Luggalor's Lenses

by W. S. Fuller

  Jorge walked back into the waiting room very slowly, trying desperately to think of what he would tell Maria. He knew he must keep her from becoming too upset. She was going to have another child in three months, and she always got upset easier when she was with child. He decided it would do her no good to know that Gabriella might die.

  Maria was asleep in the chair. Jorge bent close to her, gently placed his hand on her shoulder, whispered her name. She didn’t stir. He shook her. “Gabriella?” She jumped to her feet from the chair, her face frozen with fear. Grabbing Jorge’s arms, she squeezed them in an unconscious, vise-like grip.

  “She is very ill, but she is breathing easier this morning. The doctor will not be able to tell us anything more until later. He was very nice. He said we should go and get some sleep and then come back.”

  “Is she going to die? Is Gabriella going to die?”

  “She is very ill. But she is getting better because she is breathing easier this morning. Come with me. We must go and give the nurse information. We must also get the other children and bring them to the hospital so they can have medicine to keep them from getting sick like Gabriella.”

  The nurse asked them their names, ages, where they live, if Gabriella had ever been ill before, about their other children. Jorge was glad she was filling out the papers for them.

  “When is your next child going to be born?”

  “In three or four months,” Jorge replied.

  “Do you practice any type of birth control?”

  The question stunned Jorge…left him with no idea how to answer. He thought he knew something about birth control, but he was sure the church was against it and Maria had such a strong belief. Turning to Maria he saw that her head was bowed. She could never talk about this.

  “We are religious.” Her head remained down as she answered the nurse.

  “It is very dangerous for you to have any more babies after the one you are now carrying. There are many diseases such as the one that your daughter has that can make them very ill or kill them. Or kill you while you are with child.”

  Jorge stiffened and looked toward Maria. She was still looking down at the floor.

  “Very young children and the mother are in particular danger.” The nurse continued. “Your church does not want you to have children who will suffer and die...your church does not want you to take a chance on dying yourself. There is a method of birth control that your church approves of. You only have to have no sexual relations on certain days. Can you read?” She looked first at Jorge and then Maria.

  “Yes.” Jorge replied.

  She handed him a small paper pamphlet. “Please read this and when you come back I will be glad to explain anything you do not understand.” She smiled and her voice became soft. “It is important and God’s wish that you have a healthy family and not have any more babies after the next one. And please bring your other children in as soon as you can so we can give them medicine to keep them from getting ill like your daughter. This is very important. They are in great danger, and you need to bring them in tomorrow or the next day. We will give you the medicine now.”

  Jorge felt great relief when the conversation came to an end and the nurse had not asked him to read any of the pamphlet while she was there.

  “I want to go to a church here,” Maria said as they walked back into the waiting room. “I want to go now and pray for Gabriella and the rest of our children.”

  It was Sunday morning and they found a church close to the hospital. There were only a few people scattered about the pews as it was between masses. They both knelt to pray. Jorge closed his eyes tightly and prayed harder than he ever had before. God, please make Gabriella well and do not let my other children or my wife or me get sick with this horrible disease.

  Jorge was not accustomed to praying and could not think of anything else to say, so he said the same prayer again and again…he thought four or five times…before opening his eyes and glancing at Maria. She was still kneeling with her eyes closed, her rosary beads clutched tightly in her hands. He did not want her to think he was less concerned than she was, so he stayed on his knees with his head bowed and repeated his prayer again and again. Then he began to think about Maria.

  When they lived in the city she would go to church each Sunday and on some days during the week. Since they left there had been no church close to them so she built a small shrine in their house and prayed in front of it every night. Not having a church was one of the things she did not like about living on their farm. Jorge knew they will have to move soon because the beans, corn and manioc did not grow as well the last two years as they did the first. He would find more land to clear that had better soil and Maria would again argue to go back to the city, but that is something he would never do. The tin shack, so little food, so many people crowded together...he cringed when he remembered these things. There was no work for him and the garbage and waste came into the shack when it rained.

  His knees ached from kneeling. He had lost track of time while thinking, and he raised his head, opened his eyes, and sat back on the seat. Maria was still praying.

  Jacinto Evangelista stopped the truck in front of the house and walked to the door. A boy of about twelve met him with a frightened expression on his face. There were smaller children standing behind him and Jacinto tried to calm them all with a broad smile.

  “Hello, I am Jacinto. Is your father home?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know when he will be back? I want to talk to him about your farm.”

  “He and my mother went to Porto Velho. My sister is sick and they took her to the hospital there. I do not know when they will be back.”

  “I will come again when they have returned. Is there anything you or your brothers or sisters need while they are gone? I will be glad to help you with anything that I can.”

  “No. We are fine.”

  “You have done a good job with your farm. How long have you lived here?”

  “About three years.”

  “Good-bye. Tell your father I will come again to talk to him and give him this card,” Jacinto said as he reached his hand out with his business card. The boy hesitated, then slowly reached to take it, coming no closer than the four or five feet that separated him from the visitor.

  Jacinto turned the new diesel truck around and headed back towards B.R. 364. Three years. Just what I guessed. The crops are poor, like they always are in the third year after the forest has been cut and burned. The soil in the rain forests in this part of Rondonia is very shallow and poor in nutrients once the magic fertilizer of the ash from the tree burnings has been spent. But farmers who clear their plots by cutting and burning don’t know this, and when their first year’s crop is plentiful they are encouraged. By the third or fourth year they are ready to move on and clear another farm, not realizing the same thing will happen again. But one man’s misfortune can be another’s gain. I will offer to buy this farmer’s land for what is nothing to me but will seem a pot of gold to him. I will then have another 100 acres or so for the cattle ranch that is already cleared. I will make a large profit next year for the rich owners, who live in San Paulo, and, I have heard, the United States. And then they will give me a large increase in my salary.

  The morning was still early when they left the church. Jorge was very tired, and they parked the truck close to the hospital building to keep it out of the sun while they slept. Maria curled up in the cab and Jorge stretched out on the mattress in the bed of the old vehicle. He fell asleep immediately.

  The sun, having now climbed above the building, was burning what felt like a hole through the left side of Jorge’s cheek when he came awake. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and why, and then he looked into the cab. Suddenly frozen with fear, his eyes began frantically searching the parking lot, but there was no sign of Maria. Would she go to the hospital without me? Has she found out about Gabriella? Again he looked into the cab. An icy current crawled through his skin
and his stomach knotted. A large stain of dark red was on the middle of the seat.

  Jorge jumped over the side of the truck and ran as fast as he could around the corner to the entrance to the hospital. Slowing to a fast walk when he entered, he stopped completely in the waiting room. The same blank faces greeted him, and there was no sign of Maria. Moving quickly, pushing the now familiar doors open, he headed for the nurses desk.

  The nurse was talking to someone and did not look up. He waited with his hat wrapped tightly in his hands, panting from the run and shaking, sweat running down his round, flat, deeply lined face framed by coal black hair and a wispy mustache. After what seemed to Jorge like too long a wait, the nurse glanced his way. She looked startled when she first saw the small man in front of her, but asked in a calm voice what he was there for.

  “Doctor, is Doctor....” Jorge could not remember the doctor’s name. “My daughter, she is very ill and my wife, I cannot find her. Do you know...”

  “Please wait here.” The nurse cut him off and disappeared around the corner.

  Jorge could not think clearly. He tried, but his mind was confused, there were too many different thoughts, and then he heard a piercing scream start from the end of the hall. It moved through him, filled all the space around him. He closed his eyes.

  “Lord God, Please make Gabriella well and please let Maria...”

  “Jorge.” The doctor was standing in front of him, and Jorge desperately searched his eyes for an answer. They were soft.

  “Your daughter is going to be all right.”

  Jorge stared, motionless.

  “Your wife is also going to be all right.”

  “But what did my wife, where is she? What is...?”

  “She came in about an hour ago, to go to the bathroom. And realized she was bleeding, but it is nothing serious. She is very scared though, Jorge. You must be calm so you can go and assure her everything is going to be all right. You can also see your daughter now. And Jorge, as soon as you have seen them you must go and bring your other children so that we can give them the medicine.”

  The humans’ blueprints, their DNA, are 99.99% identical, but there is a vast difference in their mental capabilities. Legacy must play a role, surely lack of education, and influence from other humans with lens that are distorted. So many with excellent mental capabilities and knowledge take many actions that are harmful - for themselves, other humans and the planet. And many others, without the mental capability or knowledge, and often with the best of intentions, also take many damaging actions. The cumulative effect is devastating. I, Luggalor.

  2000

  CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA

  Jennifer sat at the table and waited for Horace to be brought in. There were three other tables in the room, each with one chair on each side, and they were all occupied by inmates and their visitors. This was the sixth time - once every week - she had visited him, and it wasn’t getting any easier. She reminded herself to act positive, to try to boost his spirits.

  An officer led him in and the shudder ran through her, as always, when she saw the chains on his wrists and legs.

  “Hi, Horace. How are you this week?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Baker. I’m OK, I guess.”

  “I brought you some chocolate chip cookies. You know, the kind you like, those that Jeffrey’s mother taught me to bake. It’s about the only thing I can cook, and when I find someone who likes them and tells me so...I’m not about to let them off with the hook with just one batch. I don’t get compliments on my cooking very often, so I’ll keep bringing them if you’ll keep telling me they’re good, whether they are or not.”

  “Yeah, well I think they’re real good. They’re lots better than anything they have in here.”

  “Has your mom been here today?”

  “Not yet. She’ll probably be comin in a while.”

  “I talked to your attorney again. He thinks having Miss Rainey testify for you will really help. We’re got a lot of people now who are going to help fight this thing and you’re going to get off, I just know it. It will be obvious to the jury after they’ve heard all the testimony that you were acting in self defense, and that you’re going to get your act together if you get another chance.”

  “I sure hope so Mrs. Baker. I just don’t think I could stand it, bein here or at another prison for very long. It’s real bad, you know, and people tell me all kinds of stuff. It’s scary.”

  “Who tells you, Horace? What do they tell you?”

  “Well, a couple of guys in the cell with me have done some pretty hard time at Jackson. One was in for armed robbery and one for manslaughter. Says he killed some dude with his bare hands that was messin with his lady. They say if I go up I’ll be real popular. You know, for sex and stuff. They say I better get friendly with some of the big, mean dudes that ain’t queer real quick, so they’ll protect me or else they’ll get me and I’ll probably get AIDS. They say I’ll have to pay em though.”

  “Pay who?”

  “The guys to protect me. They also say there’s lots of drugs up there. That people try to get you takin all sorts of stuff so they can make you do stuff, or pay em, you know. I don’t want nothin to do with drugs again, Mrs. Baker. But if somebody’s makin me take em, I don’t know. It’s scary, you know.”

  “I do know, Horace. I understand. I know it’s scary. But you must listen to what I’m going to tell you. And you must believe me, OK?”

  “OK.”

  “There’s an excellent chance you’re going to be acquitted on grounds of self-defense. We’ve got some good, respectable people who are going to stand up for you and the truth is it was self defense...that’s what happened. You’ve got to believe in the system, believe it will work to help you. It was designed to protect innocent people like you. You’ve also got to keep your spirits up and forget about what you hear in this place. Don’t you know they’re trying to scare you? Don’t you know it makes them feel tough, makes them feel important, to scare the hell out of you and act like they’re bad dudes who have done hard time and know their way around Jackson.?”

  “But they’ve been there.”

  “Maybe they have, maybe they haven’t. It doesn’t really make any difference, Horace. The only thing that makes a difference is that you get out of this and make something of your life...that you don’t end up like them, where the only way you’ll be able to get respect is to brag about doing serious time and knowing a lot about the inside of a prison. I’ll tell you what being tough is...what cool is...what being bad is...what getting respect is. It’s coming out of this thing ahead, not letting it get you down, not letting it beat you. Making something of your life. Making it count. That’ll earn you more respect than all the gangs you can join, all the drug money you can spend, all the prisons you can own. And you can do it. You’ve got everything it takes, Horace. You’re smart, you’re a nice guy, you’ve got a mother and family who love you, and a lot of other people who care about you and want to see you make it. And you know what else? You’re good looking.”

  Jennifer gave him a quick, wry smile, but her intensity quickly returned. “It’s not going to be easy though...you’re going to have to be tough as hell. Don’t listen to people who don’t want you to make it, and there are going to be a lot of them. You know why? Because they’re jealous. They see you’ve got what it takes and that makes them real uncomfortable, makes them jealous as hell. Know why? Because if you make it then they have to either admit they can’t or they’ll have to try too. And they’re not tough enough to do that, and they know it.”

  “Sometimes I think I’m gonna’ be all right, that I can do like you say and get my life straightened out. Then other times...I think, man, I’m in real bad trouble and there ain’t no way out.”

  “Look, you made a mistake by hanging with the wrong guys and letting them get you into some things you know you shouldn’t have been involved with. And then you got real unlucky and ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. But there are plen
ty of people who’ve been in some serious messes and ended up OK because they made up their minds to hang tough and they did. They did what it takes.”

  Horace stared at the table, didn’t say a word. With his head still down he spoke softly. “Yeah, but I don’t have too much confidence in myself sometimes. I mean, I don’t do as well in school and talk as well and all, you know, as other guys that are probably goin to be successful.”

  “Horace, look at me...listen.” Jennifer leaned her head across the table, until her eyes were very close to his. “I’m going to tell you the only reasons, and I mean the only reasons, it seems to you that school work is harder and that you don’t speak as well as some other people. Your mother has had to work so hard that she hasn’t had time to read you all the books and help you with your studies like some of the other kid’s parents have. And maybe some of your teachers didn’t encourage you like they should. And a lot of the kids you hang with are in the same boat and the way they talk influences the way you talk, and it’s just different. There’s nothing wrong with that. Now you damn well better remember what I’m about to tell you. It’s true so help me God and it’s the most important thing I’ll ever say to you. You have the ability to learn anything, and speak any way, and act any way, and accomplish anything you want to. It’s going to take some hard work since you didn’t get as early a start as some other kids, but if you want to do it you can, and I’m ready to help you. I’m not going to tell you it’ll be easy, but I am going to tell you can do it. You’ve just got to make up your mind and then be tough...be cool...get it done. Doing something meaningful with your life is the coolest thing you can ever do. You’ll get more respect than you can imagine.”