Gardens Don't Grow in Rivers E-Book

Gabriela Santana

• Herausgeber: Trópico de Escorpio
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 166

Beschreibung

Fourteen-year-old Paulina faces different situations that destroy her home environment and force her, just a teenager, to become the main source of income in her family amidst the agitation of post-revolutionary Mexico. What's more, she needs to deal with her capacity to discover and to question the world around her. Paulina's left-wing and feminist sympathies are shown in the story, which leads her to rub shoulders with important figures in the arts and politics of her time; in turn, those ideas affect her decisions when it comes to love. She always rejects the easy way out and the scheme of values that middle-class members continue to defend to this day.

Leseprobe

Gardens Don't Grow on RiversOriginally published in Spanish under the title: Un río no es un jardín

First published in paperback by Trópico de Escorpio, México 2014 ©Trópico de Escorpio Copyright ©2014 Gabriela Santana English translation copyright © 2015 David Aréyzaga Santana www.davidareyzaga.com

All right reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form, without written permission from the publishers.

Type setting and cover Karina Flores

For information about this please contact Trópico de Escorpio www.tropicodeescorpio.com.mx  Trópico de Escorpio

ISBN: 978-607-9281-97-7

Heurística Informática, Procesos y Comunicación Objetiva

Contents

Gardens Don't Grow on Rivers

Gardens Don't Grow on Rivers

Prologue

Francisco

The man of the house

Selflessness

The journey

Artemio Carrillo

Truths from the blood

The bank

Red slippers

Madonna lilies

Arturo

Acceptance

Chapala

An agreement

Confirmation

Expecting

Waiting

A name

Omar

Aquellos ojos verdes

The peacock garden

Epilogue

Authors' Bios

Prologue

Fourteen-year-old Paulina faces different situations that destroy her home environment and force her, just a teenager, to become the main source of income in her family amidst the agitation of post-revolutionary Mexico. What’s more, she needs to deal with her capacity to discover and to question the world around her. An assiduous reader, an attentive listener, ever curious, and thoughtful Paulina has the great ability to transform her ideals and deepest feelings into actions. She discovers and exerts such an amount of freedom—in a time where it seemed almost impossible—, that even young women today would find enviable, and she does it so naturally that it’s moving. Her drive shows great strength beneath the doubts, while her need to construct and understand herself as an adult woman, leads readers to sympathize with her errors.

While the story takes place during the 20s and 30s, its themes are timeless: identity, love, freedom, justice… They address the roots of our humanity while showing the essence of someone different from us, and bringing us in. We experience the suffering and frustration of a woman seeking happiness, a woman who can’t bear the persisting idea around her that such happiness is second to the needs and opinions of men. We see this, for instance, in Paulina’s mother, Rosa, who constantly and insidiously defends the privileges of Francisco, Paulina’s brother.

Paulina’s left-wing and feminist sympathies are shown in the story, which leads her to rub shoulders with important figures in the arts and politics of her time; in turn, those ideas affect her decisions when it comes to love. She always rejects the easy way out and the scheme of values that middle-class members continue to defend to this day. She has no interest in formal and boring suitors, who bear their last name as an offering in exchange for obedience and abnegation; much less in the idea of marriage as a means to economic safety. Life, just like a river, jolts her forward, and yet she chooses valiantly when to hold on to something, and, more importantly, when to let go.

Paulina never renounces her quest for ideal love. The problems, deceives, and breakups with her different partners; the doubts that haunt her role as a woman and a mother; and her whims and fears, only reaffirm and polish her concept of love, which reaches an incredibly poetic intensity at the end of the story.

Like all great literary characters, Paulina grows on the reader slowly but firmly in an almost imperceptible way. She is the kind of woman who doesn’t settle for going with the flow. She creates her path despite the suffering she might face. A moon woman, a matriarch, a mother of rivers, a pioneer of a line of independent women, and a sincere lover. Who wouldn’t want to meet such a woman?

César A. Hernández Coria

Francisco

Francisco let out a resounding burp. Paulina guffawed at her father, and Rosa was anything but pleased, yet her stern look didn’t dissuade her daughter from turning her back. The message was more than clear: in a hostile word, the only people Paulina and her father needed were each other.

Francisco stood up from the table. “Rosa, as usual, your food was delicious. When did you learn that recipe?” he asked.

Rosa didn’t answer, she stared at the plates and shrugged. Paulina saw her mother’s silence as an opportunity to ask her father if they could go to the river.

“That girl turned out just like you,” Rosa said. “She should’ve been a boy, but even little Paco does not behave like her. Already fourteen, and far from a gracious young lady! A smart one, she thinks herself. She even wants to be a lawyer.”

Francisco ignored her bitter comment. “Take a hat, sweet girl. I’ll saddle up the smartest mule we have.”

“Oh, Francisco, will you let her go like that? In her slip? She’ll look like a soldadera!” Rosa said.

“Mom, I’m wearing underpants!” Paulina said. She didn’t mind looking like a wild woman from the Revolution, and if that would keep her away from her mother’s rant, so be it. Her father was already outside waiting for her.

Paulina held the reins with uncertainty. The mule was smart enough to move slowly while they walked over the pebble road, not that it made her happy, as evidenced by her angry snorts. They reached the hillside of San Felipe.

Their pace became steadier over the red dirt road. The enticing aroma of long grass attracted the mule. She wanted to walk among the tress. A branch hit Paulina’s face. Francisco heard his daughter’s complains. He got down and whispered something in the mule’s ear. Whatever he said worked; the mule behaved herself the rest of the way.

Paulina saw a tributary ahead. She tried to avoid the water puddles upon which hundreds of butterflies had gathered. This seemed to disconcert the mule who only wanted to drink some water from the stream.

Francisco and Paulina got off the saddles in a quick movement.

“Look, child,” he said. “I got you a poetry book. I want you to read Sor Juana. She was ahead of her time, just like you.”

The young girl blushed after hearing that compliment. She took the book, and opened it at a random page. She began to read:

Stop, shadow of the elusive gift, Of my beloved charm, a sight, Fair illusion for which Igladly die, Sweet fiction for which I sadly live.

The poem was seductive. She read the rest of it in silence.

“He might not love her, but she doesn’t care!” she said.

“Why do you say that?” Francisco asked.

“Read this, father! She says he shouldn’t feel so pleased about evading her.”

If you evade my arms and bosom, it matters not, My fantasy has built a prison.

“Well, sometimes—” her father paused, then added. “The ideal lover is a shadow, an illusion. This is the poem of a self-sufficient woman. Speaking of shadows, why don’t we sit under that walnut tree? Put your feet in the water, child. Mosquitoes won’t bother us.”

Paulina found a ladybug as her feet got wet.

“Father, look. It doesn’t want to climb up my hand. I guess I won’t be lucky.”

“That’s nonsense! Only foolish people aren’t lucky. Don’t ever forget it,” he said, matter-of-factly.

There was something else Paulina wanted to talk about.

“Yesterday, I heard yelling in the house, father.”

He laughed. “Would you like us to read together?” he asked.

“Yes, but please do tell.”

Their feet were steady under the water. Little fish came nearby.

“Darn it, I brought nothing for them,” he said, pointing at the water.

“Come on, father, tell me.” Paulina splashed her feet, and the fish swam away.

“Sometimes men can be real bastards, my girl. I happened to arrive very late because I lost track of time while playing poker with some feds. They knew my father had been a rector here in Oaxaca. They even mentioned they were friends with Porfirio Díaz to get some money out of me, but I get along with everyone. After all, I’ve been a judge in a good amount of pueblos. I support whomever I have to when I have to. Carranza for example, I did when I had to, and now I don’t because I’m not supposed to do so. I get people married. I register their kids. That’s my strategy. Anyway, we played several rounds. There was wine, and a few ladies were there too. You’re not old enough to understand that.”

“Wasn’t Don Miguel yelling?” Paulina asked.

Francisco couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Life’s a luxury, my child. Sometimes it movies quite slowly. Doña Rosa didn’t hesitate to tell my father what I had done, and, well, if I’m a bastard, your grandfather is twice as much. Don Miguel took his belt and gave me hell. Didn’t you notice how hard it was for me to sit on the mule?”

“But, father, you’re already an adult. How could you allow that?”

“Well, your grandfather promised Rosa he would always protect her, and that’s how he keeps his word. She was already alone when we got married, so he became more of a father to her than he had ever been to me. That’s why I don’t have to worry about you.”

The group of fish returned to Paulina’s feet. She leaned on her father’s shoulder.

“Mom only lived with my grandma, didn’t she? She told me something about it once. I think she managed to give you my mother’s hand in marriage before she died.”

“Yes, and we didn’t even know each other,” he said.

“Is it true you had a beautiful wedding in the temple of Santo Domingo?”

“Maybe you should ask your mother about that. I don’t know about weddings, but the military from the university did show up. They stood together on each side to make a wall so the bride could walk between them. Imagine, all that for a less than five feet thing!”

Both laughed with the roaring sound of happiness, one that could overcome any obstacle.

That joy, everything, it was all coming from them, but also from the fresh water, the shadow of the tree, the butterflies.

“And my mother was actually the daughter of a landowner?”

“That’s what she tells, doesn’t she?” he said. “No. Her grandfather was the landowner. Her father was a Spaniard who was kicked out after messing around with your grandmother, the young lady of the house. Imagine the scandal. Then that sorry-ass Spaniard became a storekeeper.”

“Oh, you say that because you’re mean. You haven’t stopped joking all day.”

“Well, it’s the truth, but don’t tell your mother I said it. I mean, how on Earth did a Creole girl accept to marry a poor and old mixed race man like me? You turned out so beautiful. Unlike her, and unlike me.” He stroked her cheek.

“I’m a lot like you. We enjoy the same things,” she said.

“Sounds more like you’re the only one who can keep up to my pace from one site to the next, and in such a dangerous country like this! Haven’t we lived everywhere in Mexico?” he asked.

“Not in the North, we haven’t. I’ve never been there, but you have.”

“Oh dear, my little girl is such a grown-up now. You’re almost fifteen! Those nasty feds left me without savings after playing poker, but I’ll make money for your little party, Paulina,” he said. Then he remembered something else. “How is your brother behaving?”

“Little Paco doesn’t help at all, and mother never complains.” She frowned.

“Oh, Paco. We forgot to invite him! That boy sure needs a good dose of sunlight. He’s kind of scrawny, don’t you think?”

Paulina smiled, but then she looked gravely at Francisco.

“Father, I’m always worried. How are you able to move around in these dangerous paths, filled with highwaymen and armed groups, and still be safe and sound?”

“Someone once told me I was never alone, that the blessed souls in purgatory were always by my side, like an escort.” He was about to laugh again, but sound never came out of his mouth. Instead, he put his hand on his left arm.

“Your mother’s concoction was rather heavy. What was it?”

“Loin with annatto, why?” Paulina asked, concerned.

“I think I had too much.”

“Let me get you a lemon.” Paulina stood up to get one from a nearby tree. Suddenly, birds went silent, and water stopped running. She put her hands in her ears, and went back to look for her father. He had also become quiet. So very quiet.

Francisco was lying on the ground. His feet were still inside the water.

The man of the house

Paulina let the lemons fall. She ban towards her father. A rude fly was flying next to him. She swiped it away, wishing the damned bug could die.

“Father, please wake up! What’s happening? Please, say something.” She shook him using all her might without any success. “I need you to get up. Please help me get you up!”

She ran from side to side, leaning on the branches of trees. Not a single soul was around her.

One moment to the next, her voice had faded. She sat down, and leaned her head on Francisco’s lap. The fly insisted on returning, but she wouldn’t let it stay.

“It’s getting cold,” she said to herself. “I need to get him on the mule.” She dried the tears from her face, and spoke to her father. “You know what? I can’t see a thing.”

After many attempts to lift Francisco, she realized his body was too big for her to carry.

She was agitated, but didn’t hesitate to find another way to solve the problem. She found some wood planks that once worked as a bridge, or at least she assumed they did. She dragged one of the planks to the edge of the stream.

It took all her strength to roll the body until it was on top of the plank. Her underpants turned out to be useful. She tied Francisco to the mule in order to drag him without hurting him. The other mule had to stay tied to the walnut tree.

“Please forgive me, father. There was no other way,” she said, holding back her tears.

The mule didn’t misbehave on the way home, as if it knew there was no point in acting up. Not this time. Paulina began her journey, leaving a furrow on the red dirt behind her.

After a while, she was back in town. Everything was lit with paper lanterns. A man who couldn’t mind his own business dared to mock her father. “That was probably for yesterday’s party,” he said.

Paulina arrived and gave the news to Miguel and Rosa. They were floored by the news. Rosa lost her balance, and had to lean on a pillar while Miguel yelled for help. Some laborers ran quickly to take the body and the mule somewhere else. Another one went straight to the river to get the other mule back. Paulina’s nanny suggested she cleaned herself.

“She needs to wash her face too, Cata,” Rosa whispered aimlessly.

No one knew what to do or where to start. The laborers put the corpse on the couch. They sent a lad to get a doctor, just in case, but there was no doubt that Francisco was dead. They needed to give him a proper burial and a funeral.

“Paulina, don’t put on your nightdress just yet, people may come,” Cata said. “You should wear your black dress instead.”

Once in her mourning clothes, the young lady looked at herself in the mirror. She hid her face between her hands to hold her sobs. “Such a fool! I forgot the book.” There was no one to alleviate her sadness but herself.

Then his little brother came into the room, also dressed in black.

“You have to come with me,” she said. “I left a present from my father at the river.”

“That color doesn’t suit you. You should stand straight,” he said, not paying attention to her demands.

Paulina took another glance at the mirror. She had her mother’s pale skin.

“Have you noticed your eyes look greener when you cry?” he said. “Whom did you get those from?”

“Perhaps from the storekeeper! Who cares? Don’t you see? Father is dead. He is gone!”

“Yes, I know, the doctor just came. He says it was a heart attack. What was his grief?”

Shouts from the street interrupted both siblings. They ran towards the window. There was a commotion outside. Red and green flags moved between opposing parties who fought with sticks and stones.

“Those are the rebels who destroyed the train tracks. Stay away from there, Paco. I heard a bullet.”

“Look, there are also some feds. See? They are riding horses.” Women at the house were shouting, and the shots kept firing.

“The wardrobe! Get the children next to it!” Rosas command echoed through the walls.

Cata came into the room. In a quick motion, she grabbed Paulina and Paco, and took them to the one piece of furniture that had saved them time and time before. The smell of wood was comforting.

The noise of screams and footsteps remained for a while, until the night let them fade away.

“You should have something to eat, children. There’s been enough tragedy for today, and it’s too late.” Their nanny took them to the kitchen and gave them hot chocolate.

“Now, don’t bother your poor old mother. She is preparing herself for the funeral. Be good and go to bed.”

Paulina stood up. It was the first time that Cata noticed how tall and slim she had gotten.

“You did a lot today,” she added, “but you should let your grandfather take care of this from here.”

Paulina and Paco went back to their rooms. More than an hour had passed, and Paulina couldn’t shut her eyes. She was still angry at herself for forgetting Sor Juana’s book. Then she started hearing angry voices. This time, it was her grandfather talking to her mother. The young lady left the bed and heard the conversation from the staircase.

“I’ll make sure the major hears about this! Antonio Morales will not hear the end of it!” Don Miguel said as he paced around the room, while Rosa was biting her handkerchief.

“Please, Miguel, don’t leave, I beg of you. Besides, what will you say? The doctor says it was his heart, an indigestion.”

“No, Rosa. My son was carrying a lot of money yesterday I’m sick of this abuse.”

“You know Morales is a murderer. He will complain about my husband’s friendship with Porfirio. Besides, he has already killed hundreds of Porfirios supporters from Juchitán and other pueblos. Didn’t you hear them fight? Didn’t you hear the bullets? The revolution is far from over. Please, Miguel. We know the feds didn’t kill Francisco.”

“But they stole from him, Rosa. They cheated while playing, and God knows what they might’ve put in his drink. You know what? I’m taking this straight to the government. Juan Jiménez will hear me. They should leave Oaxaca alone. We have nothing but ourselves, so they should leave us alone already! My son, Rosa, my poor son! This can’t continue any longer.”

She bit her handkerchief again. Paulina, who had gone down the stairs, observed them from the pillar.

“I’ll look after you. I’ve always been the man of the house, you know that. But my son! They can’t take Francisco just like that.”

“Miguel, it’s already dark! What will you do?”

“I’m going to the command headquarters!”

“At least let one of your sons join you. Send for him.”