Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [54]
“We have separate quarters for men and women,” Ana said, to emphasize her right to be part of the discussion. “The married couples with children have their own bohíos.”
“Forgive me if I repeat what you already know, but part of my visit is to make sure that owners and mayordomos”—he turned to Severo—“understand what’s expected.”
“We do the utmost to fulfill our obligations to our people,” Ana said.
“You’re also aware, then, that the code provides their right to purchase their freedom. They may rent themselves to others during off-hours. Or they can apply a particular skill—to grow vegetables for sale, for example, or to make things they can sell toward the cost of their own manumission.”
“At least one,” Severo said, “is working toward that goal by making items for sale.”
Ana turned to Severo with a questioning look.
“José,” Severo said to the priest. “During his free time he carves little animals and santos. I bring them to town for him.”
“God bless you, son,” Padre Xavier said, “bless all of you.” He made the cross in front of them. “They’re God’s children, too.”
“Amen,” they all said. “Amen.”
Ana was gratified by Padre Xavier’s approval of the way the hacienda’s workers were treated. He celebrated Mass under the breadfruit tree near the house and afterward gave Ana a flask of holy water and instructed her on how to baptize children born to the slaves.
“It is their salvation,” he added.
To further impress him, Ana began weekly, compulsory attendance at prayers every Sunday morning after chores but before the workers’ afternoon off. An open-walled shed roofed with palm fronds was designated for services. Ramón and Inocente took turns reading passages Ana chose for them from prayer books and telling stories of the saints that illustrated the value of sacrifice and faith in a better world after the hardships in this one. Severo Fuentes never attended.
Ana’s one luxury, indulged every evening, was for Flora to bathe her. After supper, Ramón and Inocente had a smoke and a drink, sometimes accompanied by Severo. She retired to the bedroom and undressed with Flora’s help. In the candlelit room, Flora poured fresh water and a few drops of lemon verbena–scented Agua Florida into a cloth inside a gourd bowl. Ana held on to the bedpost as Flora gently rubbed the damp rag around her face and ears, under her arms, around her breasts, down her belly and back, along the inside of her thighs. After she finished each section with the damp cloth, Flora gently massaged it with a dry one. She knew how to touch the most intimate parts of her naked mistress without making her feel exposed.
Flora hummed a melody in rhythms unlike any Ana had ever heard.
“What’s that song?” Ana asked one night.
Flora cowered. Every time she made a mistake or was criticized she expected a slap, or a punch, or something to be thrown at her. “I so sorry, señora.”
“You did nothing wrong, Flora. But you were singing.”
“I forget,” Flora said, still nervous. “Disculpe, señora.”
“I like your singing,” Ana said. “You have my permission.”
“Yes, señora?”
“The song is in your language. What does it say?”
“It is a full moon tonight and I sing about it.”
“Sing it again, Flora.”
Her voice was high but raspy and rose and fell in mesmerizing waves of sound. Ana sensed that Flora was embarrassed to be performing for her, and that perhaps the act of singing was more meaningful than the words.
“Were you a singer among your people?”
“Everybody sing, señora. Men, women, children. We sing all the time. Even when sad.”
“You can sing anytime, Flora, even when you’re sad.”
“You mean this?”
She finished bathing her, resuming her song. Ana was almost certain that whatever the words, if Ana asked for a translation, Flora would tell her