Chapter 31
Pisco was on her way to Supay. This would be the last day of her little ritual of making yuca but the dream that she had the night before was on her mind. Pisco expected Supay to have fled or been killed before her time. She ran up the stairs in near certainty that she would find an empty room. It was with relief and surprise that she found Supay sitting down, eating a luxurious meal by herself.
'Pisco?' said Supay, rather listlessly. She had been eating a lot already, but even with the fullness she continued to eat. 'What are you doing here?'
'I thought - I didn't -'
'They're not here. Since this is my last day, there's no need for anyone to make yuca for me. '
'Sorry,' said Pisco, ready to bow out when Supay called out.
'But you come here though, and make some more if you want. We can't have enough yuca, I guess, since it lasts long, never spoiling. You can make some more for the next sacrifice.'
Pisco hesitated a little and then walked over to sit next to Supay. There was a perpetual bowl of cassava root there along with empty jars. A thought of who had put them there crossed her mind. She grabbed one of the roots.
'There are so many jars of yuca around but you can't have too many,' started Supay in a soft voice, almost to herself. 'You never know how much you end up needing. These sacrifices never stop. I drank some that was left over from my sister's. It tastes the same, better even. So you keep doing it,' said Supay, lost in her thoughts, in a voice that was close to a warble. 'Something you're proud of doing…and you have people proud of you for that, proud of you, how you are now, or if not, will be proud of what you will become. Me, this is all I will be, and my parents…I don't think they're proud…but why wouldn't they be? Isn't this the best that anyone could hope for? What greater purpose could there be? Were they proud of my elder sister, the first sacrifice, or is it just me that they.... maybe, probably, even, I'm sure that they were. It's because I'm the second,' said Supay sadly, picking up a glass of yuca. 'Pride and joy is reserved only for the first.'
Pisco was watching her with the root on her lips considering if she should do what she was told and make some yuca. But she may be asked a direct question soon, how would she be able to respond if she was busy chewing? So Pisco kept the cassava root just at the tip of her upper lip, and her mouth free, to look like she was about to do as she was told, not really doing it...
'I wonder if they meant for this drink to be for the next sacrifice, or for my sister. You're making something for my younger sister now, did you know that ? I have not drank a single thing you guys have made. My little sister, have you seen her? There's no doubt she'll drink the yuca you've made, just so you know, maybe you already know, just like I drank the yuca made for my sister - maybe by your sister. Hey, did your sister make yuca too?' Supay asked with a sudden surge of excitement. 'Wouldn't it be funny if she did? Wow, it would be amazing if she did! It seems like; it's so funny how these things end up. It's like wearing a dress made years in advance, before you even reached that shape, knowing that you will reach that shape, at that exact time, that exact shape! Like there were no other shapes I could be this moment in time. Doesn't it feel strange, living according to what it was imagined it would be, years before it would be. It's not even imagining but knowing. It was known years ago, before I even walked my first steps that I would be here, in this place at this time. The future's laid out. Living a life that's been laid out makes me feel funny. Do you feel that?'
Pisco thought about it for a moment and did think that she felt something like angst or exhilaration. She nodded her head. Supay didn't see it.
'I swear these past weeks since I've been here I've been having the most wonderful dreams - all about my past. Not a single thought about the future, creating things that could happen. The future's been dead to me, and the past lives forever, and these dreams are deep in the past. Everyone else is stuck in the future…while I'm free in the past. You ever think about the future? Ever have dreams - no you don't. Look at your dark circles. You've become like everyone else, trying to create futures in your dreams, and it's not -'
'Oh! I had a dream last night,' said Pisco, lowering the cassava root.
Supay stared at her, momentarily lost for words.
'Your head came out of my mouth.'
'Wh -'
'I think it was the day of sacrifice - that's the future. I slept deep in that nightmare.'
'Nightmare? My day of sacrifice?'
'Yeah. A bunch of statues were eating different parts of you. And me, the head.'
Supay looked at her in bemused bewilderment.
'I don't know what that dream is supposed to mean. It was a nightmare because it's awful but then again I hadn't slept that well for a long time.'
'My severed limbs in the mouths of statues,' Supay said musingly. 'And were you a statue too?'
Pisco shook her head, putting the cassava root near her mouth again.
'Moving statues chewing -'
'Underwater.'
'That too! All of stone except you…what did I taste like?'
Pisco rubbed the top of her bottom teeth for a moment with her index finger and then smiled.
'Of cassava.'
'Haha!'
'Dry you mean! Haha. Dry like a vegetable, like an old lady. Haha. My last day on earth and that makes me the oldest person alive, since everyone will outlast me. Haha! I taste dry. Like an old lady! Haha! Weird dream, still…you must be nervous about the sacrifice. Are you scared of tomorrow?'
Pisco after a pause nodded her head.
'Why? What do you think is going to happen? Damn. Now I'm nervous! Haha! What did they tell me about what's going to happen? They said that all it would be was …'
Chapter 32
The midwife assumed her role at a young age, at twenty four, a mother of three children. At that time, her aunt had been the midwife, but she had become unwell, and felt it wise to pass the duty to someone with more longevity. She decided to train her niece who had always had a fascination with births, always asking to accompany her aunt, pestering her even, but was always glowered down. Voyeurism at childbirth was scandalous to even suggest. The soon to be midwife had to satisfy herself with animals and birds, watching a nest from a safe haven, just so she could see an egg hatch, delighting her more than the childish play that her friends were content with. Many a lamb had been born around those parts with her by its side. Finally, she was able to see a human birth, that of her own child, and with a queer concentrated look on her face she stared at every one of her children as they came out of her, not with love or maternal feeling but with fascination. Her aunt's infirmity and resignation came as a surprise to her but she took her new role with devotion. She swore off marital relations to focus on the children of hers she already had, and the children of others she would help give birth to.
Her aunt gave her some advice:
'A midwife's triumph is not to see a child be born, but to see the child stay alive. Otherwise what's the point? You'll see many children be born in this village which has an obsession with sacrifice and we have to deal with that and use this singular act of creation in our favour. Not one person from our family has been lost to sacrifice and I want you to keep it that way.'
This information stunned her momentarily and she hadn't realised its truth. But after reflection she saw it was the case.
'Lost to sacrifice? Don't you mean given in sacrifice?'
'No. Lost. Lost! Don't be a fool now! I've seen my fair share of children die in child birth and I could never see it as a real sacrifice. You don't give children away in sacrifice. You kill them for no reason. Well, so be it. Let them do it, but not from our family. Remember that the first words of any child are the midwife's and one has to utter these words to suit our family. What do you want, you want your child to die?'
'To die? Is sacrifice death?'
'Yes. Twice over! The true measure of a midwife is to ensure children have a chance at life. None of the children belonging to our family must be allowed to be sacrificed. As for the others…you can play favourites.'
She was easily persuaded and began to accompany her aunt to births, not as a voyeur but as an apprentice. Yet still, her habits remained. Her aunt admonished her.
'Stop looking funny every time you see a child come out. I thought it was just a thing with your own births but you do it with everyone. That must stop. You're making everyone uncomfortable. A midwife can't make people uncomfortable when their presence is to give comfort.'
Her last words were that she should split herself to be at every birth if necessary, and she answered by saying she would do so for despite her mien changing, her fascination did not.
Fifty years passed and she had seen every birth at Heaven's Bridge and not a single child belonging to her family had been sacrificed, the true measure of a midwife in Heaven's Bridge, to ensure children have a chance at life, their own family's children, that is, according to the rules her aunt had established. However there came a moment when she began to doubt herself.
Huayta's baby died in her arms. This, she had never seen before, nor expected, and frankly, did not think possible, and the initial feelings were not of sorrow but of perplexity. She had to cast a glance back at the dead baby. A strange sensation, she decided, an evil feeling, this glimmer of self doubt, her fascination for the birth of children did not extend to the death of children.
The next few child births brought anxiety for all those involved due to the death of a baby but she tried to set the mothers at ease with her steady voice, her still hands, and the births went off without a hitch. Naturally, she said to herself and others. How else could it be?
All concerned hoped that this business of child deaths in Heaven's Bridge was over, a ghastly occurrence, unprecedented. Then came Huayta's second birth and death. Now the views of the midwife and Huayta began to change inversely. The midwife started to absolve herself, since twice in the row, and the solitary children dead in childbirth, meant that in her eyes that the problem lied with the mother and not the midwife. Huayta however decided that the midwife's presence was somehow responsible, and since the midwife was the first person to handle the baby, had the suspicion that she might even have broken her throat through malpractice or malevolence. She even accused her of this directly.
'How did you grab the baby?' she demanded to know, her eyes having lucid clarity despite still wet with the sweat of childbirth.
'The same way I grabbed every other baby in this village,' the midwife replied back indignantly, the dead baby still in her hands.
'Give me my baby. Lemme see if you broke something.'
'See for yourself,' replied the midwife, handing the baby to its mother for her to bury.
The midwife left the house, troubled, despite her attempts at attaining a clear conscience. Did she do something wrong? She went through her memory. No. She did everything according to how it should have been. But this did not ease her trouble as the idea that the universe would be targeting one woman twice over made her shudder at the injustice or yet, made her consider for what crime it was exacting justice for. She shuddered at both.
Then Huayta's third birth came. The midwife hesitated when she heard the baby was being born, something unusual to her, because she had heard that Huayta did not want her to be there, and the desires of the mother made her reconsider her presence. However, she went anyway as she might be needed. There was a part of her that wanted to see the child alive in her hands to vindicate herself and give the living child to the mother, a midwife's triumph. And surely she said to herself that two babies were enough. No, two babies were not enough and Huayta froze when she saw the midwife as Amaru held in her shaking hands the third dead baby. Fury unknown was staring at the midwife, as if Huayta already knew that the baby had been dead without looking at it; while the midwife took a long look at the child, and then sighed, shaking her head, leaving them once again the same way she had twice before. She shouldn't have come, she said to herself, as now they would blame her for this death, even if the baby was dead before she had arrived. She knew she could count on Amaru to see it that way even if Huayta never would accept it. The midwife's lot is nothing but accusation, she decided, but that was a burden she would have to bear; and really, what was Huayta's punishment to do with her? This was not a blemish on her faultless record, but the judgement of someone else.
Now her retirement was coming to hand, and she would need a successor, and would keep her eye out for those who had the same fascination with childbirth and the same strength of character to deal with accusations. One thing was for sure. Her tenure as midwife was successful, despite those child deaths. Not a single member of her family had been offered to sacrifice despite so many being so beautiful, far more beautiful than anyone else. She cackled with triumph and delight every time she thought about this.
Chapter 33
It was night-time, the night before the sacrifice. Screams were heard in Amaru's house but not all those in this house were distressed, certainly not. At night when a baby cries, there's not a single parent who doesn't grumble, cursing the constant need for affection that a baby needs, for it is to the detriment of their parents, who would like peace and quiet when they try to sleep. Someone always has to get up and cuddle the baby so that it feels safe and protected enough to fall asleep again, replicating a mother's womb, sometimes multiple times a night. But the crying baby in Amaru's arms made her happy; indeed, she had none of that night time disgruntlement about her. The baby was crying, screaming even, but the mother was happy, pleased because she could see disfigurement all over the baby's face. Even Maita, sitting with his back against the wall, could hardly contain his pleasure. There are many a sleepless night with a baby, frustrating horrible labour, which is tolerable only if you know you will see its fruits spread before you. In his mind Maita already saw a fully grown child of his before him, something that justifies the care that parenthood exhorts. He could not contain the animation in his face which pleasure created, but still, he made mechanical noises of protest.
'I do not like her interference in business that does not concern her,' he began, sternly. 'I've told her before that it is an honour to be allowed to give one's child away. Here she is, damaging our chances with an act of madness. I am in mind to whip up the village! Only, if she wasn't pregnant herself, maybe I would have done so…'
'She's reckless, without a doubt,' said Amaru, smiling, lovingly caressing the screaming child. She was tracing the burgeoning crimson mark that covered its right eye, cheek and three quarters of its nose. There were traces on its chin too, of poisoned skin.
'It's not contagious?' asked Maita, looking at Amaru brushing the baby's cheek. Both of their voices were raised to overpower the screams of the baby.
'No. Ayara wasn't harmed and she was always caressing the boy.'
'Such a strange thing. Poison that doesn't kill but disfigures. A stone fish. Who would have thought such things exist. When she threw that fish I thought she had thrown a rock!'
'Me too. Haha!'
Maita laughed too. They were both happier than had been for a long time. Maita got up to get closer to Amaru and stood next to her, arm around her, smiling down at the baby while bathing in its screams.
'Looks like it's stopping before it takes over the nose.'
'I don't think I could have withstood another twelve years with a dying child,' Amaru said suddenly, her voice trembling. 'And then to see them happy to die.'
Maita didn't glance at her but squeezed her shoulder.
'It was terrible,' he agreed. 'But now we have one that will bury us. The natural order of things. The children must bury their parents. At least one of their children must. I thought we would never even have one to bury us.'
'Bless Huayta, and her genius. And her fortitude. She deserves a child that will bury her too.'
Maita said nothing. He was uncomfortable. Huayta truly was fearless and reckless but had three dead children. What type of woman only gives birth to dead children, he and others asked themselves many times over. A guilty one they had decided.
'Yes. She deserves what is owed to her,' he said coolly.
'She's a good woman and being made to pay for - what ? I despise these sacrifices.'
'Now, now..'
'Worthless! She's right. What good has it ever done us? And for her, it's even worse. Some of us make more sacrifices than others. Some of us are the only ones who make sacrifices at all. And really, sacrifice something because you like it so much, blessed to have it? It's like you've just been given the most precious jewel and then you give it away immediately, or is taken away rather, with sleight of hand to be crushed; in the same way when the village has been given new beauty and once noticed, destroyed immediately for the sake of …gratitude. Grateful for what?'
'Heaven's Bridge still exists and is going strong! We should be grateful for that at least.'
'Our family has been coming out of it the worst.'
'Maybe it will end now,' Maita said, touching the wailing baby. 'Maybe our sacrifices will end now and the last one will finish it.'
'If I'm asked to make another sacrifice, I swear I'll make the truest one, the last one left to me. No more will I give, before I give myself.'
'You have already given yourself. Every sacrifice means to sacrifice oneself.'
Amaru pushed herself closer to Maita, snuggling under his arm, while watching their baby, ignorant of the fact that poison affects people differently, that some live only with a disfigurement and that others take the mark with them screaming to the graves.
