseers house all protected by the National Heritage Trust. In the Great House there were exhibits on the Jamaicans that occupied the land over the years.
She almost laughed out loud at the change in landscape. The village began near the sea, which was nearer to the land in Taino time. Streams crisscrossed the landscape; she could see thin lines of water snaking here and there in the gray of the afternoon.
The village was about five times the size of the one at Beike, where Orocobix was the chief. The huts seemed larger and there were many different types of activities being performed. There were women who were working in the rain, their supple bodies wet as they hunched over their plot of land. They were using what looked like sharp sticks to bore holes in the ground. Men were dragging canoes from the sea, their slim, muscular bodies flexing as they strained against the big planks of wood; children were running around in the mud.
Ana stopped behind Orocobix, as one man, his forehead flatter than usual, grabbed him in an affectionate hug.
The alarm was raised that Orocobix had arrived and children and women along with their men gathered around them.
“Welcome,” she kept hearing, their friendly faces were wreathed in smiles and a baby was placed in Ana’s hand. Ana was perplexed she had no idea how to hold a baby but she grinned at the fat woman with the Caucasian looking features and held on tight to the squalling infant.
The woman did not look like an Indian and her baby’s forehead was not flattened, a custom she realized was not practiced as a rule, but more of a tradition.
Ana stared at the child in her hands, his dark eyes and curly brown hair hinted at a mixed nationality. She was confused, how could there be other races in this world. Surely, the Arawaks only encountered strangers, when Christopher Columbus came to the Caribbean with his men. She felt excitement flare through her as she thought of the historical significance of the plump woman standing in front of her and the brown haired baby in her arms.
Ana reluctantly handed back the baby to the woman who was standing before her and nodded.
There were a few people there who treated her with familiarity as if she was supposed to know them. Then she remembered Orocobix saying that she had lived at Maima too. More babies were plopped in her arms, their squirming wet bodies making her laugh.
Was this some kind of fertility ritual to put babies in the arms of a woman who was just joined? The people of Bieke hadn’t done that.
She pondered these questions as they proceeded slowly up to the largest hut. The hut was on a slope, there were jasmine trees around it and the sweet aroma of the blooms made its presence felt from where they were.
Rain and jasmines, maybe she could bottle and sell it. It was a terrific scent. She would always remember this time, when she smelt jasmines.
The hut was square and was about twice the size of Orocobix’s dwelling. There were colorfully clothed women at the front whose skirts were interspersed with gold, they had gold in their hair and intricate shells were interwoven in their hair .One girl had a tattoo on her arm, the blood red dye was in the shape of a flower.
“Oromico’s wives,” Orocobix whispered to her. “Yuisa is your family, the first wife.”
Ana nodded, grateful for the information. They all looked strange and distantly exotic. So that was how the wife of the Cacique should look. She was sure she didn’t have the dignity and the quiet strength of the women standing before her.
Oromico was a middle-aged man; he had many gold piercings in his nose and ears, and above his eyebrows, and feathers threaded a thick fist of plaited hair that hung to his waist. He was naked with the exception of two armbands; the bands were also decorated with gold.
“Peace,” he greeted Orocobix.
“Peace,” Orocobix replied.
Then he turned to her. His eyes were alight with laughter and interest, “the prophetess has returned. The Flower of Maima.”
Ana smiled shyly at him. He was obviously flamboyant and had a gregarious personality.
“I am displeased, Ana, that you would join with Orocobix when you could have been mine.”
“Leave her Oromico.” An older version of Tanama, stared at her. “How is everyone Ana?” She pressed Ana’s hand and smiled.
“They are fine,” Ana replied. She was not quite sure who she was answering about. The last time she saw her ‘family’, Tanama had given her the evil eye and Basila was busy weaving cotton.
Oromico led the way into the hut and everyone followed.
Orocobix grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “You are doing fine.”
Ana counted the women she followed. There were eight in all.
What was one man be doing with eight wives?
Obviously, Oromico was randy they were all young and shapely and in different stages of pregnancy.
******
There was a huge crowd during the evening meal. The interior was similar to that of Orocobix’s hut, except that their stools were better crafted with intricate patterns and shapes.
Most of the wives and their children sat on cloths that covered the dirt floor of the hut. There were at least three pots simmering with what Ana was coming to expect as the ever-present stew. She was fed from at least three different pots and she was offered bammy. The flat cassava cakes were delicious and hot. They were better than her mother’s. The original was definitely the best.
She refused the fish and the iguana stew but ate the cashew fruit and the pineapple that were in abundance. Orocobix sat on a stool beside Oromico and she sat at his feet content to be near him.
The various wives waited until all the men present were fed and then their female visitors before they sat down to eat. The ease at which they did this, suggested that it was a standard practice. The babies and young children sat in a corner and were attended to by one of the wives. She ran to assist those who needed assistance and hushed those children who were crying.
The open plan should have been noisier but the family was not very loud. When Oromico spoke there was a silence and only when he was finished speaking could whispers be heard or the occasional chuckle.
Ana felt eyes boring through her back and she shifted her position and stared into the liquid brown eyes of Guani, Oromico’s son, by his third wife. His eyes were deep-set and huge. They looked a little sad around the edges and he clutched a small dog in his hand as he stared at the proceedings.
He kept looking at Ana and she wondered why. He looked to be in his late teens, his voice had cracked in the introductions earlier and she judged him to be an awkward teen that seemed to have a crush on her. She realized instantly that he was different; unlike the others his forehead was not flattened. His features were youthful and handsome.
“He has a thing for you,” Yuisa whispered to Ana, as she looked in Guani’s direction. “He was too young to remember you when you left here and his mother fears for his health so he cannot go to Bieke.”
“What’s the matter with him?” Ana asked Yuisa, who seemed friendly.
“He gets tremors and then he is dead to the world. That’s why his head could not be flattened as a baby. The medicine man said it would not be good for him and now poor thing, he is ugly.”
Ana looked at Guani again. He would have been normal in her time and wouldn’t have seemed out of the ordinary.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It rained too frequently on the islands, Juan thought to himself as he went into his cabin after another unexpected downpour. He poured himself a brandy and sat at his desk, he had directed the offloading of most of the animals and the plants at their new settlement called Isabella. The natives were not very friendly anymore; he could sense the hostility seething underneath all the smiling faces.
Some of his men had gotten native girls embarazada. It was the norm for sailors to leave women at shore with children but he was not too pleased with the formation of the mixed races he was seeing right before his eyes, and the cavalier attitude of his men toward it. He decided to abstain from the nubile pleasures of the women for that reason; he was not too keen with leaving an offspring of his, in this primitive way of life.
“Vizconde Perez,” Colón stuck his head through the door and looked at Juan.
“Come on in,” Juan gestured to the chair opposite him and looked at the drawn features of Colón. He could swear that the man had not had so many gray hairs prior to his journey to the new world.
“What ails you?” Juan poured some brandy in his glass and Colón leaned back with a sigh, cradling the drink to his chest.
“I’m an explorer,” Colón lamented and looked at Juan, a vague expression in his eyes. “I always wanted to discover new lands and to see new things, but now that I have found the route to Asia, I would really like to do what I love best but my hands are tied. I promised the King and Queen that I would look after things here and get the place settled for Spain.”
Juan nodded understandingly.
“I am most angry that the men that I left here were killed, they were much better to handle than this batch. I really do not like these high-born noblemen.” He cleared his throat. “Except you, of course.”
Juan laughed, “I know what you mean Colón, no need to explain, I saw you struggling to tell Señor Halquez that servants were needed to build the fort and not attend to him.”
“We could let the natives do the work of course, but so far they do not understand us, probably with time they will make wonderful servants.”
“The natives look willing enough to do it. If you can curb their indiscipline they have no concentration at all.” He picked up his glass and took a sip of the wine, “I am about ready to leave here myself. I think this has been enough adventure for me. After I find the gold I’m going back to Spain. I now have enough stories to entertain the noble ladies at the Queen’s court, and I miss my family so much I could put up with a bit of cuddling from my mother and sisters.”
Colón smiled. “And especially from Condesa of Ripola, your lovely fiancé.
Juan grimaced, “she is my parents’ choice, not mine. My mother is determined that since Sofía is a Marquesa. I should marry someone of her station. My father wants her lands in the family, so he is quite willing to push it, but I have not found that woman yet that can keep me as smitten, as Beatriz Enriquez has kept you.”