Excerpt
“Well, atiyeseti?” I asked at last, heaving a sigh. He hesitated.
“Carlos.”
“So you have been baptized?” I asked. He nodded. “But what was
your name before that?”
He looked at me with something between consternation and
amusement. I wasn’t aware at the time that Indians do not advertise
their names gladly, believing that names hold their spirits. He gave
me a nickname instead.
“Tamanoa.”
“Does it have a meaning, your name?”
“Anteater.”
“How would you like me to call you?”
He straightened up a bit.
“Tamanoa.”
“Very well, Anteater, my name is Salvador, and it means
someone who saves.”
We resumed our place in the convoy and my horse protested, so
Tamanoa took the bridle.
“You have to show him who’s boss,” Tamanoa said. “I’ve been
taking care of horses since I was a little boy.”
He warmed to me and we talked easily, but I was thinking of my
feet. Two blisters had broken the day before and now I had three
new ones; dirt stuck to the rawness. My shoulder was bad, but my
feet were killing me.
“For instance,” he went on, “when you walk him, hold the rein
like this, making a fist with your hand. If he bites you, hit him and
scold him. They hear very well and don’t like to be scolded. See his
ears, moving around all the time? Let him smell you and talk to him
softly. If you are afraid, he’ll know and take advantage of you. Here,
you try.”
He gave me the bridle. We walked a rough stretch of road, and I
decided to put my sandals back on. A sharp pain made me hiss.
“You should mount. Why don’t you mount? It’s a long way still.
I’ll teach you to ride him. He’s not bad. What’s his name? You
should name him. Is he yours?”
Libros Libertad 