Nilda
Page 2
“Dirty bastard cops!” yelled a young man.
“Jacinto got another fine, man. Bendito.”
“They know they can get him because he got the store, you know.”
“That’s a God damn shame.”
Nilda saw the crowd dispersing. People reluctantly returned to their tenements, feeling the heat overtake them once more. She stayed in the street with her friends, enrapt in amazement at the river that flowed by the gutter. They were all fascinated by the things that floated along. The children waded in the cool stream, collecting lots of treasures. Nilda found a piece of comb and Petra found a paper cup. Marge and little Benji found some good bottle caps. They collected all these items with great interest. Little Benji put some water in the paper cup and drank it. “Ugh!” he yelled. “This tastes terrible!”
“Don’t, Benji. Don’t drink it; it’s got shit and germs in it,” said Nilda. “You’ll get sick and it tastes awful.” She knew because many times before she too had spit out the foul-tasting liquid.
The gutter river narrowed, slowly disappearing; and once again the dry hot concrete and black tar streets began to take command. Nilda looked down the street and saw the puddles of water begin to evaporate and the oppressive feeling of baking alive overtook her again. She turned to Petra who said, “Maybe it will rain,” as if reading Nilda’s thoughts. Benji picked up some of the bottle caps and said, “I’m cutting. See you.”
Nilda looked from Petra to Marge. “I’m tired of this game. I’m going home. See you later.”
She walked home, trying to step only on the areas where the pavement was wet. Nilda started thinking of camp and what it might be like with all kinds of trees and grass and maybe a lake. Like Central Park, she thought, or something like that. She tried to guess what might be ahead for her, maybe something better. These thoughts helped erase the image of the two big white policemen who loomed larger and more powerful than all the other people in her life.
August 1941
Nilda had said good-bye to her mother at Grand Central Station and, now on board the train, she wondered what life would be like away from her family and the Barrio. The train was headed for Upstate New York, not New Jersey as she had told Petra. This was the first time she had ever been without her family and out of her neighborhood on her own. She looked around and up and down the train car and saw a bunch of kids, none of whom she recognized. The nuns sat in pairs, staring straight ahead and not speaking.
Slowly, then rapidly, the city began to fade from view as Nilda looked out the window. First, the Park Avenue Market began to disappear and she looked back at 110th Street where she went shopping with her mother almost every day; then all the buildings, tenements, streetlights and traffic faded from view. Panic seized her and she swallowed, fighting a strong urge to cry as she longed to go back home that very second.
She saw large sections of trees and grass interspersed with small houses. Once in a while a group of cows behind barbed wire would come into view. “Look, cows!” “Wow, those are real cows!” some of the kids cried out. Nilda strained her neck, trying to get a good view of the animals as the train whizzed by. Once they saw some horses. The ride took them past many little houses, most painted white, some with picket fences surrounded by trees and grass. There were no tall buildings at all. Small white churches with pointed steeples. Large barns and weather vanes. Neat patches of grass and flowers. It reminded her of the movies. Like the Andy Hardy pictures, she almost said out loud. In those movies Mickey Rooney and his whole family were always so happy. They lived in a whole house all for themselves. She started thinking about all those houses that so swiftly passed by the train window. Families and kids, problems that always had happy endings. A whole mess of happiness, she thought, just laid out there before my eyes. It didn’t seem real, yet here was the proof because people really lived in those little houses. Recalling a part of the movie where Mickey Rooney goes to his father the judge for advice, Nilda smiled, losing herself in the happy plot of the story.
“Don’t pick your nose,” snapped a nun. “You’ll get worms.” Nilda looked around her as if she had just awakened. “You! You! I’m talking to you.” She realized that the nun was pointing to her and she could feel the embarrassment spreading all over her face as everyone laughed.
At the train depot they all boarded several buses and after a short ride arrived at their destination. The children were all lined up in different groups according to sex and age. Nilda stood in line with the rest of the girls in her group. She looked about her and saw several ugly grey buildings skirted by water. The day was gloomy, adding to the bleakness of the place, which looked like an abandoned factory.
The children stood about in their assigned groups as the nuns and brothers cautioned them to silence. Other children were walking about near the buildings; obviously there were some campers here already. Nilda thought, They don’t look so happy to me. Someone blew a whistle. “All right now, let’s march!” said a brother, waving his arm and pointing toward one of the buildings. He wore rimless glasses and his red hair was slicked down.
“Let’s follow Brother Sean, everyone,” said one of the nuns. There was a dank smell coming from the water. Nilda noticed a thin layer of oily film covering the water near the shoreline. She walked along with the other children toward one of the buildings. The gritty sand under her feet stank of oil.
They were led into a very large room with long wooden tables and benches. Everywhere Nilda looked there was a crucifix or a holy statue. Each group was assigned a table to sit at. A nervous chatter was beginning among the children. A large red-faced nun walked up and clapped her hands vigorously. “Silence, silence now, children. Let me introduce Father Shaw. He will explain everything you want to know. Now,” she looked at the group seriously, “I expect complete quiet and your undivided attention when Father Shaw speaks.” With that she stepped aside and an even larger red-faced priest with a pinkish bald head began to speak.
“Thank you, sister.” He paused, looking at the rows of tables and benches filled with children, and said, “Now, I want to see all those lucky faces. Why lucky? I can tell you why! You have been fortunate enough to leave the hot city behind. How many kids do you know that can leave the city? We intend to have a good time, of course. But every one of us is obligated to show our Savior Jesus Christ our thanks by living, behaving and thinking like good Catholics. Not just at Mass. Here we carry it through every moment. Now, how many of you have made your First Communion?”
Most of the children eagerly picked up their hands. Nilda put her hands on her lap. Although she would be ten years old in a couple of months, she had never received Communion. “Well, that’s wonderful!” Father Shaw said. “For those children who have not received Communion yet, we will have a special religious instruction group every day. They will have a chance to catch up on Catechism.” His smile faded. “Rules are to be obeyed here. We deal with no nonsense. Let me warn everyone, especially the smart alecks, that any kind of misbehavior will be dealt with so that it doesn’t happen a second time. We want no Judas or Jew!” Pausing, he then asked, smiling with humor, “Are there any here, by the way?” The large nun was the first to laugh, bringing giggles and cries of “Noooooo” from the children.
Nilda thought of her stepfather’s constant blasphemy and his many arguments with her mother, as he attacked the Catholic Church. I wish I could tell Papá, she thought. He might just convince Mamá to let me go back home right now, even before I have to open my suitcase.
In that same large room with the long wooden tables and benches, campers were fed their meals. Supper that night consisted of first, a clear soup, which was so tasteless that it took Nilda a while to recognize the flavor—it was chicken—then the main course, a sausage pie. The meat was wrapped in a soft dough having the consistency of oatmeal; it was served with creamed beets and grits, bread spread with jam and a glass of powdered milk. Dessert was stewed plums and prunes in a heavy syrup. Nilda was not very hungry.
A gong sounded. The sister clapped her hands. “All right, now just a minute, stay in your seats.” She walked around inspecting the children’s plates. “Well, we’re going to overlook some of these full plates tonight because this is this group’s first day here. Tomorrow we expect all the plates to be completely clean. Let’s line up.” The girls in Nilda’s section left the tables and formed a line two abreast.
A young nun walked up to the group of girls. “I’m Sister Barbara,” she said smiling. “Follow me, girls, and please no talking.” She led them out of the building and over to the dormitory where Nilda had previously put her suitcase. The building was very much like the others, two stories high, the outside concrete and brick. Inside, the walls were painted a dark color; the paint was peeling and large cracks were visible on the walls and ceiling.
The group of children walked along into the dormitory, a very large room with rows of army cots all made up. Army khaki blankets were neatly tucked in the cots. Each cot had a pillow with a white pillowcase and at the end of the cot was a footlocker. Sister Barbara turned, still smiling, and said, “Shower time. Get your robes and towels, pajamas and toothbrushes. We have a nice full day tomorrow and it’s time to get ready for bed.” Nilda looked out; it was still light outside. She thought, Man, at home I could go outside and play with Petra and little Benji.
“Leave your clothes on, girls. We have to go to another building,” said the smiling nun.
Sister Barbara led the group outside and into another similar building only one story high. Nilda looked at the long room with benches lined against one side of the wall and showers lining the other side. She could see the toilets in the next room; none of them had doors, just toilets lined up next to each other. The girls started to undress. Nilda felt a little embarrassed, naked with all those girls she hardly knew. Some of the others were already under the showers. “Oooooooh, it’s cold.” “Ayeeeee, it’s freezing.”
“Now, girls, we’re a little short of hot water so just go in and come out quickly, that’s all,” said Sister Barbara, all smiling and pleasant. Feeling the goose bumps all over her body, Nilda jumped in and out, drying herself and getting her pajamas and robe on. “Anyone who has to go to the john, go now.” A few girls walked into the next room. “You cannot go later, now is the time, before we get to bed.” Nilda was glad she had peed in the shower, and so she stayed put.
Back in the dormitory, Nilda noticed some food carts lined up against the side wall. They were all full of large bottles of Phillips’ Milk of Magnesia. Set at the side of the bottles were tiny glasses that looked like the whiskey glasses they had at home for parties and Christmastime. Grabbing a cart by the handles, Sister Barbara started walking, pushing the cart over to the section where Nilda was. Still smiling and in a soft voice, she said to one of the girls, “It’s time for our laxative.” She handed the glass to the girl. The girl did not respond; she sat there looking at the nun.
“How is it going?” a loud voice said. Nilda saw the same large nun who had introduced Father Shaw earlier that day. “They are taking their laxative, aren’t they? I hope no one here is a baby and has to be treated like one.” Both women were now standing over the girl. Nilda watched as the older larger woman took the small glass out of the younger nun’s hand and shoved it right up to the girl’s face. The girl grabbed the glass and put it to her lips. “Hurry up now, quick, all at once! Let’s go … the whole thing! No, no! Drink it all. There! That’s it,” said the large nun. “Now, let’s not have anymore fuss or I’ll call Brother Sean. He has a very convincing friend, a good whacking stick that will help anyone here drink their laxative.” With that she turned and left, walking over to the other section of the dormitory.
Sister Barbara continued going to several cots and finally Nilda took a deep breath as she saw the smile on the nun’s face directed at her. “You will take this, please. Time for our laxative.”
“I already went to the bathroom,” said Nilda.
“This is for tomorrow. This way you will be clean and pure when you greet God. Waking up, you will be ready to release everything in your bowels, getting a fresh start before Mass.” Nilda looked and saw that Sister Barbara’s smile never left her face. Like it was stuck on or something, she thought. Nilda reached out and took the small glass, holding it up to her lips. A wave of nausea hit her and she closed her eyes. As if anticipating what would happen, the young woman said, “None of that, now. I don’t want to call Brother Sean. Nobody here has started this business so don’t you be silly. Just drink it down.”
Closing her eyes, Nilda began to drink the chalky sticky substance. “All of it, that’s a good girl. Go on! Drink it all down. Good. A little bit more. Good. Ah!” Nilda made a heaving sound. “Uh, uh, just swallow and keep it down. Don’t let it come up. In a couple of days when you get used to it, you won’t even taste it.” Smiling, she marched on to the next cot.
Nilda could feel the tears rushing out all at once. Pulling the covers over her head, she began to cry quietly. She licked the tears and welcomed the saltiness as it helped reduce the chalky taste in her mouth. She went on crying quietly until she fell asleep. During the night the sounds of sobbing and whimpering coming from the other cots woke her, but each time she closed her eyes, going back into a deep sleep.
The same large room that was used as the dining room and meeting hall was also used as a classroom. Nilda sat at one of the tables and daydreamed that she was back home. She missed her familiar world of noise, heat and crowds, and she missed her family most of all. All the nuns, priests and brothers were very white and had blue or light brown eyes. Only among the children were there dark faces. She wondered if Puerto Ricans were ever allowed to be nuns, fathers or brothers.
“I hope we can work real hard, children,” said the short nun, “so that when you return home you will be able to receive Holy Communion and make your families happy and proud.” She walked around stiffly, stopping to ask the children if they had understood what she had said. She got very little response from anyone.
Papá wouldn’t be proud. He would have a fit, thought Nilda, with a feeling of affection and warmth for her stepfather.
That night she looked around at the enormous dormitory with the many rows of army cots set side by side. The chalky taste of the milk of magnesia was still fresh in her mouth, making her feel nauseous.
The lights had been turned out already. She could hear a lot of quiet crying and whimpering. She started to think of home. Why am I here? Did Mamá know about this place? She remembered her mother with her portable altars for the Virgin Mary and all the different saints. Nilda’s mother set these altars all over the apartment. Always lighting candles, saying prayers, visiting the spiritualist, who gave her all kinds of remedies and special prayers. Mamá is always asking God or a saint for miracles. She is always talking about fate and that there is a divine reason for things. “A Destiny. Everything is written for you already up there!” That’s what Mamá says, she thought. We must not offend God. All of a sudden it all became perfectly clear to Nilda. Wow! I must have done something very bad to offend God! Something really really bad. She started to think about all the “bad” things she had done in her life. After a while she decided that it must be one special thing, or several things, or
maybe everything!
Well, whatever it is, I’ll repent. I’ll repent it all. But now that it was time to repent she realized that she was in bed for the night. Once they put out the lights she could not leave her bunk. She had to do something right now, at that moment. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I promise you, oh Virgin Mary, to sleep all night with my hands folded across my chest just like you look in some of the statues I seen in church. I will recite all the prayers I know and some I just learned. And I promise to think only pure thoughts all night long.” Shutting her eyes tightly and folding her arms, she said, “Please, oh please, let me go home tomorrow.”
After breakfast the next day, there was a rumor that everyone was going to be sent home. As she heard the children talking, Nilda was both happy and frightened at the same time. Everyone was whispering and talking about going home. In the early afternoon all the campers were called in, assembled in the big dining hall, and seated at the long tables. The large nun entered, walked over to the other nuns and began whispering. Nilda heard the kids.
“We’re gonna be sent home.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard.”
“Do you think it’s true?”
“Maybe. I overheard some of the brothers and they said …”
Nilda was afraid to comment or respond lest she break the magic of the miracle that was about to happen. If they knew, it might spoil it all, she thought.
The large nun walked to the front of the hall and began speaking. “I am here for Father Shaw. He had to attend to some urgent business regarding the camp.” Nilda’s heart was pounding and she could hardly hear or understand what the large woman was saying. “Something has gone wrong with the plumbing and there is no water. Some of you will be sent home today and others will be sent home tomorrow.” A huge cheer went up. The children were elated, jumping up and down on the benches. “Stop it! Stop the nonsense or I’ll send for Brother Sean this minute,” she said, clapping furiously. “Unfortunately,” she continued, “we cannot fix the plumbing or the pipes. There is no water available. This is a major repair job which we cannot do this year.” This brought giggles and happy sighs from some of the tables. “Quiet, quiet!” she clapped. “Now next year …” Closing her eyes with a sense of joy and relief that shook her body, Nilda stopped listening.