Erased Faces (7 page)

“Some anguish is never forgotten.”

It was Adriana who now opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The words froze in her mouth, suddenly blocked by an intense surge of affection for Juana. This unexpected emotion startled and confused her, causing her to recoil and to want to end the conversation. Sensing the turmoil that was accosting Adriana, Juana pursued.

“Join us, Adriana.”

“What good could I be to you? I'm not a native, much less do I have training in what you're planning.”

Juana straightened her back and she crossed her arms over her breasts. It was only then that Adriana focused on that part of her body; until that moment she had concentrated only on Juana's face. She took in the embroidered, faded cotton blouse. The sash around her waist showed off the small woman's plumpness.

“We are about to embark on a plan for which we've been preparing for many years, one that will return to us what was snatched away long ago. It will be painful, and it will cause anguish, but it must take place. All of our actions should be chronicled in writing as well as in images for the world to see. You can do that for us.”

Adriana's body drooped, accosted by a mix of fear and excitement. A swirl of unrecognizable emotions caused by the woman facing her filled her, shaking her, forcing her to confront the vulnerability and loneliness that had stalked her since her childhood. She felt a compelling attraction, a pull towards Juana she had never before experienced for anyone. She looked away from her because she feared that what she was feeling would leak out through her eyes.

“Will the people accept me?”

“They already have. That is why I'm here speaking to you.”

“Where will I get my supplies?”

“We will see that you have what you need.”

“Is there going to be bloodshed?”

“Yes.”

The thought of violence shocked Adriana, forcing her to wonder if she had the courage. On the one hand, she found it easy to identify with the suffering of the natives; she had recognized it each time she
focused her lens on a woman; she saw it stamped on her face. She was convinced that she understood their misery because it reminded her of something inside of her. Yet the shedding of blood was another consideration. She looked at Juana.

“I don't know if I have the courage.”

“None of us knows that until the time comes.”

Adriana nodded, remembering that she had yearned to understand the reality behind the images she captured on film. How else could she do that, she asked herself, except to get as close as possible to her subjects. To join Juana would be dangerous, yet the idea of being in the heart of the conflict enticed her, making her forget whatever peril might come her way. However, without knowing it, much less admitting it, Adriana was above all seduced by Juana's image, by her voice, by her ideas. In her mind Adriana had already said
yes
.

She returned to the
palapa
to pack her personal belongings; the cameras and attachments she would carry separately. As she sorted lenses, film and notes on the cot, she felt apprehensive about what she was about to do, and the haste with which she had agreed to join the rebels. She was more fearful, however, of the storm of emotions that had been unleashed in her soul by her meeting with Juana. She tried to stop thinking of her and to concentrate on what she was about to do, but the indigenous woman's face and her figure would not be erased from Adriana's thoughts.

She forced herself to think of practical things. She had been able to mail part of her work to an editor in Los Angeles, but she had a collection of recent shots, along with numerous notes, still to be organized. She had to decide what to do with those photos and descriptions. After a while, she placed the material in a canvas bag, and left the
palapa
in search of Chan K'in. She found him at the edge of a clearing, working with a boy; they were mending a broken farming tool. At first, neither of them saw Adriana standing by their side, and she had to clear her voice to get their attention.

“Buenas tardes, Chan K'in.”

Her words startled him out of his concentration. The boy, too, was surprised. When they realized that she was standing by their side, they got to their feet.

The old man smiled a toothless greeting.
“Buenas tardes, niña.”

With an eye signal, he told the boy to leave. When they were alone, Adriana sat down on the ground and crossed her knees. Chan K'in did the same; he was still smiling.

“I hear you are leaving. Voices say you are going up to the mountains.”

Adriana was unable to mask her surprise upon discovering that the old man knew her plans, since she had told no one of her conversation with Juana Galván. She looked at her watch and realized that less than an hour had passed since she agreed to leave the village.

“What do you think,
viejo?”

“I think it is good for you to do that. Your work will be important; the world will see what is happening here.”

“But I don't even know who I'll be living with, or in what way I'll be able to help. Perhaps I'll be nothing more than an intruder, a foreigner.”

“That is not the case,
niña
. You are part of us. We used to be like stones, like plants along the road. We had no word, no face, no name, no tomorrow. We did not exist. But now we have vision; we know the road on which we are to embark, and we invite you to come and seek, to find yourself, and to find us. We are you, and you are us, and through you the world will come to know the truth.”

Adriana narrowed her eyes, concentrating her gaze on Chan K'in's craggy face. She was touched, even surprised by his words and the intensity of their meaning. His voice, too, sounded youthful, vigorous; it filled her with the courage that she had been missing only minutes before. She slowly rocked back and forth on her haunches, thinking of what the old man had just said, especially about his invitation for her to find herself. Juana's image flashed in her mind, and behind it came a memory she had long before forgotten. She had made love with a man, but she had not felt then what she was feeling now for the small, indigenous woman.

“I love you, Adriana.”

Kenny's mouth clung to hers as he rolled off of her. They had just finished making love, but they were still locked in an embrace of legs and arms, hoping that the pleasure they had just experienced would not go away. It was a dark night on Point Fermin, the place where she and Kenny often met to talk and to be with one another.

They were quiet for a long while, listening to the sound of waves crashing against cliffs and rocks, but the breeze skimming off the Pacific was cool, forcing them to put on their clothes. After that they sat side by side looking out toward Santa Catalina Island; scattered lights glimmered from that shore.

“Let's get married, Adriana.”

She listened to him but did not respond. Instead, she drew her knees toward her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin there. Adriana seemed to be concentrating on the island's faroff lights.

“Why won't you marry me?”

“I don't know.”

“I don't understand. We go through this every time we make love. I know you love me; I can feel it. Yet when it comes down to marrying me, nothing!”

Adriana could not deny what Kenny was saying. When she was locked in his embrace, her body did not hold back its pleasure. But, whenever he spoke of marriage, something inside of her shut down. She was afraid, and she did not know what it was that frightened her. All she understood was that he offered something she could not return because her soul would not let her do it. She felt that something inside of her was locked up, closed in on itself.

“Kenny, I'm about to finish my courses. After that I'll be able to begin work as a photographer. I need to see how that goes. I need time, that's all.”

He got to his feet, frustrated with her response. Without a word, he turned from her and made his way toward the car. Adriana followed him, but once in the car, he refused to speak to her as they drove toward East Los Angeles. That was the last time she and Kenny Wallis saw each other.

Adriana and Chan K'in remained silent for a long time facing one another, listening to the heightening of the jungle's nocturnal voices and murmuring. She felt the clamor intensifying their silence, creating an energy that coursed its way through her arteries, her bones, muscles, brain, her entire being. Adriana smiled at Chan K'in, nodded, and then turned to the satchel she still clutched in her hands.

“Viejo
, will you take care of this bag for me? It contains photographs and writings about the village. I think it's good material, and when I return, I want to send them back home.”

“I'll watch over your things. In the meantime, let me give you my blessing.”

Adriana bowed her head when she felt the weight of Chan K'in's gnarled hands on it. She had little memory of her father and mother, but she imagined them to be inhabiting the old man's body at that moment. It was their blessing that was coursing through her body and soul, and it came to her through the bony fingers of the old Lacandón man.

Their trek to the mountain began at nightfall. Juana explained that it was safer that way; the moon was full, and there would be enough light. As they began to make their way through the jungle, Juana said that they would be alone, but soon after this, Adriana felt that other people were walking along with them, heading in the same direction they were taking. Sometimes Adriana slowed down, focusing her eyes on the gloom that surrounded her and Juana, but she saw nothing; she could only sense forms of people somewhere nearby.

Juana, with only a rolled-up
petate
lashed to her back, silently led the way, picking her way through the matted undergrowth. Adriana, toting a full backpack, followed the diminutive figure closely and concentrated on her black hair twisted into a braid reaching to her waist, the embroidered blouse covering her narrow rounded back, the wide sash girding her hips, the dark woolen skirt hanging limply to her ankles.

As Adriana struggled with her load, she noticed that Juana moved steadily, confidently, each step placed carefully on the right spot. Her
huaraches
appeared to be part of the earth, curving around stones, molding themselves into the soft soil as she moved. Adriana's boots, on the other hand, became heavier, more cumbersome with each step, and she wished that she had exchanged them for sandals.

The women moved through the jungle for several hours, pausing only to relieve themselves or to drink water. Finally, Juana stopped and gave a signal with her hand; it was time to interrupt their march. Adriana was grateful because she felt fatigued, thirsty and sleepy. She
was soaked in sweat, and her hands and face were scratched and stung by mosquitoes. Adriana eagerly looked around, searching for a place to unroll her sleeping bag. As she did this, she again sensed that others were with them, but she still could not make them out. She saw nothing as she squinted. There were only shadows. She remembered the dream she had experienced the previous night. In it she had felt the same thing: others beside herself, in the jungle, lost and frightened. She decided that it was her imagination, prompted by her dreams and the ghostly shadows of the jungle.

“We'll rest here for a few hours. We can begin our march before dawn. We'll be in camp by sunrise.”

Juana spoke in clipped sentences, putting her lips close to Adriana's ear; it was almost a whisper. Without thinking, Adriana eased her head closer to Juana's mouth, and her nostrils picked up the other woman's scent, a smoky fragrance mixed with the aroma of damp earth. She nodded and watched her as she laid out her
petate
, on which she sat back on her heels. From a sack she took out
yuca
and, after a moment, she handed half of it to Adriana. They ate in silence until Juana spoke.