excerpt
A band of green parrots erupted from the jungle not far above us,
cawing deafeningly.
“If I can make Guacaipuro believe in Christ, then maybe I can
convince him of the futility of going to war. If I cannot stop him, at
least he and his people will see the glories of heaven. I have to try,
but you are not obligated. Perhaps you should return to San
Francisco. If you want to go, this is the time. I will understand.”
I allowed the silence to stretch so that the import of my words
would become clear to him. It was a decision he had to make on his
own.
“Why do you think they won’t just kill us?”
“We bring gifts. I have something to give Guacaipuro. And we
bring them Paramaconi’s niece, Baruta’s betrothed.”
Five days later, Tamanoa and I were crouching in the greenery,
swatting insects, scratching old bites, tired and hungry, about one
mile from the village of Suruapo. Tamanoa was still unconvinced.
“Areyou sure this is a goodidea, padre?” Tamanoa asked under his
breath. “We don’t even have a stone to throw if things turn black!”
Teques were not known for liking Spaniards, or tame Indians
either. I knew that. But I had no intention of being Guacaipuro’s
dinner. That’s why I had sent Apacuana ahead to plead our case.
“How do you know we can trust her?” Tamanoa asked.
“She would not have saved my life just to have me killed in
another way.”
“You don’t know these people,” he said. “You don’t know Baruta
or Guacaipuro. She might have to change her ways to protect her
own skin. They do that, you know, Indians, they lie.”
My knees protested at the long squatting, so I shifted my weight
onto my buttocks until I felt reasonably comfortable. I tried not to
stare at the hideous scar of his missing nose.
“You don’t like her much, do you?” I said, voicing a thought that
had occurred to me more than once.
Libros Libertad 