Erased Faces (8 page)

“You will make a good
compañera
.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I feel it here.”

Juana tapped her chest and smiled at Adriana, who wrestled with a flood of emotion. She stared at Juana, both hoping and fearing that she would say more, but Juana kept quiet, and after a while she rolled off her heels, reclined on her side and appeared to fall asleep.

Adriana tried to sleep, but she was so tired that she could not. Every time she began to drift off, a jerking muscle violently yanked her back. Not even the lilting sound of murmuring cicadas and chirping crickets that filled the jungle's darkness could put her to sleep. Finally, she decided to concentrate on the shadows cast by moonlight, hoping that this would help her relax.

She stared at a large spot, a lagoon of light, not far from where she lay. It shimmered like a mirror, reflecting different patterns against a tree trunk. As fronds and vines moved in the breeze, Adriana thought
she made out strange forms: a serpent wrapping itself around a tree; an enormous insect swooping over her, spreading its wings, fluttering and opening them, then closing in on itself; a creature with a pointed snout, sniffing, rummaging in the gloom.

Despite the heat Adriana shuddered. So she clamped her eyes shut and drew the top of the bag over her head, but the images persisted behind her eyelids. That bright jungle mirror seemed to reach out to her. She concentrated, trying to dispel its lure. After a while she was relieved when the reflections began to fade. Her mind calmed, drifted.

She remembered another mirror; she was eighteen years old. She was in the bathroom of the Ortiz home, naked and contemplating her body. Someone was knocking at the door, telling her to hurry. She continued staring at her reflection, ignoring the pleading. She looked at herself. No longer a child, she had grown tall, thin but shapely. Her skin was the color of coffee with cream, lighter in some places, darker in others, especially along the inner part of her thighs and the cleavage between her breasts. She stared at the nipples, which stood out taut, nearly black.

Her eyes shifted to the side and focused on the scar on her arm; she touched it carefully, softly, nearly expecting to feel the old pain. It was difficult for her to forget the anguish, and often she imagined that the scar was hurting her all over again. She closed her eyes to get rid of the sensation. When she opened them again, she looked below her waist, stopping to examine the mound of thick hair between her legs, and from there down to her knees, calves and feet.

With her eyes riveted on the mirror, Adriana gazed upward to her neck and face. There she saw a broad forehead, a straight, short nose, slightly bulbous at its tip. Beneath it were her full, wide lips, outlined by a dark brown hue tinged with purple. She lifted her hands to her hair, feeling its tight curls, its thickness. She then looked into her eyes, which peered back at her. They were almond-shaped with short, curled lashes; their pupils were dark brown, flecked with green.

The knocking became pounding, but Adriana refused to move. She was spellbound by the sensations welling up inside and outside of her body. Her skin and hair felt connected to desires she sensed in her mind, in her stomach, on her breasts, in the intimacy between her thighs. Soon the fists were hammering on the door with such force that she felt the vibrations on her shoulders. Suddenly, the door broke down, and something came at her, forcing her to run, to sprint through the jungle, naked and vulnerable. Her breath caught in her throat; she began to choke because her lungs had run out of air. Something was behind her, gaining on her, lunging at her. She cried out.

“Adriana.
¡Despierta!
”

She awoke to find Juana holding her. Drenched in perspiration and with her face smeared with tears, Adriana felt her heart pounding wildly; she could not breathe. She struggled against suffocation while she stretched and grabbed at the backpack, fumbling, tugging. She finally found the inhaler. She shoved it into her mouth and pumped, then she inhaled deeply and waited for her lungs to stabilize.

Juana held her in her arms until Adriana was able to calm down. She wiped the sweat off her face, all the time reminding her that it had been a nightmare, that she was safe, that nothing would harm her. Juana's soft words reassured Adriana, calming her, allowing her to again fall into a deep and this time peaceful sleep. She was unaware of how long she had slept until she became aware of Juana's voice.

“It's time.”

Juana was nudging her shoulders, whispering, trying to awaken her, but Adriana's sleep was sound, and it took her seconds to realize where she was and who was calling her. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind, but she was still half asleep, unable to distinguish where and how her dream had ended. Suddenly, she felt a rushing urge to relieve herself. She eased herself away from Juana's arms and crawled out of the sleeping bag stood up and walked to the ferns, where she unzipped her pants, squatted, and allowed her body to drain. Then she returned to where Juana waited for her.

Without saying a word, Juana turned and began to make her way through the jungle. Adriana looked around expecting to see someone, whoever it was that had pursued her in her dream, in her mind. She saw only trees and thick undergrowth. She walked slowly, following Juana, at the same time reminding herself that it had been only a dream, her imagination that had evoked those shadows. Nothing more. The words uttered by Chan K'in floated back to her, and she wondered if it really could be possible that perhaps in more than a dream she had been chased through this jungle in another era. She shrugged her shoulders, balanced her backpack, and picked up her pace behind Juana.

By the time the sun was rising, Juana and Adriana filed into camp. The fragrance of tortillas hissing on
comales
wrapped itself around Adriana's nose, making her mouth water. Despite being exhausted, she felt a burst of new energy as she took in her surroundings. She saw at a glance that the camp took up a large clearing in the jungle, where
palapas
and other structures served as shelters. In most of those huts, she noticed that there were weapons of different types.

To the side she saw a sturdier house with windows. It was raised on a foundation, with stairs leading to a deck, then to the front entrance. Juana made her way to that structure, and as she and Adriana approached, men and women came out to greet them with smiles and embraces. There was much noise and jabbering.

After a few minutes, however, Adriana perceived a marked change in mood. Serious expressions replaced smiles; joyful eyes became somber. Astounded, she looked around, taking in faces as she tried to discern the cause of the sudden change. Juana signaled her to stay where she was while she moved aside to speak with two members of the group. Adriana kept her eyes on the three, all the while knowing from Juana's body movements that something important was being discussed. In a few moments, Juana nodded and walked toward Adriana.

Meanwhile, Adriana's attention returned to the men and women milling around her. She saw that they were all indigenous. She was surprised by the number of women, most of them young, who had made themselves part of that army. She concentrated on their faces, on the strength reflected in their eyes. Those were the faces that the
world beyond the jungle would soon be seeing through the camera lens. There were a few older people, but most of that army of men and women, she noticed, appeared to be in their twenties and thirties. Adriana could not understand what they were saying in their language. She did realize, however, that no one spoke Juana's name. Instead, she heard the word “capitán” as it was repeated over and again in Spanish.

When they reached the stairs leading up to the house, the throng dispersed and Juana gestured to Adriana to put down her gear.

“Here I am known as Capitán Insurgente Isabel.”

“You're an officer?”

“Yes. We're an army.”

Adriana, not knowing what to say, kept silent. She inwardly reproached herself for being naïve, for not having prepared herself for what she was encountering.

“Why are you surprised? All armies have officers.”

“But you're a woman.”

“We're all equal in this army.”

“You even have a different name.”

“We give up our original names as we give up the old ways.”

Embarrassed, but not knowing exactly why, Adriana was at a loss as to what to say; she only nodded. Again, she admired Juana's way, the manner in which she transformed what could be complicated into something simple and natural.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Adriana looked through the entrance and caught glimpses of men and women in discussion. As she and Juana entered, everyone turned in their direction, momentarily surprised, but then obviously relieved to see them. Adriana sensed that they had been worried about their well-being. Along with this impression, she felt a heavy mood in the room; tension seemed to hang in the air like a pall.

Her eyes scanned those faces, moving from one to the other—seeing that some of the men were mestizos, and that they, as well as the women, were all armed. These men and women were the leaders—of this she was certain—and as she had done minutes before, she concentrated on expressions, observing the jutting jaw of the man turning
toward her, the prominent forehead of the woman looking intently at her, the nose of the woman standing next to her. Later on, when these same people would put on masks to erase their faces, Adriana would be able to recognize each one by the characteristics she first observed as she met them.

Again, Juana moved away from Adriana to approach one of the men. With him she engaged in a long, whispered conversation that betrayed surprise, then what Adriana interpreted as exasperation. As they spoke, the others kept silent, apparently knowing what Juana was hearing. When they were finished, she nodded to the man and returned to the group. Juana spoke in a low voice, her eyes shrouded as if she were thinking of something else. “
Compañeros
, this is Adriana Mora. She has agreed to become part of our cause and to chronicle the enterprise on film. From here, the images she records will go out to the world.”

Juana's voice was steady and clear as she spoke in Spanish. Adriana was moved by Juana's words because she had never been made to feel so welcome. The apprehensions she had experienced melted away, leaving her certain that what she was about to do was important and necessary.

Juana took Adriana to each of the officers, women and men, indigenous and mestizo. Even though they did not speak to her, she saw that they accepted her. Most of them shook her hand, others patted her on the shoulder.

“This is El Subcomandante, our spokesman.”

“This is Major Ana María.”

“This is Comandante Ramona.”

Juana paused when they neared a man who wore the long cotton tunic of the Lacandones over which he had strapped a cartridge belt and revolver at his waist. Adriana looked down at his feet, taking in the worn
huaraches
that did not cover heavily callused heels and toes. She noticed also that his feet were oversized, too big, for his mediumsized body, and that one toe was missing from each foot.

“This is Coronel Insurgente Orlando Flores.”

Juana paused as she looked at the officer, and her face took on a serious expression showing respect as she introduced the Lacandón rebel. She then went on to name the other insurgents.

After that she helped Adriana with her gear and showed her where she would stay. It was a
palapa
, like the one she had in Pichucalco. Here, too, was a cot with a net covering as well as a basin and water jug placed on top of a small table. Adriana understood that she was being shown privilege because she had already noted that the rest, males and females, inhabited the long, open huts along the fringe of the camp, and that they slept in hammocks.

From there Juana took her to the stream that skirted the living area and pointed to a bend where a waterfall churned up foam and spray. Then she showed her to the outhouses and to the communal kitchen. Everyone, she explained, helped with the cooking, cleaning and laundry. After the tour of the grounds, they returned to the
palapa
.