Candela

~One~ It was still dark. Juana Fuentes woke up from a dream. Her dead grandmother, Tula, had come back with a message. Juana listened quietly to the outside sounds of crickets and to the insistent call of an owl. It was important to remember the dream because Grandmother Tula only visited Juana to warn her about bad things coming her way such as death, illnesses and tornadoes. Instinctively, she hugged her swollen belly and prayed to the orishas to protect her daughter. She had known it was a girl. Ochún, the deity of the rivers, had appeared in front of Juana and told her as much. Juana had decided to name her child Caridad in honor of La Caridad Del Cobre, the patroness of Cuba, Ochún. Next to Juana, Ramon snored. His breath was loaded with the fumes of cheap rum. After years of begging, Ramon to stop drinking, with no results, Juana felt resigned. She looked at him, wishing he would be there to hold her and reassure her. All the anger she kept inside erupted. She wanted to scream cabron, sinvergüenza, and push him off the bed. Instead, Juana took a deep breath and then another until her heart slowed down and she felt calm. She reminded herself of the early years of her marriage when Ramon was not a borracho. Back then, Ramon worked hard on the farm and dedicated his free time to her and the children. Those were the days when her Ramon would take her to town on Sundays, for lunch at Café La Carreta. They ate their usual Pan con Bistec and drank their cold Hatuey beer. They walked around the park, holding hands, and Juana took measure of the envious looks of other women. Ramon was very handsome with his white guayabera and his panama hat. Then, he was tall and slender. Now, his beer belly constantly popped out the buttons of his shirts. On the way home, they had always stopped at the guarapera to get large glasses of fresh sugar cane juice. A strong kick inside her belly brought her back to reality. Juana gently patted the side of her barriga. Then she poked Ramon to get him to stop snoring. He didn't move. She pushed him. Ramon turned on his side. Juana cursed the day Ramon started going to the bar in the evenings. After a while, the domino games with his friends lasted longer. Ramon was not only coming home later but he was leaving earlier. Everyday, as soon as Ramon finished tending to the farm, he showered off the dirt from the fields. He shaved and put on clean and well-ironed clothes and left for town. It became obvious to Juana that he was doing more than playing dominoes. The smell of perfume left on his clothes by other women flooded the air at his return. By then, the children were already asleep and Juana was too tired to pick another fight. Ramon was a loser! His own mother advised her to leave him. Juana had thought of walking away many times. But it was not easy for a woman to find a decent job in a small town. For a while, she contemplated the idea of moving back to her parents’ home in the Sierra Maestra hills. The children could stay with them while she worked at the cafetales, picking coffee beans. But there were no schools in the mountains. The thought of her niños not getting an education deterred Juana from her plan. Tired of the loud snoring, Juana struggled with her heavy belly to get up from the bed. Her whole body felt like big sack of potatoes. Finally triumphant, Juana stood on her feet. Through the semi-opened curtain of the window, the tender rays of the sun were filtering inside. Juana was glad the night was over. Slowly she walked to the kitchen to start her daily routine. Nothing was easy in her life, she complained to herself as she worked at lighting the rustic wood stove. Once again, there was no milk for the traditional café con leche. Ramon was too drunk to get up and milk the cows. "Oh Dios hasta cuando!" Juana grumbled. She was so furious she didn't notice Martin, her ten year old son right behind her. The boy was standing by the kitchen door, holding a canteen full of milk. He was proud of himself. "Mami." "Mijo querido!" Her eyes filled with tears. She went and hugged Martin. Her little man! Ramon stayed in bed until well past ten. Juana did not nag him to get up. She busied herself with sewing a blanket for her unborn baby. When Ramon finally came out of the room, he asked Juana to cook him some breakfast. Juana ignored him and continued her work. Upset, Ramon went to take a shower. Twenty minutes later, he was dressed in a clean shirt and pants. The smell of after shave lotion and cologne traveled to Juana's nostrils. She held her nose. Ramon disregarded the gesture. Instead, he grabbed his hat from the hook on the wall of the living room and left the house. By late afternoon, the children returned home from school. They ate a snack of fresh papaya and cheese. Lourdes cleared the table. At age eight, she was a big help around the house. Also, she kept an eye on her six-year old brother Javier and four year-old sister Carmen. After Lourdes helped Juana with the dishes, she invited the younger kids to play a game of parchesis. The three of them settled on the floor of the living room. Martin changed his clothes and went outside to feed sancocho to pigs in the corral. Juana returned to the kitchen. She sat at a small table where she could peel the potatoes for the carne con papas. Her mind traveled to the time when Ramon built the modest Cuban–style bohío made of palm tree trunk and thatch lashed together. They were about to get married and Ramon promised her a bigger house with many rooms for their future children. The knife dropped from her hand. She leaned over to pick it up and…her water broke, the warm fluid running down her thighs and legs. The labor pains hit her strong. She clenched her jaw. She looked out the small window that faced the dirt road to town. She imagined her selfish husband sitting at the local bar, drinking straight shots of rum, while a prostitute slobbered her sloppy kisses all over him. The labor pains became more intense. Juana knew she couldn't wait for Ramon. With her arms around her swollen belly, she walked to the door. She called Martin. The minute the boy heard the voice of his mother he came running. And before Juana could tell him, Martin knew it was time to go and get the local midwife. He placed the bucket of leftovers on the ground and took off down the road. Juana did not waste any time. Having given birth to four children, she knew they came down the birth canal fast as a bolt of lightning. She ordered Lourdes to gather white sheets and towels. "Carmen, put more wood in the stove." Juana shouted, and she twisted from the sharp pains. "Please, Lourdes, fill that pot with water." Juana held her belly and walked to the bedroom. "Go and get your tía Fita." Lourdes helped her mother rest on the bed and then ran to get her tía. In between the screams, Juana prayed to her saints. Alone in the room with her pain every minute seemed like an eternity. When the prayers were not enough, Juana cursed Ramon, his drinking and all the prostitutes in town. By the time Lola arrived at the house, the head of the baby had crowned. As an experienced midwife, Lola exuded calmness from every pore of her skin. She examined the situation and told Juana to relax. Juana took a deep breath and thanked all the orishas. Lola's strong hands had pulled hundreds of babies into the world. Even the doctor in town consulted her on difficult cases. At age sixty, she was the queen of the parteras. As soon as Fita arrived, Lola put her to work. Fita was nervous. She was anxious by nature but she had promised her sister to help. She went back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom, carrying bowls of hot water, bringing towels and sheets. Lourdes helped out with tending to the fire in the stove. One of the times when Fita came back to fill the palangana with water, she noticed Lourdes was throwing too much wood into the fire. "Lourdes mi amor, be careful." After filling the b