Now Is the Time to Open Your Heart_ A Novel - Alice Walker [73]
Will she throw a rock at me? it seemed to ask.
Will she take up a stick and chase me away?
Well, no. She was not permitted to harm anything on this journey. Nor was she inclined to do so. She did keep her distance, though. And she did begin to carry a stick, though she never so much as pointed it in the snake’s direction.
What does it mean to be completely outside the circle of goodwill? That was the question that came as she contemplated the snake.
Because of religious indoctrination, almost everyone feared and loathed the serpent. What damage had such hatred done to it; a magical expression of Creation? Was this, the banning of the serpent from the circle, the beginning of separation? Was this the model for all the other banishments? Hunted and killed, or killed instantly, on sight, forced to hide at all times, what did the serpent think of humanity?
Why had women, long ago, befriended the serpent, loved it? Why had Cleopatra had asps as pets?
Kate tried to imagine the lack of revulsion. It was surprisingly hard. She thought of the priestesses who had danced with snakes, sculptures of whom she’d seen in museums.
Maybe ancient woman thought the feel of the serpent’s body was enchanting; cool and sleek and undeniably beautiful, as it was. And it could drop an old skin when it was outgrown! Maybe to her the feel of the serpent’s body was like that of a cat to woman today. And Kate tried to imagine the cat being placed outside the circle as the snake had been, and the dread of cats humans would feel.
Black people had been cast outside the circle of goodwill for hundreds of years. This was perhaps the root of her feeling of kinship with her visitor. She saw how, as Africans rejoined the circle of humanity, so many carried scars too horrific to bear. Many of them, like women who lived in cultures that despised and willfully obliterated the feminine, would never experience the connection to earth and to humanity that was their birthright. Pain had driven them to separate from their very selves.
One Day, Standing in Her Garden
One day, standing in her garden, Kate was surprised to see Armando coming through her gate. As soon as he saw her his face lit up in a smile.
Armando! said Kate, rushing to embrace him. What are you doing here?
Behind him there were others, two women and seven men.
I have come to see you, he said with a shrug, laughing.
He was wearing faded khakis, a black T-shirt, a burgundy polyester jacket, and a green baseball cap. On his feet were new tan sneakers.
The other men were dressed similarly, even the white man whom Armando introduced as Charlie. Charlie’s wife, Rela, was not white; she and the other woman, Lila, looked very much alike. They had dark hair and brown skin and bright, if somewhat sleepy, eyes. As introductions were being made, Yolo came from the shed behind the house that he’d been using as a studio, and Kate invited him to join them.
We’ve been traveling a long time, said Armando, after Kate had brought chairs for everyone and settled them on the porch. Sipping the water and juice she brought out on a tray, her visitors began to relax. She noticed that the men, every single one of them, except Charlie, kept looking up into the trees.
That’s a fat one, one of them said in Spanish.
Um-hmm, said another.
Charlie explained to Kate that gathered on her front porch were eight of the most powerful shamans of South America. They had come out of various jungles and mountains and plains of their countries and were on their way to Washington, D.C.
We tried to call you, he said, but your number isn’t listed and Armando lost the paper you gave him when you were visiting him. He remembered the name of your street because it is the name of his brother. He also remembered you told him your house was blue. It is the only blue house in the neighborhood. Once we found the street, it was easy to spot.
Kate laughed. My neighbors hate it, she said.
Ah, vecinos, said Armando. They never understand