In The Time Of The Butterflies Part 24

Tuesday morning, June 28 (a bad night) I couldn't sleep all night for how worked up I was about the rumors. Then to top it off, the stench kept everyone else up, too. We're all angry at Dinorah for going in the bucket. Especially after we made our agreement to use the outdoor latrine at night so the whole cell wouldn't have to endure bad smells while we're trying to sleep. And except for b.l.o.o.d.y Juan, the guards are willing to take us out. (Especially Tiny, who gets his chance to "frisk" us in the dark.) It certainly comes out, living in such close quarters with people, which ones are only looking out for themselves and which ones are thinking about the whole group. Dinorah is a perfect example of the selfish kind. She steals into our food "locker," she swipes our underwear from the central rod when we aren't looking, and she has been known to report us for wall tapping with Cell # 60. At first, Minerva made excuses about how Dinorah learned bad civic habits from a corrupt system. But ever since Dinorah turned in Minerva's treasured packet of little notes from Manolo, my open-minded sister has become quite guarded around this so-called victim.

I know I've been reluctant to share certain things, but I usually reflect a moment and end up giving most of my things away. I always check with everyone to see if no one else wants the lamp a certain night, and I never hog my turn at the window for fresh air or drying laundry.

If we made up the perfect country Minerva keeps planning, I would fit in perfectly. The only problem for me would be if self-serving ones were allowed in. Then I believe I'd turn into one of them in self-defense.

Thursday night, June 30, heat unbearable, Santiclo Santiclo brought us some paper fans brought us some paper fans We've found a great new hiding place, my hair!

This is how it happened. Patria slipped me a clipping today, and I knew I'd be checked-like we always are-going in and out of the vsitors' hall. It's a pretty serious offense if you're caught with contraband. You might lose visiting privileges for as long as a month or even be put in solitary. I tried slipping it back to her, but b.l.o.o.d.y Juan was our patrol, and his hawk eyes weren't going to miss twice.

I was getting more and more anxious as the time was almost up. That newspaper clipping was burning a hole in my lap. Minerva made a hand sign we learned from Balbina that means, Give it to me. But I was not going to let her be caught and take the blame. Then I felt the heaviness of my braid down my back, and I got the idea. I'm always fooling with my hair, plaiting it, unplaiting it, a nervous habit of mine that's gotten worse here. So I folded that piece of paper really small, and, pretending I was neatening up my braid, I wound it into my hair.

And that's how the whole prison found out about the a.s.sa.s.sination attempt.

BETANCOURT ACCUSATIONS UNFOUNDED BETANCOURT ACCUSATIONS UNFOUNDED Ciudad Trujillo, Ciudad Trujillo, R.D. Spokesman Manuel de Moya expressed his outrage at the vicious and unfounded accusations of President Romulo Betancourt of Venezuela. Betancourt has accused the Dominican government of being involved in the attempt on his life that occurred in the capital city of Caracas, June 24. The President was injured when a parked car exploded as his own limousine paraded by. Speaking from his hospital bed, Betancourt announced he has again filed charges with the Organization of American States. When asked why a small, peace-loving island would strike out against him, President Betancourt confabulated a plot against his life by the Dominican government: "Ever since I brought charges of his human rights abuses before the OAS, Trujillo has been after me." De Moya regretted these insults to the virgin dignity of our Benefactor and expressed the openness of our government to any and all investigations from member nations who wish to ascertain the falsity of these malicious charges. The OAS has accepted the invitation, and a five-member committee is due here by the end of July. R.D. Spokesman Manuel de Moya expressed his outrage at the vicious and unfounded accusations of President Romulo Betancourt of Venezuela. Betancourt has accused the Dominican government of being involved in the attempt on his life that occurred in the capital city of Caracas, June 24. The President was injured when a parked car exploded as his own limousine paraded by. Speaking from his hospital bed, Betancourt announced he has again filed charges with the Organization of American States. When asked why a small, peace-loving island would strike out against him, President Betancourt confabulated a plot against his life by the Dominican government: "Ever since I brought charges of his human rights abuses before the OAS, Trujillo has been after me." De Moya regretted these insults to the virgin dignity of our Benefactor and expressed the openness of our government to any and all investigations from member nations who wish to ascertain the falsity of these malicious charges. The OAS has accepted the invitation, and a five-member committee is due here by the end of July.

Friday night, July 1, 1, no one can sleep, and not just because of the heat! no one can sleep, and not just because of the heat!

The mood here has changed overnight. Our divided movement is pulling together, gossip and grievances cast aside. The walls have been nothing but knockings all day long. The latest news I smuggled in!

Trujillo is in hot water now, and he knows it. He has to put on a good show when the OAS comes. There are all kinds of rumors that we are all all to be pardoned. Everyone is so hopeful! Except, of course, the guardias. to be pardoned. Everyone is so hopeful! Except, of course, the guardias.

When the gringos come, Santiclo asks us this evening, you girls aren't going to complain about me, now are you?

Yes, Santiclo, Delia teases him. We're going to say you had a soft heart for certain prisoners. You didn't treat us all equally. I never got mints or a ribbon for my hair.

Santiclo looks a little frightened, so I say, She's just teasing you, Santiclo. You've been a real friend. I say that to be polite, but then I get to thinking about it, and it is true.

That's why we nicknamed him Santiclo after the big, jolly American "saint" who brings gifts even to those who don't believe in Jesus or the three Kings.

Sunday night, July 10 (Mama sent us a flashlight) No OAS yet, but lots more rumors. The beginning of last week, everyone thought they'd be here by the end of the week. But now the rumor is they're waiting to see if Betancourt will live. Also they're working out how they'll conduct their investigations.

Just lock them in here with us, Sina says. We'll give them an earful.

Yes, Dinorah says. You girls give them an earful, then the rest of us will give them something else.

Everybody bursts out laughing. We've talked openly about it, and I can't say I really miss it, but some of the girls are ready to scream, they want a man so. And, I should add, it's not just the dubious "ladies" saying this. Minerva is the biggest surprise of all.

These girls can be so vulgar. Lord, in six months my ears have heard what they hadn't known about in twenty-four years. For instance, the girls have an elaborate system of body clues by which they can tell what kind of a man you're suited for. Say, your thumb is fat and kind of short, then you're bound to like men with a similar endowment elsewhere. I happen to have a short but slender thumb, and that proves I'm really compatible with a short, slender man with "average" endowments. Phew!

Some of these girls are sleeping together, I know. That's the only thing Santiclo won't allow. He says it's just not right. Once a woman is with a woman, she's ruined for a man.

I myself had a close encounter that turned out to be all right. With Magdalena the other night after our talk.

-Valentina just went by on her sneaky feet.

I better put this away and not try the devil twice. To be continued.

Monday afternoon, July 11, quiet time I mentioned the close encounter I had with Magdalena. This is what happened.

She was visiting over here one night, and we got to talking about ourselves, and finally she told me her whole life story. I'll say this, it's enough to break my heart. I've been going around for months thinking no one has suffered like I have. Well, I'm wrong. Magdalena has taught me more about how privileged I really am than all of Minerva's lectures about cla.s.s.

When Magdalena was thirteen, her mother died, and she didn't have any place to go, so she took a job as a maid for a rich, important family. (The de la Torres, real sn.o.bs.) Night after night, she was "used" by the young man of the house. She said she never reported it to her mistress, since she thought it was part of her job. When she got pregnant, she did go to the dona, dona, who accused her of being an ungrateful, lying wh.o.r.e, and threw her out on the street. who accused her of being an ungrateful, lying wh.o.r.e, and threw her out on the street.

Magdalena gave birth to a baby girl, Amantina, and for years they lived hand to mouth. Magdalena says the trash heap near the old airport was their bodega, and their home an abandoned shed near the runway.

Pobrecitas, I kept saying. I kept saying.

At some point, the de la Torres must have caught sight of the blond-headed, hazel-eyed little girl. They decided she was related to their son. They drove over to the new house where Magdalena was working and took the poor, screaming child away.

Tears brimmed in my eyes. Any story of a separated mother and daughter can get me started these days.

That's when Magdalena gave me this real serious look-like she was grateful to me for understanding. But then the grat.i.tude turned into something else. She came forward like she was going to tell me a secret and brushed her lips to mine. I pulled back, shocked.

Ay, Magdalena, I said, I'm not that way, you know. Magdalena, I said, I'm not that way, you know.

She laughed. Girl, I don't know what you mean by that way, like it's a wrong turn or something. My body happens to also love the people my heart loves.

It made sense the way she said that.

Still, I felt really uncomfortable in my narrow bunk. I wanted her knee touching my knee not to mean anything, but it did. I wanted her to leave, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Thank goodness, she got the hint and went on with the rest of her story.

-Quiet time is over. Minerva's hollering for us all to come do exercises.

I'll finish this tonight.

later The rest of the story is that Magdalena tried to get Amantina back. One night, she stole into the de la Torre house and climbed the same back stairs the young man used to climb down, and she got as far as the upstairs hall, where she was caught by the dona coming out of her bedroom in her nightdress. Magdalena demanded her child back and pulled out a knife to show she meant business.

Instead of shock I felt glee. Did you succeed?

What do you think I'm doing here? she said. I got twenty years for attempted murder. When I get out, she continued, my little girl will be my age when I came in. Then Magdalena began to cry like her tears were spilling out of her broken heart.

I didn't even think about her kissing me earlier. I just reached out and took her in my arms like Mama always does me.

Sat.u.r.day afternoon, July 23 Leandro is finally here with us! El Rayo says he's in Pavilion B with Manolo and Pedrito and the rest of the central committee.

Also, the ridiculous book is out. lComplot Develado! lComplot Develado! No one here has seen it yet, but we've heard it's an alb.u.m of all our photographs with a description of how the movement got started. Nothing that hasn't been in the papers for months already. No one here has seen it yet, but we've heard it's an alb.u.m of all our photographs with a description of how the movement got started. Nothing that hasn't been in the papers for months already.

I hope all those who wagged their tongues feel ashamed of themselves.

Wednesday evening, August 3-we got real chicken and rice tonight!

Minerva and Sina have been talking strategy to me since the news was announced this morning. It's as final as anything can be around here. The OAS Peace Committee comes this Friday. Only one prisoner from each pavilion will be interviewed. The head guards were given the choice. And they picked me.

Minerva says it's because they don't think I'll complain. And you have to, she says. You have to, Mate.

But they haven't done anything, I protest. They're victims, too, like you say.

But victims that can do a lot of harm. And this isn't personal, Mate, she adds. This is principle.

I never was good at understanding that difference so crucial to my sister. Everything's personal to me that's principle to her, it seems.

We've heard that the interviews won't be supervised, but that doesn't mean a thing here. The hall will be bugged with secret microphones, no doubt. It would be suicide to talk openly. So, Minerva and Sina have written up a statement I must somehow slip to the committee, signed by the Fourteenth of June Movement.

There is something else, Minerva says, looking down at her hands. We need someone to write a personal statement.

What about what Sina went through? I say. Have Sina write up something.

It's not the same, please, Mate. You don't even have to write it up, she adds. We can just tear out the pages in your journal and put them in with our statement.

There are other considerations, I tell her. What about Santiclo? If the statements are traced to me, he'll be shot.

Minerva holds me by the arms. Revolution is not always pretty, Mate. Look at what they did to Leandro, to Manolo, what they did to Florentino, to Papilin, to you, for G.o.d's sake. It won't stop unless we stop it. Besides, those are just rumors about the guardias being shot.

I'll see, I say at last, I'll see.

Ay, Mate, promise me, she says, looking in my eyes, please promise me. Mate, promise me, she says, looking in my eyes, please promise me.

So I say to her the only thing I can say. I promise you this, I'll be true to what I think is right.

Minerva has never heard such talk from me. Fair enough, she says, fair enough.

Sat.u.r.day, August 6 Minerva has asked me a dozen times what happened. A dozen times I've told her and the others the story. Rather, I've tried to keep up with their questions.

How many members were in the committee. (Seven in all, though two looked like they were there just to translate.) Where was the session? (In the visitors' hall-that's why we didn't have visiting hours Thursday. The authorities spared themselves the trouble of having to bug a new place.) How long was my session? (Ten minutes-though I waited two hours outside the door with a very nervous Santiclo.) Then, most importantly. Did I get a chance to slip the papers to a member of the committee?

Yes, I did. When I was leaving, a serious young man came forward to thank me and lead me out. He spoke a very polite, pretty Spanish. Probably Venezuelan or maybe Paraguayan. By the way he was looking me over, I could tell he wanted a closer look. Checking for scars or skin pallor-something. I had given La Victoria a good report and said that I had been treated fairly. What everyone else from the other cells had probably told them as well.

Just as he was turning away, I loosened my braid and let the first folded note fall on the floor. When he saw it, he seemed surprised and went to pick it up. But then he thought better of it and kicked it under the table instead. He gave me this pointed look. I returned him a slight nod.

Santiclo met me right outside the door. His jolly, round face looked so afraid. As he was walking me back down the corridor, he wanted to know how it went.

Don't worry, I said, and I smiled at him. It was actually his blue ribbon that I had used to hold both notes twisted in my braid. I unwound that ribbon just enough so the first note with the statement Minerva and Sina had drafted slipped out. It was signed The Fourteenth of June Movement The Fourteenth of June Movement so it can't be traced to any one cell. And what are they going to do, shoot all the prison guards? so it can't be traced to any one cell. And what are they going to do, shoot all the prison guards?

The second note with my story was lodged further up in my braid. Maybe it was the sight of that ribbon Santiclo had given me when I was so broken, I don't know. But right then and there, I decided not to drop the second note. I just couldn't take a chance and hurt my friend.

As far as Minerva is concerned, I kept my promise to her. I did what I thought was right. But I think I'll wait till sometime in the future to tell her exactly what that was.

Sunday afternoon, August 7-we're having a little party later We have been told to be ready for our release tomorrow!

None of the men are being freed, though, only the women. Gallantry to impress the OAS is what Minerva guesses.

I was so afraid she was going to get high-minded on me again. But she's agreed to go, since this is not a pardon but a release.

I think Minerva is close to her own breaking point. She has been acting funny. Sometimes, she just turns to me and says, What? as if I had asked her something. Sometimes her hand goes to her chest as if she is making sure she has a heartbeat. I am glad we will soon be out of here.

What hurts is thinking of those I'm leaving behind.

Every time I look at Magdalena I have to look away.

I've learned so much from you, I tell her. This has been the most meaningful experience of my whole life, I tell her.

I'm going to start crying before the party even starts.