“Ali, what are we going to do? We don’t have any food or money,” I whined.
“Man, do you ever stop? Your mouth is like a fucking motor. Just chill for twoseconds so I can think about what we’re going to do,” he said.
My mouth snapped shut. I looked down and angrily began to poke my fingers in thedry patches of the lawn.
“Don’t catch no attitude with me. What? You think that I’m not sad that mommy’s injail or that I’m not mad about how daddy treats us? You think that I’m not scared?” hesaid. I just stared at him in silence. I had never heard him talk like this before.
“No, I don’t know what we’re going to do or where we are going to go. But anythingis better than living in a fucking orphanage or with strange people who don’t give a fuckabout us,” he spat. I blinked my eyes a couple of times. Yes, we needed to stay together.We needed to be a family. My heart opened up, and at the moment, I realized that mybrother really did love me. I knew that he would rather burn in the pits of hell before headmitted that, but in my heart, I knew that it was true.
“We’ll rest for a little bit and then we will get up and look for food,” he said whileturning on his side. It was cold and food was just my first concern. What about shelter,school, clothes? What about protection, guidance and love? How would we ever get that?My heart felt heavy. I wanted to see the elderly woman again. I wanted to tell Ali abouther, but he would get angry with me and call me crazy.
I could feel someone hovering over me. Excitement began to surge through my veinsand my eyes popped open. I gasped when I saw the elderly woman again. A chain with ablack and white emblem was dangling from her neck. I had so many questions to ask her.Quickly, I sat up.
“Where have you been?” I demanded. I was happy but still a little annoyed. She hadmade a promise to me that she would always be around, but when I needed her, I couldn’tfind her.
“Shoosh!” She said placing her hands to my lips.
She pulled back my bedcovers and motioned for me to crawl out. I was in bed? Ilooked down and realized that I was dressed all in white. I placed one small foot on thecold wooden floor and looked around me. The room was tiny and old, with draftywindows. There was one single bed in the center of it. There was no light, but a halfdozen white candles were lit. I could hear the mosquitoes buzzing, the crickets chirpingoutside. Where was I? She led me to a door, opened it, and led me down a narrowstaircase.
The basement was cramped with people. They all looked over and smiled at us as webegan to make our way down the stairs. They created a man-made path for us to walkdown. I looked up and saw towering figures that I didn’t recognize. Who were thesepeople? And what were they doing here? The women looked like adult size rag dolls.Their dresses were an assortment of drab colors and patterns, many of which lookedfaded from too much wear and wash. Their heads were wrapped with checkerboardpattern kerchiefs with aprons wrapped around their waste. Many of the men wereshirtless with dungarees that were either stained or ripped at the knee. Some worebreeches with splinters of loose thread dangling from the cloth. Their feet were bare, withcrinkly toes and heels that looked hard and chapped like sandpaper. The elderly womantook her place in the front of the room. I walked over and sat on the floor next to her. Mydress was a little too short, and I timidly tried to pull it down as I struggled to find adecent sitting position.
There were women walking around with trays filled with food. One woman dressedin an old fashion tunic and an African style headdress kneeled down to offer me one. Igrabbed a vanilla covered pastry and bit into it; my taste buds tingled when I discoveredthe sweet tasting jelly that was hidden inside of it. There was a brief moment of silence.Three dark-skinned men entered the room. They were carrying oddly shaped instrumentsthat looked like double neck drums.
They sat in a small corner of the room, whispering and perhaps deciding on whattune to play first. They seemed to have all reached an agreement. Their hands began todance across the drums as their heads bobbed up and down. They played songs thatheightened the energy in the room. One man stood up and began to sing, his rich voiceresonating a baritone base. All eyes were on him as he moved his feet from side to sideand shook his hands like he was playing an invisible pair of maracas.
After his song was finished, a woman took the stage. She had to be the oldest personin the room. People began to settle down as they hovered in closer to listen to her. I stolea peak at the elderly woman. She read my expression and leaned over and whispered tome.
“Just sit and listen,” she said.
I watched the woman as she began to speak. She had to be over seventy years old. Icould tell that her teeth needed a great deal of work. Her tongue hissed, as it slitheredacross missing caps and crowns.
“There are no records, only stories about the secret of our survival. There was oneworld, off in a great and distant land, a land that was balanced and filled with abundancewhere no man, woman, or child suffered. Until one day a brujo name Olosi come along,practicing witchcraft called brujeria. He tempted man,
