Read Let Their Spirits Dance Online
Authors: Stella Pope Duarte
“Where's your green card, homeboy?”
“Fuck you!”
“Oh, shit!” I open the door and start to get out. The rookie is out of the police car, shouting at me.
“Ma'am, stay in the vehicle!” The rookie's a tall redhead, with pale skin. He's wearing sunglasses that have blue lenses in them. He plants himself between our car and theirs.
The first officer throws the van door open and yanks Paul out. “Lean on it, homeboy, lean on it!” He shoves Paul up against the van. “Spread 'em,” he shouts, taking out a billy club and hitting Paul's legs.
“Que pasa, mija, what's happening?” My mother is on the edge of her seat.
“It's OK, Mom, Paul knows what to do.”
“The police, Alicia. The police are arresting Paul!” Irene is almost in tears.
“No, Irene,” I tell her. “They're only asking him questions.”
“When have the police asked Mexicans questions? They throw us in jail, that's what they do.” Mom puts her hand on the handle of the car door as if she's going to open it.
“Mom, stay in the car. Didn't you hear what the officer said?”
“Mom, they're gonna take TÃo Paul away!” Lisa is shouting.
“Be quiet! You're making everything worse,” I tell her.
The rookie starts radioing for backup.
“Where'd you get your tats?” the first officer asks Paul.
“Where your momma got hers,” Paul says.
“A smartass! Hey, Harry, we got us a smartass!” Donna says something to the officer I can't hear. “Stay out of this, or you'll join your boyfriend!” yells the officer. He twists one of Paul's arms behind his back, up to his shoulder.
“How you like that, huh, talkin' shit about my momma!” He slaps on a pair of handcuffs.
“Wait a minute. Ease up on him,” says the rookie. “I just got the word. This is the Ramirez family. They're on their way to the Vietnam
Wall. Look over there.” He points to Priscilla's van and the signs Michael put up on the windows.
“They're a bunch of fucking illegals, and you know it! Vietnam Memorial Wall! Shit, these people don't know nothin' about that.”
“I'm telling you, there'll be hell to pay,” says the rookie.
Chris opens the car door and is ready to get out when the first officer reaches for his gun. “STAY THE FUCK IN THE CAR!” he shouts at the top of his lungs.
“Chrisâ¦what are you doing? The guy's crazy!” I tell him.
“He's a psycho, the son-of-a-bitch!”
Mom opens the back door and is out before I can stop her.
“Mom, stop! Mom, noâ¦get back in the car! Look at her! Where's her cane?”
My mother doesn't answer. “I'm warning you, ma'am,” says the first officer, “get back in the car or I'll⦔
“You won't do anything to me,” my mom says in a voice so calm, the officer doesn't say another word. “This country already took one of my boys, Mr. Policeman. You can't have the other one.”
“Mom, go back!” Paul shouts. The rookie steps aside and lets her walk by.
“No, mijo.” She walks up next to Paul and leans on the van, her arms raised over her head. “Take us both,” she says.
“What is she, a Chicana Rosa Parks?” My mother holds her head so high, the curve in her spine disappears. I'm out of the van, rushing to get next to her. I hear sirens approaching and the two-way radio is turned on full blast.
“I'm fine, mija. No es nada. I've seen this all my life. We have to teach these gringos something.”
Two more police cars rush to the scene. Traffic is slowing down in both directions and three cars have stopped on the opposite side of the street.
“We got a mob resisting arrest!” yells the first officer.
“We got nothing!” shouts the rookie. “They're people traveling to the Vietnam Wall. I already told you. My kid looked them up on the Internet. Don't you see the address on the windows?”
Michael's out of the van, shouting at the officers. “My dad has constitutional rights! You can't do this to him. You'll seeâI'll take this case all the way to the Supreme Court. You can't harass an American citizen!”
“Shut that kid up!” yells the first officer.
“No,” my mother says. “He's a genius, officer. He can't help himself.”
Everybody's out of the vans and lined up around Paul's van. Irene stands at Mom's side.
“Where's your green card, officer?” Yellowhair asks. “You're standing on my land. My family's been here for forty thousand years. I think these cops are descendants of the fuckin' Texas Rangers.”
“Don't you know, Yellowhair,” says Gates, “he's one of the white masters who wants everybody to bow down to him? They did all this shit in South Africa to Nelson Mandela himself! Mandela had to carry identification papers to travel in his own country! Don't you know we all look the same to this guy? This guy's so stupid, he can't tell his ass from a hole in the ground!”
“Shut up!” yells the first officer, “or I'll arrest you for harassing a police officer.”
“Gee, I'm terrified,” Gates says, laughing. “And to think I risked my life in Nam for your white ass!”
Willy is snapping pictures. “Wow! Won't this make interesting news. âKansas State Police Arrest Family on Their Way to the Vietnam Wall.' Is nothing sacred anymore?”
“No need for that,” says one of the backup officers. He's holding a clipboard in his hand. His voice is somber. “The officer, here, just made a little mistake. He acted a little too quick. He's got you confused with a group of illegals we're trying to stop from running over the state line. It's obvious you're not them, so you can go on your way. You're the Ramirez family, aren't you?”
I ignore his question. “Just like that? You're gonna let us go after you harassed us and embarrassed us in front of these two elderly women and our own children? I don't think so!” I turn around and ask Manuel if he's got something to write on. He hands me a notepad and pen. I start writing down badge numbers while the first officer unlocks Paul's handcuffs. The Guadalupanas are whispering prayers, anticipating our final escape.
Chris helps me write down the badge numbers. “You'll hear from us, all right,” he says to the officer with the clipboard. “That you will!”
Priscilla's shouting, “Don't have much to do out here, do you? Need to play games with people's lives. Well, you messed up real good today. We're Chicanos, been here before your grandpappies were born, and we'll see your asses in court for this! This immigration scam is an old story, man.”
“Calm down, Priscilla,” Manuel tells her. “These guys should learn their history lessons before they get to be cops.”
“I apologize to you, ma'am,” the rookie says to Mom. “I hope you don't think all Kansas state police officers are the same. Trust me, I'm not like that.”
“There is good and bad everywhere,” my mother says. “I've seen this all my life.”
Paul holds Mom in his arms. She lays her head on his chest. “Mom, why did you do this? Here, let me help you back to the van.”
“I have to be here for you, mijo. What do you thinkâthat I love Jesse more than you? I love you both, con poder, but different because you're different people, but you're both my sons.” She looks into his face. “Don't you know, mijo, that if you were on the Wall, I would be making this trip for youâyes, I would!” They're both crying. Paul is stooping down to hug Mom, cradling her in his arms.
Paul walks Mom back to the van, with Irene at her side. Suddenly, Mom is left with no strength. She used it all up to defend her son.
At Topeka, I hear Paul and Michael talking about police brutality and the Rodney King case while we're unpacking. Seeing them together is getting to be normal. I watch them move in unison as they unpack the van, and smile to myself. Michael is almost as tall as his dad. Lisa helps Mom and Irene out of the van. The Guadalupanas are holding on to each other, making their way to their room. The day has wearied them.
The sun is setting over the horizon, and a veil of gray, wispy clouds appears. There's moisture in the air. I breathe it into my lungs, aware that I am at the heart of a nation I know nothing about. Rays of the setting sun turn the sky bright orange. Don FlorencÃo used to say Chicanos are descendants of the sun people, and I'm not sure that's what I want to be. I'd rather follow the moon and hope not to be sacrificed to an angry god. I'm not amused by obsidian knives. I'm baffled by the brutality of my ancient ancestors. Violence and the oppression of others is a mystery to me. Could I have done what the Kansas State Police did? Could I ever be as brutal as the sheriff's deputies were on the day of the moratorium march? Playing with violence and power is familiar to all of us. That's another reason we're on our way to the Wall. We're victims of the lust for violence and power that led this nation to the madness of Vietnam.
April 1, 1968
Dear Sis
,
Thought I'd write you on April Fool's Day, except I don't have anything to fool you with this year. I hope you played a trick on Paul and
Priscilla, just to keep up family tradition. Remember when I told them I had caught a real alligator in the sewer, then when they paid me a quarter to see it, it turned out to be a lizard I had trapped in the yard? I had them convinced it had shrunk to the size of a mini-alligator because it didn't have enough waterâboy I had them going! Then I yelled “April Fool's Day!”âand they both jumped me, but I was laughing so hard I couldn't even push them off of me. I was rolling around in the yard laughing until my stomach hurt. Those were the days, que no
?
I think Don FlorencÃo played a joke on me over here in Vietnam. I dreamed about him on April 1st and guess what? I saw him dressed up like a woman! It was him, I swear it was. He had on this headdress that looked like one of those Aztec warriors, he was smoking his ironwood pipe, but he had on a dress, a long dress. I looked at him and asked him, “Is that you, Don FlorencÃo?” “Yes, mijo,” he said. He looked at me like he always did, like he was looking right into my heart. There was a light shining behind him, real bright, but it didn't hurt my eyes. “If it's you, why are you dressed like a woman?” I asked him. “Men and women don't live where I am,” he said, “only spirits. It doesn't matter anymore if you are male or female, it only matters how you lived your life.” Then he sucked on the end of his pipe and I swear I smelled that sweet tobacco he used to smoke. The smoke made a big circle around us and held us together, and there we were, him dressed like a woman, smoking a pipe and me in my Army uniform with this light all around. It felt so good, I can't explain it. I felt powerful, like I had just won a prize. Then I stooped down to clean my boots, but they weren't boots, they were a pair of sandals, brown sandals, like huaraches. And I thought it doesn't matter anymore, sandals will get me where I have to go, I don't need my boots anymore. Doesn't El Santo Niño wear sandals
?
Write me back real fast. We're moving out all the time so I don't know when you'll get this letter. We're trying to stay out of the killing zone, but that's hard to do because we don't know where it is. It could be ten feet away from here. Charlie's a guerrilla so the whole place is a battlefield. The other day I passed this little altar set out on the road. It looked so pitiful, a house for wandering souls. Maybe somebody will put one up for me. Don't worry, sis, it can't be that bad. I saw a guy die the other day. I didn't really know who he was, but man he was hurting, then all of a sudden his face got all soft and peaceful, like he was looking through everybody, and then he died. Maybe death is just a change of view. We see things one way over here, and we'll see them dif
ferently on the other side. Do you think God is male and female? I never thought I'd ask anybody that. I know one thing. He understands Vietnamese, cause these people are praying all the time. I haven't seen the family I told you about lately. I guess they moved all their village out. I'm trying to find them because of their daughter, she's the one teaching me Vietnamese. I miss her. Any guy would, but I'm the lucky one even though the whole family has to be there every time I talk to her. I'll tell you more later
.
I'm looking at some farmers working in a rice paddy. These people are unbelievable. They go on working no matter what's happening. The rice seedlings need lots of work, planting, transplanting, until the rice is full grown. I didn't know that. So much of the country is destroyed by bombs, Agent Orange, and napalm. It's weird to see one side of a hill all green, and the other side burnt off. It's like the U.S. can't make up their minds to kill them or let them live. I guess maybe that's peace to our country, that they can go to another country and take over. In other words, let us destroy you, then we'll have peace. One of the colonels said the other day that the way to end the war was to haul Vietnam out into the middle of the ocean and bomb the hell out of it. They should haul his ass out to the ocean see how he likes it
.
I'm tired, sis, so tired. Maybe I'm not making sense. I haven't slept for two days, lots of shit happening. Give Mom and Nana a kiss, hug dad. Be sure Priscilla and Paul eat their Cheerios. What I would give for a box of cereal right now. I'd take this letter out to the mailbox for you, but there aren't any. Sorry if it gets to you late. We're on a special mission, whatever that means
.
Some old man is waving at me. These people look at us los Chicanos like we're one of them. We look more Vietnamese than American, that's for sure
.
Hey, did I tell you, they got rubber trees out here, giant trees. It reminds me of that song, what did it say that an ant can't move a rubber tree plant, but we've got high hopes or something like that. So add that to the list of why we're here. Rubber trees, another money maker
.
I think a chopper's coming in. The old man is waving and jumping up and down. We'll give him some C rations if it's the relief flight. Tell Espi I'll write when I get a chance. I'm glad I finished this letter, maybe it's the last thing I have to do
.
SWAK
Jesse