The Ugly One (9 page)

Mama was forever complaining about how messy Sumac was, and she had cause to grumble. While I was careful to clean up his droppings, it was difficult to capture the seed casings that he scattered across the floor. Mama also did not appreciate that Sumac was forever trying to sneak dried corn from our large storage jar. Each time she saw him waddling toward it, she would scold, “No. No. No! NO!” Each
no
was louder than the one before it, until the bird finally gave up and ran away. Lately, whenever Sumac approached the jar, he would squawk, “No. No. No! NO!” in his funny bird voice, warning Mama of his intentions even before she had noticed and could tell him to stop. He couldn't seem to help himself, even though he gave himself away every time.

“He is a horrible thief,” Mama would say with a half smile.

Father was more forgiving of the bird, for he enjoyed the molted red feathers Sumac left behind. Mama had already woven some of the longer ones into Father's woolen cloak, and he strutted about like royalty whenever the opportunity presented itself. Father also appreciated one of the sounds Sumac had learned from our family. The Handsome One imitated Father's unhappy sigh perfectly, and Father enjoyed having a fellow complainer in our midst.

A piece of corn casing was stuck to the side of Sumac's beak. With a vigorous shake of his head, it flew upward and landed on my chin. I laughed. This had happened before. He took time to scratch the side of his face rapidly with his foot, then attacked the corn pile again. Sumac wasn't the most polite companion with whom to share a meal, but he was fun. I joined him, also enjoying the cold corn. I knew there were many who would judge me poorly for sharing my food with a bird in such difficult times as these, but the happiness he brought to my heart was stronger than the hunger that gnawed at my belly.

I leaned back against the rock, and Sumac jumped onto my knees. With a loud squawk, he bobbed his head and playfully nipped at the blanket I had spread across my lap. This was his favorite game. I slipped my hand under the blanket and made a bump with my fist. He studied the bump carefully, then pounced upon it with his large beak. He could have ripped through the blanket and torn my flesh if he had so chosen, but the Handsome One was always gentle with me. I moved my fist from side to side, and he lifted his blue-green wings as he held on and scolded furiously. I shook my hand and playfully punched at him through the blanket. He fluffed his feathers to show the world how mighty he was, and he attacked the blanket with all the pride he could muster. He squawked and screeched with joy and sighed loudly like Father. To see so beautiful a bird playing in such a silly manner made me laugh. But my laughter stopped abruptly when Sumac took off suddenly in flight.

He had been flying more and more frequently, but always in the past he'd done so because something had startled him, and he'd returned quickly to the ground. This was the first time he had left me without cause. I shielded my eyes from Inti's now-bright glare and followed Sumac's path. I felt as though my very heart had taken off with him. He soared higher in the sky world toward the mountaintops and Inti's home. I could not force him to return to me, so I decided to lie flat on the earth and watch as he circled in a wide arc, his wings spread like a feathered god of the skies.

It was at this point that something very unexpected happened. If you have had a similar experience, you might understand. Otherwise, I fear it will be difficult to comprehend. I'll share it with you as best I can.

As I was watching the Handsome One soaring in the sky world, it was as if I was no longer lying on the earth. Instead, I felt I was with him in the skies, flying through the air. I'm not certain if I was Sumac or myself, but I saw the earth and the mountains from his eyes as surely as if they were my own. The withered land and the people's
wasis
and the smaller mountains spread below me tiny and bound to the earth. The sharp wind flowed under and around me in a glorious rush, blowing away all sorrows from my spirit. I felt I could reach up and caress Inti himself if I chose.

Just as I realized where I was, my body was back on the ground. It happened that quickly. My breath was shallow and fast. My hands shook as I sat up. What had just happened? In a mad rush, Sumac came flapping down and landed in front of me, raising a small cloud of dust. Then he hopped lightly back onto my shoulder.

I eyed the bird. Had he done this to me? He took a long wing feather into his beak and slowly preened himself. If he knew what had happened, he wasn't telling me. There was only one person who could. It was time to visit the Paqo.

***

The moment I entered his
wasi
, the Paqo sat tall and said, “Tell me.”

You may think it odd that I didn't ask the Paqo how he knew something had happened. Or perhaps you don't think it strange at all, for it was his way to know such things before I said a word. I rushed to his side and tried to describe my unexpected flight in the sky world. He listened with eyes that studied my every twitch and expression. “Paqo, was that Beyond?” I asked as I finished. “Did I finally visit Beyond?”

He squinted and said nothing. In the long silence, I realized he would not be offering me any simple answers.

“You aren't going to tell me, are you?” I asked.

Still he studied me.

“You're going to say that only I can know if I visited Beyond, that in my heart I should know the answer already.”

He stroked his chin.

“I don't know if it was Beyond. But it was somewhere, somewhere different and filled with spirit.”

He was as still as a living rock on the earth.

“I want it to happen again. I want to soar with the gods. I wonder how I did it.”

A smile gleamed in the shaman's eyes, but it didn't find its way to his lips. His silence rested about him like a thick fog.

“I can do it. I can fly again. I know it's in my path.” I nodded. “Thank you, Paqo. You have been most helpful.”

As I was about to leave, he finally spoke. Of course, it was to ask a question, not to offer an answer. “Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”

Now it was my turn to be silent. The excitement of my flight had blown away any thoughts of ending my studies with the shaman. I had entirely forgotten my decision of the night before. I grinned. “No, Paqo. I have nothing else to say.”

“Good,” he said. He raised his finger pretending to scold me. “This new voice of yours rambles on like thunder in the rainy season.”

“Yes, Paqo.”

“It is because you released yourself from expectation that you visited the sky world. Remain open to all, New Voice. The world will give you what is right and true, but it is rarely what you expect it to be.”

“Thank you, Paqo.”

Walking back to my family's
wasi
, I questioned the wisdom of the shaman. I would try to stay open to what came my way, but I wasn't convinced that the world would give me what was right and true. In fact, such an idea angered me. Yes, I had flown in the sky and it had been wonderful. But what could be right and true about scarring a girl for life?

12

T
HE
Paqo slowly began teaching me the ways of the herbs and spirits to heal the people. I felt a growing comfort with the magic of the plants and the animals and the gods, as if we were becoming true friends, but I didn't think the people would ever allow me to heal them. Who would agree to have the Ugly One speak to the spirits for him? Who would want the Loathsome One to touch her body? How could I be a healer right and true if I had no one to heal? Every time one of the people came to the Paqo, he would ask me if I was ready to help. I would see the person, in discomfort or pain already, eyeing me warily, and I would tell my teacher no, I was not yet ready. He would nod his head and work his ways while I watched from the side.

I told Mama of my worries. She tried to reassure me, but still when the people came to the Paqo with their troubles and ailments, I held back, afraid that they would reject me.

Then, late one afternoon while I was studying the messages of the spiders with my teacher, Mama herself came to his
wasi
in need of healing. She entered almost apologetically and said, “I'm so sorry to interrupt such important lessons, but I burned my hand preparing the evening meal.” She glanced at me and offered one of her Mama smiles.

“New Voice, are you ready to help?” the Paqo asked, as he always did now.

Before I could reply, Mama said, “I insist that she does.”

My teacher smiled and stepped back. I trembled like a baby leaf fluttering in the wind as I moved toward my mother. What if I made a mistake? Mama deserved to be healed right and true. I took her hand in my own and studied it. The burn wasn't severe. I knew what to do. Carefully, tenderly, with the Paqo watching, I ground up the proper plants, added water, and made a cool poultice to apply to Mama's burnt skin, all the while speaking to the spirits of the plants, asking them to work their magic. Mama held still, a proud smile on her lips the entire time.

“We are done for now,” I said. My voice was quieter than I would have liked, but it was sure and steady. “I can make you a fresh poultice tomorrow and every day after that until the skin has healed.”

Mama rose. She bowed and kissed her fingers as she said, “
Pachis
,” then left the
wasi
. Her movements were so graceful, it was hard to understand how she could have burned herself.

I watched Mama and her hand carefully over the following days, and I thanked Inti when the skin healed without scarring. Papa bragged to everyone in the village of his skillful daughter. Mama proudly showed her hand to all who asked, as if she were showing off a new piece of fine jewelry. And this is how the people came to accept me when they needed relief from their troubles.

Cora, old Sutic's wife, came to me for the
muña
grass to relieve her headaches. I spoke to the spiders on behalf of old Sutic and gave him medicines for his back pain. Helping the people felt good. I found the confidence to speak my words, and they listened to me. I wasn't silent or invisible as I had once been. I found myself reaching out to others, even when I wasn't in the Paqo's
wasi
.

When I saw old Sutic asleep on the earth, leaning against a tree when he should have been working, I nudged him awake. I tried to rouse him and get him to finish his work, but it was obvious he couldn't do it, so I helped him stand and told him I would assist him home. Sumac flew off to the sky world to make room for the old man to lean on my shoulder. I could feel his bones through my wrap as I supported him, and we shuffled slowly along the dusty path. I was thankful no one saw us. He needed to rest, not to be told to go back to work.

When we reached his
wasi
, Cora took his arm onto her own shoulders. “Some nights the pain in his back keeps him from sleeping,” she explained with some embarrassment, and as she stood there, stooped under the weight of her husband, I could see from the darkness below her eyes that Sutic wasn't the only one being kept awake by his aches. “Thank you for bringing him home,” she added, and I nodded, wishing I could do more for them both.

A much more challenging person arrived at the Paqo's
wasi
in need of help. Nayaraq, Ucho's mother, came to us carrying her younger son, Muti, in her arms. Muti was howling in pain. Ucho followed close behind with a fierce frown on his face. Nayaraq placed Muti on the floor before us and raised her voice to be heard over her son's loud cries. “These two boys! I told them not to play so roughly. Ucho, he wasn't careful, and now look!” She pointed to Muti's shoulder, which was hanging strangely.

“The shoulder is dislocated,” the Paqo said. “New Voice, hold on to his body while I manipulate it.”

“No!” Ucho screamed. “The Loathsome One will not heal my brother! I won't let her touch him with her filthy—”

“Enough!” Nayaraq interrupted.

“But—”

Again Nayaraq interrupted him. “Leave. Now,” she said to Ucho in a loud voice, pointing to the doorway.

Ucho glared at his mother. Then he turned his gaze on me. His eyes were narrow slits of spite, and his mouth was contorted in malice. “Don't touch him, Ugly One!” he warned as he backed out of the
wasi
.

“Don't listen to him,” Nayaraq said. “Do what you have to do for my boy.” Muti hadn't stopped his yelps and howls, and as we placed our hands on him and pressed him into the dirt floor, his cries grew even louder. He tried to twist this way and that, but my teacher and I both held him tightly as we chanted to the gods. The Paqo tucked the injured arm onto Muti's belly and bent it upward at the elbow. The boy's screams were so loud, I wanted to cover my ears, but I held him firmly. My teacher rotated the arm and shoulder outward as he pushed, trying to coax the shoulder back into place. We all felt the sudden
pop
. Almost immediately, Muti began to calm, and his crying quieted. The Paqo gently revolved the arm in the other direction, and we sang our thanks to the gods for allowing us to help the boy.

“Thank you,” Nayaraq said to the Paqo. Then she turned to me. “Learning Girl, I apologize for my son's cruelty to you.”

I wondered if she was aware of just how cruel her son had been to me all these years. Was she apologizing for today or for a lifetime of torment?

For now, I would have to be content knowing I had helped Muti. He was already sitting up on his own, and he was clearly uncomfortable being this close to me. Nayaraq carefully picked up her son and cradled him in her arms. I think Muti, Nayaraq, and I were all relieved when the two of them left the
wasi
. My teacher said nothing, just watched me watch them go with a bemused smile on his face.

One of my favorite visitors was Tica, a young wife who came to see the Paqo toward the end of her first pregnancy. She was swollen and bloated and uncomfortable. I placed my hands on her enormous belly, and she didn't flinch or move away from my touch at all.