Authors: Brenda Barrett
August 17, 1495
I named 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 more 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.
2. The Tainos were not fully exterminated, as history has led us to believe. In 1655 when the English expelled the Spaniards, Tainos were still recorded as living in Jamaica. It was noted at this time that rural farmers spoke a dialect that was mixture of Spanish, Taino and African languages. Later archaeologists were to discover English lead among Taino artifacts. Almost 60 years earlier, in 1596, English privateer Sir Anthony Shirley plundered St. Jago de la Vega (later Spanish Town), after being guided there by Taino tribesmen. Further archaeological findings confirmed that Taino extinction was a myth. Although being enslaved and cruelly treated by Europeans, some Tainos survived. Many escaped into the mountains to coexist with the Maroons.
3. Some of the names of places in this book such as Cubanakan-Cuba and names of people: Ana—flower, Tanama—butterfly, Carey—sea turtle, Bieke—small land, Cobo—marine sea shell, Bohio—house, and the statement Han-ha’n catu’- ‘yes let it be this way’, were all borrowed from the Tainos.
4. The blessing that the Behique gave at the joining of Orocobix and Ana was borrowed from the Apache.
5. I used the real names of some notable Arawak chiefs:
Guacanagari was a Cacique and great Taino prophet. He dreamt things before they happened and he had the vision of the Guamikena (white men) coming, long before they arrived on his island.
Caonaba was a Cacique, his name meaning ‘big gold’. He was married to the beautiful, Anacaona, whose name means, ‘the golden flower’, and who became Chieftess and was much loved and supported after he died. He destroyed the Spanish fortress Navidad and went on to fight the Spanish. He was later captured and sent on a slave ship, but he died on his way to Spain.
Yuisa - A chieftess in Puerto Rico; she was captured by Juan Ceron and made to work, along with her village people, in the gold mines in 1509.
Orocobix - Chief of the village of Jatibonicu in Puerto Rico.
Oromico - Also a great chief and cousin to Orocobix. .
6. What’s in a name? For Cristóbal Colón, known to the English-speaking world as Christopher Columbus, it seems as if there is much. His name is still an issue of debate; Colón’s origins and his motivations are shrouded in mystery. This has led to debates and counter debates and seemingly the script on his grave “Non confundar in aeternam –– “I will not be forever confused” is nowhere near coming to pass.
7. In 1494, Colón named the island of Jamaica, Santiago. The Spanish wrote the name used by the native Taino, ‘Yamaye,’ as ‘Xaymaca.’ The Taino word is purported to mean ‘many springs.’ Or, as some historians would have it, the original word was ‘Hamaica’ or ‘Jamahich,’ meaning land of wood and water.
8. Most historians believe that Rio Bueno is the place where Christopher Columbus first landed in Jamaica. Having been chased from St. Ann's Bay by Arawaks in war canoes, he stopped at Discovery Bay, but when his scouts failed to find fresh water he weighed anchor at the next horseshoe-shaped harbor west, where he found a fine river. Hence the name Rio Bueno.