Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [84]
“And when I do,” he said. “I will not trade you away. I will not hobble or cripple you so you can’t run again. The law gives me the right to whip you before I hang you in front of the others, in front of your husbands, in front of your wives, in front of your children until you die.”
After Inocente’s murder, they knew he meant it. When he came back from searching for Alejo and Curro, smelling of death, his hounds at his heels, they didn’t need details to know that don Severo had killed the cimarrones. Weeks later, they heard how he did it. His vicious dogs, the efficient single slice of his machete across their necks, the blood soaking into the earth were still talked about among slaves and masters alike.
Young boys like Efraín were used by the mayordomos and patrones as messengers. They passed on what they saw, but they weren’t as reliable as the hired workers who also brought stories from nearby villages and from town. But the most dependable source of information for the workers at Hacienda los Gemelos was Siña Damita.
As a free woman, she went where she was needed so long as she carried the notarized papers stating that she was a liberta. She traveled on a spavined mule that might collapse at any moment and that she cared for and fed as if the animal were a thoroughbred stallion. She was the best curandera and midwife in the area, so she needed to move quickly when called to attend women in labor, to cure children with fevers, to bandage wounds and salve bruises. The doctor in town, Dr. Vieira, preferred to treat the wealthy and left the others to curanderas like Siña Damita.
Most of the campesinos paid for her cures and treatments with a few eggs, a bunch of bananas, a length of cloth. Some of her work, however, had nothing to do with sickness. She went to Guares weekly to deliver love potions, to cleanse rooms of disturbed forces, to counteract the effects of the evil eye, to conjure restless spirits, to rinse the hands of gamblers for good luck. For this trabajo, she expected money, at least one Spanish real, sometimes more, depending on the work. She was often consulted to resolve family squabbles, and was the intermediary for parents who needed to place a child in the household of a wealthier relative or friend. Hijos de crianza were raised and educated by foster parents. Siña Damita looked in on the children to make sure they were being treated well by their new families, and reported back to the parents, who usually lived far from them. In at least one case she placed a baby whose mother didn’t want her with a woman who’d just lost her own child. For that trabajo she received ten Spanish pesos, the most money she’d earned at one time.
Siña Damita was saving her money to free Lucho, her husband. Once she bought him his freedom, they could work together to manumit their sons, Poldo, Jorge, Artemio; their daughters-in-law, Coral and Elí; and their grandchildren. So far, in the six years she’d been saving, Siña Damita had accumulated thirty-two pesos, two reales, a small portion of the three hundred pesos don Severo wanted for Lucho, who was forty years old, strong and a trained butcher.
The opportunities to make money in Guares were increasing as what used to be a village grew into a town. The jíbaros squatting on unclaimed lands along the harbor were being evicted as the municipal government took over and made the plots available for homes, offices, businesses, warehouses, and stores.
The town now had a middle and a professional class. The sons of successful hacendados returned from their studies in Europe full of idealism and optimism. As Siña Damita moved among her customers, she heard news, rumors, gossip that she shared with her family and friends at Hacienda los Gemelos.
Blancos treated all blacks, free or enslaved, as if they were invisible. They talked, argued, wooed, and complained within sight and hearing of blacks whom they believed to be stupid and