I do not answer her because I cannot give her what she wants. The storm still blows as we struggle toward the small island. The cayuco tips far with each wave, but I do not stop. We must cross the waves this way to reach the island. The wind blows harder as if to stop me. I fight the waves so hard, I do not see the sun leave the sky. It goes down quickly, and soon it is dark. I keep fighting with each stroke toward the dark shape ahead.
I have almost reached the island when the storm decides to stop. The rain keeps falling, but the wind and waves give up trying to kill me. I do not know how long the storm has lasted. That is like asking me how many tears Angelina has cried. I know only that my body is very weak when at last the front of the cayuco bumps against the mangrove branches. I pull up the sideboard, and I paddle into the thick mangroves until we stop. Then I crawl forward over the deck to the front.
Angelina’s cries have changed to hiccups. “I want Mama,” she cries again and again.
“Do not stand,” I tell her loudly.
I know this island is not made of land. These mangrove trees grow from under the water and sit on a reef. Still they will protect us from the waves and the wind so that we cannot sink or tip over. I hear birds flying in the branches around us. I pull on the branches to float the cayuco deeper into the mangroves.
I tie a rope around a big clump of branches to hold the cayuco. Now we will not drift away as we sleep. Then I climb into the back. The sleeping mat is wet, and water has made a puddle in the bottom under the coconuts. But this does not matter. We will sleep on the coconuts. “Come, Angelina,” I say. I push my feet under the deck and slide my body in until the deck keeps the rain from falling on my face.
Angelina crawls in beside me. Tonight I do not need to tell her to lie down and go to sleep. She clings to my side. I hug her and then close my eyes. Coconuts poke our bodies like big fists, and then sleep swallows me.
13
PIGS IN THE CAYUCO
I SLEEP SO HARD, even dreams do not find me. I know that as I sleep, the cayuco rocks, the hard coconuts poke my back, and water drips on my face. But nothing wakes me. These feelings are part of my sleep.
Many hours later, sometime in the night, I wake up. I do not remember where I am. Then I remember that I am sleeping under the deck of a cayuco that is tied to mangroves somewhere on the ocean. There is heavy weight on my chest, and it is hard for me to move. I reach my hand to feel my chest.
It is Angelina.
She sleeps on my chest pressed between me and the deck. I cannot be angry that she does not want to sleep on hard coconuts. Carefully I move Angelina off my chest and pull myself to the back to sit up. Rain still falls, but during my sleep the waves have lost their strength. The cayuco rocks gently. I am still tired, but now my tiredness is only that of a lazy person who does not want to get up in the night and sail a small cayuco again on a dark ocean.
I do not think this rain will stop soon, but I know what I must do. Now there is no hot sun. The waves are gentle and roll north, pushed by a light breeze that blows from the south. The current flows past the mangroves like a slow river. It is better to sail now when the water and air are calm. There will be many times when the wind and the waves become angry.
Every part of me is wet except my mouth. My mouth is as dry as cut maíz under the hot sun. I stretch, and my muscles burn. Maybe this new day will go better. I stand in the rain and go to the bathroom into the dark water. Before leaving, I drink water from a plastic bottle, then carefully press part of the sail flat and let rain flow along a crease into the water bottles. The bottles must be kept full because rain might not fall again for a long time.
There is plenty of water now, so I wash the salt from my arms and head and legs. I also wash away the dirt and smell of horse dung that has been with me since the night we escaped. I must do the same to Angelina when she wakes up. Already her skin is dry and sore.
When I finish washing, I empty water from the bottom of the cayuco and untie it. The boat is heavy and hard to move. The current tries to keep me in the mangroves. Pushing hard, I float the cayuco backward. Before I paddle out onto the waves, I pull up the sail and drop the sideboard. Because of the clouds and rain, the North Star and the lights of shore cannot be seen. But always the current flows to the north. It is my invisible friend.
Soon the current pulls me away from the mangroves, and the sail swings wide to catch the wind. I pull the sail in and out until the cayuco sails straight with the waves, then I tie the rope. Quickly the mangroves disappear behind me into the black night. I sail to my right, away from the reef, because the current will be stronger in deeper water.
I look down and yawn hard. Angelina still tries to sleep on the coconuts, but her grunts and groans tell me she is not happy. When the sun comes up, my compass and map will help me to find the shore. Now I relax and let the ocean carry us into the night.
Sailing alone in the darkness allows new thoughts into my head. I do not know very much about the United States of America, but I am sure that the Americanos do not know that Angelina and I are in a small cayuco sailing each hour closer to their great country. What will they do when they find us? Will they be angry and tell us to leave? Rain wets my face as I think about this. We will not be able to answer this question for many days.
Water slaps against the cayuco, and the waves lift and drop me again and again and again. After many hours, the rhythm becomes a part of me and I do not notice it anymore. Now the sky grows light. Movement under the deck tells me that Angelina is awake.
“Come sit with me,” I say. “It is raining, but it is a good rain. I think the wind and the waves will not be strong today.”
“I am hungry,” Angelina says.
“Bring the fruit and the tortillas, and we will eat,” I say, pointing below the deck. “We must eat the salty tortillas first.”
Angelina crawls under the deck, and I hear her moving around. “Did you find the food?” I call.
“Yes,” she answers, but she does not return.
I wait until I think that maybe she has fallen asleep. “Angelina,” I call. “Did you find the food?”
“Yes, I am coming,” she calls back again.
Soon she crawls out from under the deck and hands me the package of salty tortillas and two bananas. She smiles with a smile that tells me she hides something. I take out two tortillas and hand her one.
“I am not hungry now,” she says. She pushes my hand away.
“Do you want a banana?” I ask.
She will not look at me.
“Did you eat some of the other tortillas when you crawled under the deck?” I ask.
She shakes her head hard like a dog shaking water from its hair.
“Angelina,” I say. “You must not lie to me. Did you eat something when you crawled under the deck?”
Again she shakes her head no.
“If there are tortillas missing from the other bag, I will be very mad,” I tell her.
“Maybe someone else took them,” she says.
“Angelina, there is nobody else on the cayuco,” I say.
Angelina’s face becomes very serious. “I think there are pigs in the cayuco.”
I look at Angelina and I think. “Okay,” I say. “If there are pigs in the cayuco, we must chase them away.”
“How?” she asks.
I reach under the deck into the big plastic pail. I hold up the little bag of candy that Silvia gave to us. “This is candy,” I say. I take out a red piece and hold it so Angelina can lick it. After she licks it, she reaches to grab it but I hold it away. “If there are pigs in the cayuco,” I say, “we must throw away the candy. That is why they come.”
Angelina stares at the candy and shakes her head slowly.
I pull my arm back as if I am ready to throw the candy into the ocean.
“No!” Angelina screams. “There are no pigs. I ate the tortillas.”
“You?” I say, pretending I am surprised.
She nods her head, ashamed.
Ma
king my face very serious, I look at Angelina. “We must always eat the bad food first,” I tell her.
“Why?” she asks.
“Because we are playing a very important game now.”
Angelina’s eyes open wide with excitement. “What is this game called?” she asks.
I speak as if telling a secret. “It is called Staying Alive.”
14
RIVER OF GARBAGE
AS THE SUN COMES UP, I explain to Angelina the rules of our new game. “We must always eat the food that will go bad first,” I say. “We cannot eat or drink more than we need because our food must last a very long time. And each day we must think how to make the next day better.”
“And we cannot let there be pigs in the cayuco,” Angelina adds.
I smile. “Yes, that is a good rule, too.” I look into the small bag and count twenty pieces of candy. “If you obey the rules,” I say, “you will win one piece of candy each night before you go to sleep. If you disobey, I will eat your candy that day.”
Angelina agrees to our new game, but I know this game will not be fun. Already her skin is cracked and dried by the salt water. Her hair is matted and tangled. Soon hunger and pain will keep her awake. To make sure there are no more pigs in the cayuco, I keep the candy in my pocket.
I make Angelina lie on the deck, and I wash her body with the rain that runs off the sail. She does not understand why this is so important. There are many things she does not understand. She does not know what waits for us still on this journey or that her stomach will be empty many times before we reach the United States of America.
“Do you think you can finish the hats before the sun shines again?” I ask.
Angelina looks up at the rain and then she looks at me with bright eyes. “Do I get more candy?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “But I will tickle you and tell you a very good story.”
As Angelina works on the hats, I eat two salty tortillas and one banana. Also I take my machete and cut another notch in the side of the cayuco. We have finished our second night on the ocean. This is good, but I do not know what I have learned. I have done nothing to make tomorrow better, and the rules of this new game are rules I must obey, too.
Even now, small waves splash water back into where I sit. I pick up the plastic bowl and empty more water from the cayuco. I do not know how I can keep water from coming into the open back of the boat. When bad waves wash over us, they will sink us.
I look at the sail and think about another problem. I know now that this cayuco can survive very strong winds, but once the wind blows strong, it is already too late to crawl forward over the deck to drop the sail. Maybe there is a way to drop the sail without leaving the back seat.
Yes, I think—there is a way. I have two ropes that reach out over the water to pull the sail pole in or to let the sail pole swing out. There is one rope on each side. One of these is very long. The extra rope from that side is tangled at my feet.
I untangle the rope and use my machete to cut off a piece three meters long. Carefully I crawl forward and tie this extra rope to the lifting rope that raises the sail. I watch the waves carefully as I untie the lifting rope from the mast. I loop the rope under the handle that is bolted to the bottom of the mast, then I crawl back to the seat. It is important to keep the extra rope tight as I tie it around the seat. Now the lifting rope reaches all the way back to where I sit.
With this extra rope added, I can untie the rope from the seat and let the weight of the sail bring itself down. After it is down, I can wrap the sail around the swinging pole and tie it for bad weather. I know it will be hard to find the tie ropes when the wind blows strong, so I tie them to the sail pole, ready.
As I rest, I take out the machete and chop open a coconut. Angelina drinks the milk because it is something she likes, then I chop the coconut into little pieces that can be chewed on while it rains.
That afternoon, we pass two other boats, but they are far away. One boat is a big ship, the other is a fishing boat that carries tourists. Angelina’s fingers stay busy making the hats. She works a little on one and then a little on the other. She wears her own unfinished hat while she works on mine. I think my hat will be worn out before she is done because she puts it on my head so many times.
As I watch Angelina with lazy eyes, my body relaxes and my eyes close for short moments. One thought bothers me. If sleep is hard to find now, what will happen when we have to leave land and sail without islands from the upper Yucatán of Mexico all the way to the United States of America? In the open Gulf, the wind and the waves will try to kill me. I will have no islands that will let me sleep.
No, I do not feel like a sailor now. Maybe a real sailor would not sail a cayuco to the United States of America. That is something only a fool does. But I know that soon, when I leave the Yucatán and sail across the Gulf of Mexico, by then I will need to be a sailor or we will die.
I am fighting sleep when the sky grows dark with the coming of night. Still it rains. I look across the waves and up at the low clouds. There is a large island with sand on the shores to the west of me. How good it would be to sleep on ground under a tree tonight. But this weather is good for sailing. If I waste this night with sleep, maybe the ocean will know I am afraid or lazy. I feed Angelina an orange and a salty tortilla before I give her a piece of candy. Then I let the island pass by us.
I ask Angelina, “Should we sail all night and look for stars that fall from the sky?”
Angelina looks up into the rain with doubt in her eyes.
“If the clouds go away, we will sail toward the North Star and try to catch it,” I say. “Go to sleep now. I will wake you up if I see the North Star.”
Angelina nods and pulls the petate over the coconuts and curls up. Soon she sleeps. Me, I sit and think. There is nothing to see, and only the sounds of the cayuco and the waves to keep me awake. There is no way to know my direction. All that I can do is sail with the waves tonight. The darkness becomes a tunnel without any end. Inside this tunnel there are waves and rain and wind. Each moment passes like an hour.
Memories of my family make me hurt, but they help me to stay awake. I think of my mother and father. I think of my brothers, Arturo and Rolando, and of my sister, Anita. I can remember Arturo laughing, hanging by his knees from a tree branch. I remember Rolando, who we all called the Singer, always singing funny songs. And Anita, who was only two years older than Angelina, but acted like her second mother.
Tonight my family is so alive in my mind, but in life they are all dead.
Angelina cries in her sleep. “Mama, Mama,” she calls. A large wave rocks the cayuco, and she wakes up. It is good that there is rain tonight. Angelina cannot see the tears on my wet face when she looks up at me. I smile at her and try to be strong. Never in my life has a night been this lonely.
The rain ends when it is still dark. A fresh breeze brushes the waves like a big hand, and I pull the sail in tighter. If the wind stays like this, I will have to angle toward shore or away from shore. I decide to sail toward shore. I do not want to sail too close, but it has been many hours since I have seen even one light from the land.
When Angelina wakes up, the clouds have left the dark sky, so I show her the North Star. She nods but stares across the water as if she sees nothing. Right now her tired mind has forgotten the game that we play. She crawls back under the deck. My head nods as I keep fighting against the sleep that wants to drown me.
Now the waves grow bigger. Each wave makes me work to keep the cayuco straight. When the morning sun brings the first light, I have the machete in my hand ready to chop a third notch in the side of the cayuco. I make this notch a little bigger because this night has been harder.
Angelina still sleeps as I look for shore with tired eyes. This is when I see the first garbage. From far away, I do not know what it is. It looks like a dark curving river on top of the water. When I sail closer, I find a river of floating garbage. Somehow the currents of the ocean have broug
ht all these things together as if looking for someplace to leave them.
I sail into the river of garbage and change my sail so I will stay with the garbage longer. I do not know what I am looking for. There are floating balls from fishing nets, many plastic bottles and bags, chunks of wood, old signs, plastic shoes, and even a gas tank from a car.
Ahead, something blue floats high in the water. I almost let it float past because I am not very awake. But then I see that it is a big blue plastic barrel. One end is crushed. I look at the boat and again at the blue barrel, then I paddle hard. I am thinking that maybe I can use the plastic barrel.
Angelina wakes up and watches me pull the barrel in beside the cayuco.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I am fixing the cayuco so my Little Squirrel does not get wet.”
Angelina looks proud that I am doing something special for her.
There is water inside the barrel, and I cannot lift it from the water. I grab my machete. It is not easy, but I swing hard until I have cut a large curved piece of plastic from the barrel. I take this piece of barrel and place it on the deck. I move it around until it sits like a windshield that protects me from the spray. Now I must find a way to tie it to the cayuco.
As I think, the cayuco keeps floating in the river of garbage. Much of the garbage is made from plastic. I pass a torn plastic backpack, candy wrappers, and even some old plastic chairs and tables. I look for more of the plastic balls that are used on fishing nets. At last I find one that has rope trailing behind it in the current.
“What are you doing now?” Angelina asks when she sees me cut the rope from the ball.
“I am still making something so my Little Squirrel does not get so wet.”
Angelina giggles when I call her my Little Squirrel.
“Can you help me?” I ask.
She nods.
I set the piece of plastic barrel on the deck. “Okay, hold it right here,” I say.
Angelina kneels in the cayuco and holds the curved plastic. I take the tip of my machete and dig a hole in the deck and one in the plastic. After I tie the plastic guard in place with a piece of rope, Angelina crawls under the deck to finish my hat. I work to carve more holes in the deck and the plastic guard.