Nilda (3 page)

Most of the children eagerly picked up their hands. Nilda put her hands on her lap. Although she would be ten years old in a couple of months, she had never received Communion. “Well, that's wonderful!” Father Shaw said. “For those children who have not received Communion yet, we will have a special religious instruction group every day. They will have a chance to catch up on Catechism.” His smile faded. “Rules are to be obeyed here. We deal with no nonsense. Let me warn everyone, especially the smart alecks, that any kind of misbehavior will be dealt with so that it doesn't happen a second time. We want no Judas or Jew!” Pausing, he then asked, smiling with humor, “Are there
any here, by the way?” The large nun was the first to laugh, bringing giggles and cries of “Noooooo” from the children.

Nilda thought of her stepfather's constant blasphemy and his many arguments with her mother, as he attacked the Catholic Church. I wish I could tell Papá, she thought. He might just convince Mamá to let me go back home right now, even before I have to open my suitcase.

In that same large room with the long wooden tables and benches, campers were fed their meals. Supper that night consisted of first, a clear soup, which was so tasteless that it took Nilda a while to recognize the flavor—it was chicken—then the main course, a sausage pie. The meat was wrapped in a soft dough having the consistency of oatmeal; it was served with creamed beets and grits, bread spread with jam and a glass of powdered milk. Dessert was stewed plums and prunes in a heavy syrup. Nilda was not very hungry.

One of the sisters walked up and down between the tables, watching the children. “Here we eat what's put on our plates. We don't waste food. That's a sin! There are many less fortunate children who go hungry in Europe and all over the world.” Nilda felt a sharp poke in her left shoulder blade. The nun was standing behind her. “You can do better than that, now.” Before she could turn around to look, the nun had walked over to another girl. “Eat what you have on your plate, young lady, because that's all you get until breakfast. I don't want to hear that anybody's hungry tonight.” Looking down at her food, Nilda put some of it on her fork and shoved it into her mouth. She tried not to think, as she chewed, of her mother and the good-tasting food she had at home.

A gong sounded. The sister clapped her hands. “All right, now just a minute, stay in your seats.” She walked around inspecting the children's plates. “Well, we're going to overlook
some of these full plates tonight because this is this group's first day here. Tomorrow we expect all the plates to be completely clean. Let's line up.” The girls in Nilda's section left the tables and formed a line two abreast.

A young nun walked up to the group of girls. “I'm Sister Barbara,” she said smiling. “Follow me, girls, and please no talking.” She led them out of the building and over to the dormitory where Nilda had previously put her suitcase. The building was very much like the others, two stories high, the outside concrete and brick. Inside, the walls were painted a dark color; the paint was peeling and large cracks were visible on the walls and ceiling.

The group of children walked along into the dormitory, a very large room with rows of army cots all made up. Army khaki blankets were neatly tucked in the cots. Each cot had a pillow with a white pillowcase and at the end of the cot was a footlocker. Sister Barbara turned, still smiling, and said, “Shower time. Get your robes and towels, pajamas and toothbrushes. We have a nice full day tomorrow and it's time to get ready for bed.” Nilda looked out; it was still light outside. She thought, Man, at home I could go outside and play with Petra and little Benji.

“Leave your clothes on, girls. We have to go to another building,” said the smiling nun.

Sister Barbara led the group outside and into another similar building only one story high. Nilda looked at the long room with benches lined against one side of the wall and showers lining the other side. She could see the toilets in the next room; none of them had doors, just toilets lined up next to each other. The girls started to undress. Nilda felt a little embarrassed, naked with all those girls she hardly knew. Some of the others were already under the showers. “Oooooooh, it's cold.” “Ayeeeee, it's freezing.”

“Now, girls, we're a little short of hot water so just go in and come out quickly, that's all,” said Sister Barbara, all smiling and pleasant. Feeling the goose bumps all over her body, Nilda
jumped in and out, drying herself and getting her pajamas and robe on. “Anyone who has to go to the john, go now.” A few girls walked into the next room. “You cannot go later, now is the time, before we get to bed.” Nilda was glad she had peed in the shower, and so she stayed put.

Back in the dormitory, Nilda noticed some food carts lined up against the side wall. They were all full of large bottles of Phillips' Milk of Magnesia. Set at the side of the bottles were tiny glasses that looked like the whiskey glasses they had at home for parties and Christmastime. Grabbing a cart by the handles, Sister Barbara started walking, pushing the cart over to the section where Nilda was. Still smiling and in a soft voice, she said to one of the girls, “It's time for our laxative.” She handed the glass to the girl. The girl did not respond; she sat there looking at the nun.

“How is it going?” a loud voice said. Nilda saw the same large nun who had introduced Father Shaw earlier that day. “They are taking their laxative, aren't they? I hope no one here is a baby and has to be treated like one.” Both women were now standing over the girl. Nilda watched as the older larger woman took the small glass out of the younger nun's hand and shoved it right up to the girl's face. The girl grabbed the glass and put it to her lips. “Hurry up now, quick, all at once! Let's go … the whole thing! No, no! Drink it all. There! That's it,” said the large nun. “Now, let's not have anymore fuss or I'll call Brother Sean. He has a very convincing friend, a good whacking stick that will help anyone here drink their laxative.” With that she turned and left, walking over to the other section of the dormitory.

Sister Barbara continued going to several cots and finally Nilda took a deep breath as she saw the smile on the nun's face directed at her. “You will take this, please. Time for our laxative.”

“I already went to the bathroom,” said Nilda.

“This is for tomorrow. This way you will be clean and pure when you greet God. Waking up, you will be ready to release
everything in your bowels, getting a fresh start before Mass.” Nilda looked and saw that Sister Barbara's smile never left her face. Like it was stuck on or something, she thought. Nilda reached out and took the small glass, holding it up to her lips. A wave of nausea hit her and she closed her eyes. As if anticipating what would happen, the young woman said, “None of that, now. I don't want to call Brother Sean. Nobody here has started this business so don't you be silly. Just drink it down.”

Closing her eyes, Nilda began to drink the chalky sticky substance. “All of it, that's a good girl. Go on! Drink it all down. Good. A little bit more. Good. Ah!” Nilda made a heaving sound. “Uh, uh, just swallow and keep it down. Don't let it come up. In a couple of days when you get used to it, you won't even taste it.” Smiling, she marched on to the next cot.

Nilda could feel the tears rushing out all at once. Pulling the covers over her head, she began to cry quietly. She licked the tears and welcomed the saltiness as it helped reduce the chalky taste in her mouth. She went on crying quietly until she fell asleep. During the night the sounds of sobbing and whimpering coming from the other cots woke her, but each time she closed her eyes, going back into a deep sleep.

The same large room that was used as the dining room and meeting hall was also used as a classroom. Nilda sat at one of the tables and daydreamed that she was back home. She missed her familiar world of noise, heat and crowds, and she missed her family most of all. All the nuns, priests and brothers were very white and had blue or light brown eyes. Only among the children were there dark faces. She wondered if Puerto Ricans were ever allowed to be nuns, fathers or brothers.

“I hope we can work real hard, children,” said the short nun, “so that when you return home you will be able to receive Holy
Communion and make your families happy and proud.” She walked around stiffly, stopping to ask the children if they had understood what she had said. She got very little response from anyone.

Papá wouldn't be proud. He would have a fit, thought Nilda, with a feeling of affection and warmth for her stepfather.

That night she looked around at the enormous dormitory with the many rows of army cots set side by side. The chalky taste of the milk of magnesia was still fresh in her mouth, making her feel nauseous.

The lights had been turned out already. She could hear a lot of quiet crying and whimpering. She started to think of home. Why am I here? Did Mamá know about this place? She remembered her mother with her portable altars for the Virgin Mary and all the different saints. Nilda's mother set these altars all over the apartment. Always lighting candles, saying prayers, visiting the spiritualist, who gave her all kinds of remedies and special prayers. Mamá is always asking God or a saint for miracles. She is always talking about fate and that there is a divine reason for things. “A Destiny. Everything is written for you already up there!” That's what Mamá says, she thought. We must not offend God. All of a sudden it all became perfectly clear to Nilda. Wow! I must have done something very bad to offend God! Something really really bad. She started to think about all the “bad” things she had done in her life. After a while she decided that it must be one special thing, or several things, or maybe everything!

Well, whatever it is, I'll repent. I'll repent it all. But now that it was time to repent she realized that she was in bed for the night. Once they put out the lights she could not leave her bunk. She had to do something right now, at that moment. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I promise you, oh Virgin Mary, to sleep all night with my hands folded across my chest just like you look in some of the statues I seen in church. I will recite all the prayers I
know and some I just learned. And I promise to think only pure thoughts all night long.” Shutting her eyes tightly and folding her arms, she said, “Please, oh please, let me go home tomorrow.”

After breakfast the next day, there was a rumor that everyone was going to be sent home. As she heard the children talking, Nilda was both happy and frightened at the same time. Everyone was whispering and talking about going home. In the early afternoon all the campers were called in, assembled in the big dining hall, and seated at the long tables. The large nun entered, walked over to the other nuns and began whispering. Nilda heard the kids.

“We're gonna be sent home.”

“Yeah, that's what I heard.”

“Do you think it's true?”

“Maybe. I overheard some of the brothers and they said …”

Nilda was afraid to comment or respond lest she break the magic of the miracle that was about to happen. If they knew, it might spoil it all, she thought.

The large nun walked to the front of the hall and began speaking. “I am here for Father Shaw. He had to attend to some urgent business regarding the camp.” Nilda's heart was pounding and she could hardly hear or understand what the large woman was saying. “Something has gone wrong with the plumbing and there is no water. Some of you will be sent home today and others will be sent home tomorrow.” A huge cheer went up. The children were elated, jumping up and down on the benches. “Stop it! Stop the nonsense or I'll send for Brother Sean this minute,” she said, clapping furiously. “Unfortunately,” she continued, “we cannot fix the plumbing or the pipes. There is no water available. This is a major repair job which we cannot do this year.” This brought giggles and happy sighs from some of the tables. “Quiet, quiet!” she clapped. “Now next year …” Closing
her eyes with a sense of joy and relief that shook her body, Nilda stopped listening.

Back in her dormitory, packing away her things in her suitcase, Nilda was filled with happiness at her liberation and secretly guarded her miracle. “It worked!” she whispered. See, she said to herself, just like Mamá always says, faith is very powerful! Looking about her and making sure nobody saw her, she made the sign of the cross and whispered, “I'll never doubt You again. I'll be a believer, dear Jesus and Virgin Mary.” And so she made her solemn vow right there in the large dormitory, with the very best of intentions.

“Y
ou'll be late for Mass, Nilda. Hurry! Are you going alone?”

“I'm not gonna be late, Ma. I'm picking up Petra and maybe little Benji is coming.”

Summer had gone by and school had started. Nilda still felt she ought to keep her promise to the Virgin, to believe. Since the “miracle” in camp she had attended Sunday Mass regularly. But it was getting harder and harder each Sunday morning, especially since her brothers never went to church and could sleep late. When she complained of unfairness, her mother would say, “They are boys, Nilda; what does it matter? But you, you are a girl. For you it is essential. Oh yes.” This explanation did not make sense to Nilda, especially since her mother never went to Sunday Mass. She preferred instead to go to church during the week. “I have special prayers and novenas to say, Nilda. They are best dealt with during the week.”

Now, Nilda could hear her stepfather grumbling in the bedroom. “Bunch of shit, filling her head with that phony stuff. Fairy tales in order to oppress the masses. Teaching them that to be good is not to fight back, is to take crap.…” He went on, “They're afraid of the revolution—”

“That's enough!” interrupted her mother. “What you say has nothing to do with God. One has to have faith. Faith is very powerful, especially faith in God. He will provide.”