Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [48]
Master sold her to another man, who took her to his farm, and the forest on the boundaries of that finca sang to Flora. There were many slaves in the finca, none of them Mbuti, but by now Flora spoke a little of her previous master’s language. She hardly knew this master, but the others showed scars and missing ears and fingers and toes that he’d chopped off. An elder who spoke the same babble as Flora’s previous master told her that a group were planning to run away. With many gestures and the few words they had in common, the elder was able to explain to Flora that they would hide for a few days in the forest and then walk over the mountains toward the setting sun, to a place called Haiti where there were no masters. Flora had no idea where she was and hadn’t heard about Haiti, but she knew that if she went into the forest, it would protect her. She was afraid that she’d be raped again or a part of her body might be cut off, so she agreed to escape with the others.
One moonless night, the men went into the house and the women and children ran into the nearby woods. Flames hissed into the night. Flora heard the bell clanging, hounds barking, and shots. Dogs bit into her calves, her buttocks. She kept running. This forest was different from the one back home, but she sang silently as she ran. She climbed a tree to its highest branch. Mbuti believed that the forest would let her see into her secrets if she were patient, so Flora waited quietly until she could see. Men and dogs ran around below, caught the others, and dragged them to the yard.
Flora slept on the branch, and the next morning she climbed down and found fruit, then walked farther into the woods and scaled high up another tree. There were white men and dogs all over the forest, but she knew how to walk from branch to branch, and when she was on the ground, she walked in brooks and rivers so that she left no scent. She spent many days walking toward the sinking sun each time, eating whatever she could find. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew that she could live in the forest the rest of her life if she had to. She was lonely, but she was not afraid of the forest, only of men.
One day she was trying to catch a fish in a shallow river when two black men dressed like blancos leaped from the bushes and captured her again. They knotted her wrists together behind her back and pushed and dragged her to the same camp where they’d tied up the three men who’d planned the escape. They were returned to the charred remains of the farm. The three leaders were whipped, then hanged in front of the others, and Flora was lashed until her back and legs bled. The same elder who told her about Haiti restored her to health. The master was dead and they’d all be sold to different masters.
Don Felipe bought Flora, and again Flora was on a boat, not as dirty and dank as the first one. She slept for two nights on top of crates filled with bacalao. When they landed, the forest sang again to Flora. She didn’t know where she was before or where she was now. This master spoke the same tongue as the second one. He locked her inside a storeroom and the next morning took Flora to his wife. Doña Benigna gave Flora a dress, an apron, a head wrapping and taught her how to bathe and dress her, how to brush her fine golden hair, to put on her stockings and fasten them with ribbons above her knees, to wash and press her frocks and bodices, to sew and mend. If Flora made mistakes, or couldn’t understand, or dropped something or broke it, doña Benigna slapped Flora or shoved her across the room.
So that she wouldn’t be beaten, Flora did what she was told, was careful not to drop or break anything, and learned Spanish. The longer she lived with don Felipe and doña Benigna, the fewer beatings she received.
At least, Flora thought, don Felipe