Authors: Ben Mikaelsen
MY MACHETE
makes a loud sound when I cut the fifth notch in the side of the cayuco. The sound wakes Angelina.
“I am hungry,” she says, even before she rubs sleep from her eyes.
“I am, too,” I say, but I know that we have only three tortillas left, and they have green mold. Still, we must eat them. I smile. “This morning we are lucky,” I say. “We can eat tortillas and beans.”
Without being told, Angelina brings the tortillas and beans. I push my machete into the top of the bottle and use the blade to lift beans from the water. I put some in my mouth and chew. The beans are not hard, but I cannot say they are soft. They are like a carrot or coconut. They can be chewed but are hard to swallow. Water helps.
Angelina watches me scrape mold from a tortilla. I fill the tortilla with beans and give it to her. She does not complain, but her face tells me she does not like what she eats. As she chews, she stares out across the ocean. Her eyes blink to hold back tears. I think maybe her little stomach hurts because she is so hungry. She stares the same way a stray dog stares when it eats garbage.
I also chew on a tortilla with beans and say to Angelina, “This will help us to win our game.”
“Staying alive,” Angelina says.
I nod. “When we win, we will be able to eat chicken and hot tamales. There will be fresh tortillas with lime and salt and garlic. We will even have soup made from lamb like when there is a wedding or a child is born in the village.” When Angelina does not answer me, I say, “Angelina, today we will catch a fish.”
Angelina stares across the waves as if she does not hear my words. She looks at me only when she needs more water to help her swallow the dry tortilla and beans.
“I do not like our game,” she says suddenly. When I do not answer her, she asks, “Can I have coconut milk?”
I shake my head. “I think that is what gives you diarrhea.”
As I eat, I look at the ocean and try to think about what I can do to make sailing tomorrow easier. I know I need to make a rudder with the paddle or I will never dare to sleep. Carefully I use the machete to cut a notch behind me in the back of the cayuco. I make the notch
only big enough to hold the handle of the paddle. Now I can put the paddle in the notch and steer the boat without always lifting and pushing.
Already the sun climbs higher and brings more heat. Today the waves are like small rolling hills that follow the cayuco from behind. The wind lets me swing the sail wide. I put the paddle in the notch and lean against the handle to keep the cayuco straight.
I know I must find rest today, but I must also be able to wake up. “Angelina,” I say. “I need sleep. I will sit in the seat, but today you must sit between my legs and be my eyes. Wake me up if you see other boats or big waves or if we start to turn. Okay?”
Angelina takes another drink of water and nods. She pulls on her hat then stands and pushes mine over my head. Quietly she sits on the floor between my feet.
I am very proud of Angelina. She is only four, but already she knows what she must do. I think maybe she knows that this is not really a game. I think there are many things Angelina knows but will not speak of.
Before I let myself sleep, I pull out the fishing line from the plastic pail under the deck. The line is wrapped around a small chunk of wood. There is only one hook on the line. I rip off a piece of dried fish and push it over the hook. I am not a fisherman, so I do not know what fish want to eat.
Carefully, I drop the hook into the water and unwrap the line until the hook pulls under the water about ten
meters behind the cayuco. I am too tired to hold the line, so I tie it around my waist. “Angelina,” I say, “if a fish moves or pulls the line, wake me up.”
Angelina nods.
With the paddle wedged in the notch, the cayuco sails straight. I look around me once more before I close my eyes and fall asleep. Soon the sleep of the dead captures me. I sleep until I relax and fall to the side. This jerks me awake from my heavy sleep.
I look down and find Angelina asleep also, her head resting on my legs. The cayuco still sails well, so I do not wake her. Little sisters do not make very good sailors or fishermen. I turn and find that the fishing line still pulls straight behind us. Again I fall asleep.
I am sleeping hard when a little hand wakes me. It is Angelina jerking on my ear. “Fish,” she says. “Look at all the fish.”
I wake up fast because I think we have caught something.
Again Angelina says, “Look, fish!”
What Angelina sees is many dolphins swimming around the cayuco. Their backs roll above the water, and they look like they are playing. Sometimes they jump high out of the water. One comes up very close beside the cayuco. Angelina reaches out and tries to touch it.
“Why are the fish here?” Angelina asks.
“These are dolphins,” I say. “They are not fish. Uncle Ramos has told me they breathe air and play like dogs.”
“Why do they jump beside the cayuco?” she asks.
“Because they know we are on a very long trip and they feel sorry for us. They know we feel lonely and they want us to laugh. See how they smile?”
Angelina nods. When she turns to look at me, she is smiling. “The dolphins make me smile,” she says.
As the dolphins play, I smell a bad smell. I do not have time to think about it because suddenly I feel a heavy pain in my stomach. It is like I have swallowed a coconut without breaking the shell. I need to go to the bathroom almost faster than I can pull my pants down. “Angelina,” I say, “look at those dolphins.” I point to the front of the cayuco.
When she looks forward, I pull my pants down. The cayuco has a flat back where I have made the notch for the paddle. I lean my bottom over the back. It is like a firecracker exploding inside of me, and Angelina turns to see what the noise is.
“Look at the dolphins,” I say with an angry voice.
Angelina looks again to the front, but I hear her little voice giggle.
“What is so funny?” I ask.
“When you went to the bathroom, you made the same sound I made.”
“Did you go to the bathroom when I was sleeping?” I ask.
She nods.
I am finished, so I reach under the seat and use the
dirty sleeve from the shirt to clean myself. “Did you go into the water?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I tried but I almost fell into the ocean. I went there.” Angelina points under the deck at the bottom of the cayuco.
Now I know what the bad smell is. I am very angry. The bottom of the cayuco is not dry. Because there is water under the coconuts, now all the coconuts are dirty and will have to be washed before we can eat them. I want to be mad at Angelina because I am very tired, but I ask her in a patient voice, “Why did you not wake me to help you?”
“I kicked you, but you did not wake up.”
“Did you clean yourself?” I ask.
She nods.
“How? The sleeve was behind me.”
Angelina will not look at me.
“How?” I ask, my voice louder.
Angelina points her finger at the leg of my pant.
I look down. My pant leg is smeared with brown. I shake my head and hold my breath to keep back my anger, then I smile a tired smile. “I need more sleep,” I say. But first I swing my leg into the ocean and wash the leg of my pants. “Next time, use your dress.”
Angelina shakes her head. “I do not want a dirty dress,” she says.
I point at the coconuts that are the most dirty. “Hand me those and I will wash them.”
Angelina shakes her head.
“If you do not hand them to me, I will clean them with your dress,” I say. “The same way that you have used my pants.”
Angelina crawls forward quickly and picks up the dirtiest coconut. She pinches her nose with one hand, and gives me the coconut with a stiff arm.
When I finish cleaning the coconuts, I take the bottle with the beans and tie it near the mast on top of the hot deck. Maybe sitting in the hot sun all day will make the beans better for our stomachs.
“If you have to go to the bathroom, you must wake me up,” I say.
“I think I will hit you on the head with a coconut,” she says.
I do not laugh because I know she will.
I look down now and find only a short piece of fishing line waving from my waist. The line is broken where it has rubbed over the back of the cayuco.
I am angry at myself. I know I have done something very stupid today. I had only one hook, and now it is gone. Did I think the cayuco would fish for me because I was tired? Big tears come to my eyes to tell me that I am stupid, very stupid. Maybe this one mistake will kill us.
Carefully I wrap up the broken fishing line. I blink my eyes to hold back the tears as my tired thoughts float above the waves with the wind. This is how I sail the rest of the day. I try to sleep, but thoughts keep me in a world
that is someplace between awake and asleep. As long as I can see the faraway shore, I do not worry.
In this part of the ocean, there are only a few islands, but I know I sail close to a reef because once, during the afternoon, I look down into the clear water and see the bottom. Also the current has slowed.
As night comes to the sky, I sail near the floating balls from a fisherman's net. I do not think anyone can see me from shore, so I lower the sail and paddle beside one of the balls. What I do is very wrong, but maybe it is okay because I am only a young boy who has lost his only hook and is trying to feed his little sister.
The net is heavy, but I pull it up until I find a silver fish tangled by its head. The fish is still alive, so I hold it with my hand and chop the head off with my machete. The net drops back into the water with a loud splash. Quickly I raise the sail and keep sailing. I do not want someone to catch me.
As I sail, I cut the fish apart. Angelina does not wait. She reaches out and grabs a piece of meat before it is cut away from the fish.
“Wait,” I say, smiling. I know her little stomach is very hungry. Five days ago, she would not eat a fresh tortilla wet with salt water. Now I must tell her to wait before she can eat a raw fish covered with blood.
I REMEMBER WELL
the night when Angelina and I sailed from Guatemala with the moon small and the night dark with rain. Tonight the sky is filled with stars and the moon is bigger. The waves roll north and east to my right. If I am going to sleep during this night, I must sail with the waves. They will take me away from shore, but I know that tomorrow I will find the shore again. Land does not move.
I am not so afraid of being away from the shore now because I am learning more about the ocean. The winds and the waves east of the Yucatán are more kind to me than the waters near Belize. But I know this is something that can change, so I will not be foolish.
My hands and my backside are sore. Because the wooden seat is always wet with salt water, my skin is raw from sitting. Sometimes I kneel so I do not have to sit,
but then my knees become red and sore. I even stand sometimes, but that is dangerous.
I worry about Angelina because her skin, too, is becoming very burned and cracked. Her skin is not thick and hard like mine, and she does not understand why it hurts. Sometimes big silent tears wet her cheeks because her backside is so sore from diarrhea. I do not know if she is sick or if the food or coconuts make her this way. When rain comes, I will wash her again.
Angelina is brave and does not cry very much now. She sits quietly under the deck. Sometimes she scratches at her dry skin. Sometimes she picks at her nose. I give her coconut and sugar cane to chew. This helps her to forget the hunger she feels.
Yes, Angelina is a brave girl, but I think her silence also tells me that something is wrong. She does not talk about Mother or Father, or about our brothers and sister. I know that she carries memories of them and of home and of the night the sky turned red. I reach out and give her a big hug the way Mother once hugged her. She pushes me away. She is a very sad girl.
I know that this trip is killing Angelina a little each day. That is why I must sail through the coming night. Also tonight I must sleep when I am sailing. This is dangerous, but if I do not sleep, maybe tomorrow I will fall asleep when the winds and the waves are even stronger.
And so I sail into another night. I sleep, but always I think a part of my mind stays awake. In the middle of
the night the waves grow bigger and the wind grabs at the cayuco. I decide to sleep a little more. I will let the ocean keep pushing me north. Each minute I sail, I am a little closer to the United States of America. Soon I will lower the sail, I tell myself.
That is my last thought before I wake up falling sideways into the water. There is a big splash as the mast hits the water and a giant wave rolls over the cayuco from the side. Angelina screams and I know I must find her.
“Angelina!” I yell. “Angelina!”
I think she is still inside the cayuco, so I swim beside the boat and reach my arm under the deck. My fingers find her small arm, and I pull her to air. She coughs and spits, then screams like she is dying. I hold the cayuco with one hand, and with the other, I hold Angelina.
In the dark, the waves lift and drop us, and the wind is so strong, it makes me close my eyes. But we are okay. Something bumps my shoulder. I turn and find the paddle floating beside my head.
“Hold the cayuco,” I shout to Angelina, pushing her near the seat. I grab the paddle.
With her little hands, Angelina holds on to the cayuco. I move fast. What I do now will save us or let us die. “Hold tight!” I shout again at Angelina as I push the paddle under the deck where it will not float away. Then I reach for the seat and pull loose the sail rope. I crawl up on the side of the cayuco. Somehow I must lift the mast from the water.
First I lean far over the side, but my weight is not enough. The sideboard is out of the water, so I crawl out on the sideboard as far as I can. This lifts the mast some from the water, but the wet sail is still too heavy.
Angelina screams louder.
“Hold on!” I keep shouting. I know I do not have very much time. I must lift the mast from the water.
As fast as I can move in the darkness, I crawl to the bottom of the mast. I pull the sail to the deck and tie it around the two sail poles. Next I grab the sail rope I have let loose. I pull it free of the mast and crawl back onto the sideboard. Now I can stand up and pull on the rope that comes from the top of the mast.
Angelina still screams and the wind gusts.
I lean back and pull with all my strength. For a moment, I do not think I can move the cayuco, but then the mast lifts slowly from the water. As it comes up, I crawl off the sideboard into the cayuco.
When the cayuco tips upright, it rolls fast, and I must jump into the water so that I am not hit by the sail pole that swings across the deck. The boat is filled with water, but it sits upright with Angelina floating inside, still holding tight to the side and screaming.
Another wave hits and almost tips us over again. I need to turn the front into the waves. I pull myself aboard and reach under the deck to find the paddle. My hand finds nothing. Another wave hits, and I lean almost into the water to keep the mast up. Again I reach
under the deck. If I have lost the paddle, I cannot sail the cayuco. Still I feel nothing. I almost give up when my fingers touch the end of the handle. I hold my breath and go underwater and grab it.
With Angelina in front of me so she cannot fall out, I paddle until the front of the boat faces the next wave. Even filled with water, the sides of the cayuco are above water. The plastic bowl that we used to empty water is gone, so I scoop water out with my hands. “Help me,” I tell Angelina. “This is part of our game.” I do not think she can help very much, but it will make her less scared.
Angelina watches me, and then she splashes water from the cayuco with her hands.
I paddle to keep us straight, and then I scoop water with my hands. I paddle, then scoop water, paddle and scoop. For the next hour that is all I do. In the light of the moon, I see Angelina's face. Fear makes her eyes shine.
Maybe it is because I am so scared, or maybe it is because I am crazy, but I start to laugh. The wind tries to quiet my voice, but I shout, “Angelina, this is our game, and we will win!”
Angelina watches me. She does not know what to think. I keep laughing and paddling and scooping. When I look at Angelina again, her face has found a smile and she splashes at the water with her hands. “Win,” she says. Her weak voice still shakes with fear. “We will win.”
“Yes!” I shout. I tighten my hands into fists and I wave them at the sky. “We will not die!” I scream. “We will live and tell the world what has happened to our village!” Yelling like this keeps tears from my eyes.
I do not know what time it is. I think maybe when things like this happen, time goes away. All that is left is this moment and the next.
When much of the water is emptied from the cayuco, I make a cup with my hand and pull water up the side. Finally the sun comes up. Both of my hands bleed, but I raise the sail again. I know that tomorrow or maybe the next day, I will leave land and sail across the Gulf of Mexico. When that time comes, I must be more ready than last night or we will die.
I make up my mind. This thing that has happened, it is not bad. During the night, the cayuco did not break. Angelina is still alive and I still have a paddle. Now I know that I must make something for Angelina so she cannot drown. I will tie everything to the cayuco so I cannot lose it, and I will be ready for winds and waves that are even stronger than these.
I see the machete in the bottom of the cayuco. This is something else I cannot lose. I pick up the machete and make another big notch in the side of the cayuco. Now there are six notches.
“Look, Angelina,” I say. I pick her up and set her on my lap. “Look at all these notches. Help me to count them.” I put my finger out and touch each notch with
my finger. “Oneâ¦twoâ¦threeâ¦fourâ¦fiveâ¦and six.” I hug Angelina. “When there are twenty notches, I think then we will win our game and be in the United States of America.”
Angelina looks up at me. She asks me, “If not, where will we be?”
I take a deep breath. “I do not know,” I say.