The Empty Hammock

by Barrett, Brenda

  “Orocobix,” Ana said softly. He looked exactly like the chief in her dream, except for the skin tone and the hair.

  Ana stood up on shaky legs and tears sprang to her eyes.

  Terrence looked at her and his brows arched questioningly.

  “Ana sit down,” Clara hissed, looking at Carey helplessly.

  “That’s a pretty name,” Terrence said smiling at her slightly, his eyes curiously alight. The girl was beautiful but she seemed to have some issues.

  Ana sat down, her brain whirled and she watched as he dragged the treasure chest outside and applied a tool to the top. His muscles bunched under the t-shirt and she sighed.

  How can it be? Is this evidence that they survived? Or is this evidence that she’s crazy?

  “And it’s off,” Terrence said after five minutes. Clara and Carey almost ran to the chest, Ana walked more sedately, staring intently at Terrence who was packing up his tools.

  “Oh, look at this Ana.” Clara held up chunks of yellow metal, her eyes glowing with glee.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Ana peered in the treasure chest and saw that it was covered with gold. There was nothing but gold and she felt strangely disappointed. She wanted there to be more. Some proof that the chest belonged to Juan Perez.

  Terrence stood beside her and remarked, “You look disappointed.”

  Ana looked at him and realized that she was staring at him too long. “Uh…I wanted some indication that it belonged to somebody.”

  “Who?” Terrence asked seriously.

  “Juan Perez,” Ana whispered. It hurt to look at Terrence. He was her dream in a modern setting.

  Terrence looked slightly puzzled. “Well, I will leave you rich folks to your celebrating.” He had a mountain of work to do at the office; the new hotel they were building was giving him more trouble than it was worth and to make matters worse, he had to take over his father’s fledgling business while his parent drank himself into a stupor.

  “How should I pay you?” Clara asked looking at the handsome young man. “In gold?” She held up a nugget. “I still can’t believe this.”

  “Regular currency will do,” Terrence said smiling, “it’s not every day I open a treasure chest.”

  “Look at this,” Carey who was kneeling over the treasure chest and lightly massaging the gold, found a book. It looked like a journal. The outer cover was slightly suede, as if made from animal skin.

  Ana took the journal from Carey who was staring at his sister weirdly.

  “What is it?” Ana asked Carey

  “It says here, the journal of Juan Perez.” He peered at the curled writings and the old Spanish, “it’s dated March 1, 1534.”

  Ana clutched the book to her bosom and walked to the veranda.

  Clara and Carey walked behind her. Ana sat on a chair, and still clutched the journal. Terrence followed closely behind, he was fascinated despite himself, he was not an overtly inquisitive person but the strange way Ana acted was intriguing.

  They all sat in chairs, surrounding a trembling Ana.

  Carey clutched his fingers, he was itching to take the journal from his sister and read it.

  He finally succumbed because Ana was just sitting there numb. He took the book from her nerveless fingers.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Clara asked to no one in particular.

  Nobody answered; they were staring at Carey who opened the journal reverently.

  May 5, 1494

  We landed at a place the natives call Xaymaca but Colón called it Santiago. It is the most beautiful island we have seen so far…the Chief is intelligent, learns very quickly, introduced himself as Orockaby, and has a wife named Ana.

  Clara gasped; she sat very still on the chair.

  Carey stopped reading, his eyes resting on his sister. “No, it can’t be.”

  Ana shrugged. “Keep on reading please.”

  Terrence sensed the tension in the air and looked intently at the family before him. There was a story here and he was anxious to hear it.

  May 6, 1494

  Ana, whose name means ‘flower,’ is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, in any race. She has captured my heart and I will never be the same. Driven by the love in my heart, I took her from her husband’s house at daybreak.

  Kicking and screaming, she came with us, denying the love that surely she must feel between us. We spent three glorious days together, which were the best days of my life. This was a capsule of time that will never be replicated. However, who knew that the Chief would fight so hard to reclaim his woman.

  They followed us for three days and a storm developed. She perished in the sea after a particularly strong wave. I was so heartbroken I could not function for days. My captain, Pablo, cannot cheer me up. I want to go back to Bieke, the village by the sea, to find out if by any chance she could be there. I despair that I will love her forever.

  Carey looked up at Ana; “there is no way you could have known that unless you read this.”

  “Isn’t it curious, that you share the same name as this person in 1494?” Terrence asked.

  “No,” Ana looked at him smugly, “my father named me from her. He always swore that we had an ancestor in the days of Colón, named Ana.”

  “Read more Carey,” Clara said shaking her head dazedly.

  “The ink on this is very blotched we will have to give it to somebody to restore.”

  Ana hissed anxiously, “Read the good pages.”

  “Well let me see.” Carey held up the journal gingerly.

  July 16, 1494

  I returned to Xaymaca to the same spot where her village was but she was not there. There was no village. The morning light did not reflect that people lived there. There was just emptiness, a curious emptiness that threatened to overpower me. I sunk dejected into the empty hammock that was left between two palm trees.

  I felt an overwhelming sense of loss. Pablo could not comfort me. I suppose the Chief and his men had also perished in the storm and that the people went to join another village.

  I could track them down but I know not where to go in this wild jungle of a land. I will leave the new world, but I will never forget her.

  “These pages are not easy to read and the Spanish is even harder,” Carey said, to his anxious sister, as she got up to pace. “Okay here is another entry.”

  May 5, 1495

  It has been a year since Ana, and like a fool, I left Spain and the warmth of my family to go to the exact spot where her village was. My heart was not healing fast enough. There were nights when I would awake and she would be there smiling at me. I am not able to concentrate since returning to Spain.

  My father and mother are busily preparing for my marriage to Sofia, Condesa of Ripola. It is widely known that I made a fortune in the new world and old matrons are anxious for me to marry their daughters. Sofia is the best option from many bad ones. Now, I have a proclivity for long jet-black hair and sloe-shaped eyes.

  The Condesa’s blond locks should keep my mind in Spain, I reasoned countless times, but here I am in this shrub-covered ground where my true love lived.

  Pablo stands at a respectful distance.

  May 7, 1495

  I sleep on my ship at night and by day I would go back to the village site, hoping for a sign. Today, I was mildly surprised when I heard the whimpering of an animal, Pablo and I searched and we found a baby in a basket. My heart tripled its beat when I looked on its face.

  He had startling green eyes. A miniature me. I had a son.

  I took him up and looked around. I knew she was near, that she had not died. I thanked God for the miracle in my arms. We searched the grounds frantically for weeks, but to no avail. Pablo suggested that maybe Ana simply wanted me to have the baby and that she made her choice to be with her people. I finally believed him after our supplies began to run out and my fear that my child was not well. I return to Spain with mixed feelings.

  August 17, 1495

  I n
amed the boy, Alverango Juan Perez. My parents do not often ask about his mother. He looks so much like me, that all is forgiven. My mother and sisters dote on him. I fear he will be spoiled.

  I thank God every day that she is alive, sometimes I wonder why she didn’t choose me and at other times I am happy that she gave Alverango to me.

  “These pages are eaten by something,” Carey said, carefully turning the fragile paper.

  “Just read,” Clara snapped, wiping her eyes. “Gold and a love story, just my kind of thing.”

  “Well, here is something,” Carey peered hard at the pages.

  January 2, 1505

  I have not forgotten the native girl who captured my heart. I married Sofia and she has accepted Alverango as her own.

  She gave birth to our third child today. It’s a girl; we will call her Isabella in honor of the dead Queen. At times I think of Ana and her predictions and I realize that they were true. I wish we had talked more.

  I am now an ardent defender of the natives, I try my best to make others aware of how badly they are being treated, because of my efforts the monarchs probed into the level of treatment the Natives faced and a representative from Spain is posted in the Indies as a means of control. Wherever Ana is, I hope she knows that I am not just a bystander anymore.

  On days like this, when I am in my bottle, after awaiting the delivery of my child, I ponder the past. I long for her, I smile when I remember telling her that my heart was engaged. It still is.

  “Is this person saying that a native girl spoke to him in his language and predicted the future?” Terrence asked puzzled.

  Ana nodded. “That’s what it seems like.” She gave her mother a wry ‘isn’t life weird’ look. Her mother looked stunned. Carey frowned but continued to read.

  May 18, 1506

  I went to see Colón today; I wanted to put into perspective my voyage to the new world. She is on my mind; it’s the same month that we first met. Her image is still fresh on my memory—Ana, the flower.

  I took Alverango with me; the truth is he is my favorite child. I can’t bear to leave him alone for any length of time.

  Colón is a shadow of the man that I saw in Cádiz thirteen years ago. He has wasted away, his eyes sunken in holes, he wears a monk robe at all times and he claimed that his explorations to the new world were a part of God’s plan which would soon result in the Last Judgment and the end of the world.

  I asked Colón if he remembered her, he shuddered and then closed his eyes. He denied the incident when she spoke to him and he fainted. I told him Alverango was her child and that her people would live on forever in him. Colón was not pleased and cursed me as a liar and refused to look at my son.

  Not one day goes by that I have not thought about her, I think with time her image has grown more and more exotic to me. At times, I think I will love her forever.

  Ana laughed softly. “I had no idea that he would love me forever.”

  Terrence looked at her curiously. “You are joking right, that’s an old journal. Unless you are a time traveler.”

  Ana flashed him a grin and declined to comment.

  May 20, 1506

  Colón is dead. He died mumbling that he saw a witch on an island called Xaymaca and that her name was Ana. Everyone thinks he has lost his mind. Not me, I know the truth…

  “Pages are missing,” Carey declared excitedly. “But here is something, I can barely read this old Spanish.”

  Everyone was transfixed and was determined not to miss even a small piece of the writing.

  February 26, 1534

  Today, I landed at Seville la Nueva. The settlers were packing to leave. They were going to a place called Villa de la Vega, which is further inland. I had to come back to the new world after all these years.

  My son lives here now with his new wife; they are finding it more profitable than Spain. Last night I dreamt that I saw tears in her eyes.

  At times, I feel as if I did not do enough to alleviate the burden of the natives. I was the most vociferous of the men in convincing the King that the natives were being enslaved and that they should be free but today on this site, I barely see anyone. The castle and the church are crumbling and there are scarce remains of the native thatched houses.

  I traveled to the village where I met her first. The lone threadbare hammock where she listened to my conversation, while Colón stood silently between the trees. I could hardly travel the path; it was so overgrown with weeds.

  I have my chest with me; here I will bury some of my gold and my journal. The light is waning fast and my men are urging me to hurry.

  The remaining natives are no longer friendly and they would relish killing us Spanish. Not for the first time, I wonder where she could be, if she died, if she was happy. Did she have more children? Has she ever thought of her half Spanish son? I prefer to think of her as alive, young and free.

  February 28, 1534

  My final entry. Last night I could not do it, I could not just bury the gold and my journal. As if compelled I came back to the spot where I met her last. Beside the hammock stood a young boy, his eyes were bright as he stared at me fascinated. I asked him his name and he replied in Spanish almost as fluent as mine.

  He said his name was Diego de la Negro. He seemed to be a half-breed, a mix between the Negroes and the Natives. I asked him what he was doing there and he explained that this was the site of his mother’s first husband, the Chief Orocoby, who died from small pox. He was the son of a Negro brought back with Colón years before. I asked him who his mother was and waited with bated breath.

  He boldly stated that she was Ana. I asked him where she was, if she was well and if she had any children. He looked at me in the serious way of his race and said his mother had five children, two from her first husband and three from his father. He was the last one.

  I asked him to take me to her but the boy ran away. I searched for him but by nightfall I had to return to my ship.

  I wept with joy that she was alive, that she had children and they were surviving. The pain in my chest became acute in the night and I was determined that I would bury the treasure chest with my journal the day after.

  Maybe I won’t be known in history as a great explorer but someone will know that I, Juan Perez, had loved, with all my heart, a native girl whose name meant ‘flower’.

  CHAPTER THIRTY- FOUR

  Ana was openly crying and so was her mother.

  “That’s so romantic,” Ana sniffled, “and it proves that the Tainos didn’t all die. Basila had said that her race would never end. They just lived on, joined with others, but still in here,” she clutched her chest.

  Carey glanced at Terrence and then looked away feeling embarrassed.

  How could his sister have known all the things that the man wrote in his diary? Was dreaming that powerful?

  “Ana,” he cleared his throat, “I am not sure what to say except I can barely understand this madness, but you still need to see Peter.”

  Ana got up and hugged her brother. “I am okay Carey. I really am. I am just happy that the Tainos are still alive today, maybe not in their purest form.” She looked over at Terrence. “But they are still alive today, they escaped to the hills.” Her eyes shone joyfully.

  Terrence shook his head, “I am confused but I must admit that this was a touching story, I wish there was all of it and the pages were not missing. What are you going to do with your gold?”

  “It belongs to the National Heritage Trust, this, and the journal,” Clara said conclusively. “They can make of it what they will. It’s unfair for us to keep this selfishly. The world needs to know the story, don’t you think? While we are at it, we can also give away some of your father’s things. I have to go lie down, I can scarcely take this all in. Carey, secure the gold.”

  Carey nodded and watched his mother’s retreating back.

  “I think she is thinking about Dad,” he looked at his sister, “she is probably sorry that she did not listen to him mo
re or…what am I saying?” Carey got up disgustedly and went for the treasure chest, “I think you are just as senile as Dad was.”

  Ana gave him a serene smile and then looked at Terrence, she was not sure how much of what she dreamt was a reality, or how much of a reality was her dream but on a day like this, she was not going to spend any time analyzing it.

  Terrence picked up his tool kit and stared in her eyes. “I want to know the story from beginning to end.”

  Ana nodded. “And you will believe me too, Orocobix… I mean Terrence,” she said quickly as he frowned. “Have you considered that you may have Taino ancestors?”

  Terrence shook his head. “No, it has never been a concern of mine.”

  Ana grinned. “You do…believe me…you do.”

  “Dinner tonight?” Terrence asked, feeling an undeniable attraction for the girl.

  “Sure,” Ana said and grinned, “pick me up at seven.”

  Terrence winked and walked away.

  The End

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  Author’s Notes

  1. The Tainos gave much to Jamaica and the world in language and culture. The most well known Taino words are tobacco and ‘hamaca’—hammock. The word ‘iguana’ is from the Arawak, and those lizards were a Taino delicacy. The word ‘calabash’ is Taino. Common Jamaican foods which have Taino origins (both the words and the food) include: cassava (bammy), cocoa, callaloo, mammee apple, guinep and guava. Other words were passed, not only into Spanish, but also into English, such as hurracan (hurricane) and hamaca (hammock). In recognition of the importance of the Tainos in Jamaica’s cultural heritage, two of these indigenous Amerindians are depicted on Jamaica's coat of arms, along with the crocodile and the pineapple, all of which were already in Jamaica by the time the first Europeans arrived.