Ponta de Areia

A lesson in the afternoon, Giovanni and his class of international students wonder what makes up the Celestial River.

Ponta de Areia

 (“Brazilian Rhyme”- Earth, Wind, and Fire) Surrounded by water are we, the rivers and Atlantic Ocean are my neighbors. Natural roads of white sand lightly shaded by the palm trees, they stretch for miles with little traffic on them. There are more footprints than tire tracks, more drinks being supplied to fuel the masses than gas to fuel the cars and more foreigners than locals living here these days.

            Many of the families that live here ran away from their homelands to find refuge here. Walking down the street, I pass house after house of single mothers, single fathers-widows who have lost their loved one to rebellions or as I see it-change. Here, the sun never shies away, the water stays warm and calm, and the breeze ever so gently caresses the face reminds me of the home I used to know. Change is only beginning and the native residents are feeling it. I guess it’s only natural for humans to feel uncomfortable with the forced integration of so many cultures.

            In the State of Bahia, physically we are the land that links Caravelas to Nova Vicosa from our harbor on one side of a river, politically we are the town of runaways, socially we are a band of misfits, mentally we are a land of blended cultures, economically we are poor, and spiritually we are lost.

            They say there used to be a train that ran from Aracuai with its last stop being Ponta de Areia, but the railroad tracks were ordered to be pulled up decades ago after a war or the militia took control or something. Small houses with small yards, churches for the Catholics and none for others, one school for each academic milestone; a poor land in paradise is now the place I call home.

 

            In a small shack in a secluded area near the ocean, a boy rub’s his eyes and yawns. He hears footstep approaching his room and snuggles under his blanket to shield himself from the imminent sunlight.

“Wake up, Giovanni, it’s time to go to school.” His mother says as she opens the blinds and window in his room so the morning can greet him.

“Just a few more minutes; I was having a good dream.”

“A dream is a dream and you need to wake up now.”

“I hate going to school. Those kids are cruel.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on school. You know education is highly-valued in this family.”

“I’m not moving until dad returns. Is dad home, yet? When will he join us here? It’s been six months since we left Italy and I haven’t heard from him.”

*Cough, cough, cough. His mother covers her mouth and rubs her chest.

“Mom, your cough is getting worse and you look weaker. You need to rest- I can take care of you today since sis is at work.”

 “Your father will join us soon and your sister is doing all she can to support us. I’m the one sick, not you-so you need to go to school.” He slowly gets out of bed while his mother goes to the kitchen. (End)

(“Ponta de Aeria”- Esperanza Spalding)  “That would make me feel a whole lot better knowing my illness isn’t hindering your studies” She opens the fridge too see there is no milk for his cereal. “Giovanni, I do need more medicine and milk though.” In the midst of brushing his teeth, he answers,

“I’ll stop by the market and doctor’s office on the way home, okay?”

            His mother tries to reply, but she is having another coughing fit. Giovanni quickly takes a shower, packs his lunch and school supplies.

“Hey Giovanni, rumor has it that your friend’s family moved here a week ago. A little late in the school year, but he may be attending your school now.”

“Really?! I need to get to school then.” He shoves some toast with jelly in his mouth and drinks some water to help it go down quicker.

“He and his father may stop by tonight, so you can always see him then.”

“I can’t wait that long! He’s my best friend.”

 “Stay focused, Giovanni!” She tells him as he leaves through the front door.

 

             In class, Giovanni’s gaze goes from the sky to the doodle of a constellation drawn on the worksheet in front of him. He plays connect the dots but with stars, trying to make his own constellation. A Jewish boy adjusts his posture to see what he is drawing as Giovanni moves his paper feeling the boy’s sight. The other students except for one gladly distract each other or themselves from the history lesson the teacher is giving; a British girl texts the French girl with gossip, a Filipino boy snack on fresh treats he baked that morning, a Japanese boy is lost in his own thoughts, an Iraqi boy sits uncomfortably in his seat being so close to an Indian girl who ignores his existence by braiding her hair while he fiddles with something in his bag with his foot, and a German boy blatantly go to sleep without regard of his surroundings. The Chinese girl is the only one vigorously taking notes with a gleam in her eyes. Although Giovanni is doodling, he’s attention is on the lesson being truly fascinated with Outer Space. A book titled, Night on the Galactic Railroad pokes out his backpack, his bookmark being an illustration of the Milky Way galaxy.

            To grab their attention the teacher reads them a Native American quote, “When the blood in your veins returns to the sea and the earth in your bones returns to the ground, perhaps then you will remember that this land does not belong to you, it is you who belongs to this land”. As she read she wrote the quote on the board. “Does anyone know what this means? How does this relate to our lesson?”

            By pure instinct, all the students look at the Native American girl for an explanation. Annoyed, she offers a reply,

“We are born from the earth; the earth is not born from us. Our existence means little in the grand scheme of the universe.”

“Thank you for letting me know you’re paying attention.” The girl glares at her giggling classmates with bright red cheeks. Her friend, an African girl throws paper balls at them.

“All of you are part of families that have left their homelands in search for a place where they can live their lives without constant ridicule and being called ‘radicals’. All of your homelands are built from war and human’s obsession with possession, dominance, order and chaos.  This place too. The forces that govern the universe are what humans belong to. The Earth is just a small part of our solar system and an even smaller part of our galaxy and an incredibly small place in our universe. Does anyone know why our galaxy is called the Milky Way? Some say its overall hazy-white appearance reminds them of milk. Some say it looks as if it would feel like a Milky Way candy bar; a combination of solid and liquid that seems to work. I have even heard our galaxy being called the Celestial River.” She looks at Giovanni and then at the book in his bag. “Why would it be called a river? What makes up this Celestial River?” She gives him a look as if she was saying, “You seem to know, Giovanni.”

            Giovanni taps his book into his bag with his foot and continues his doodle avoiding eye contact and any other indication that would reveal he is paying attention. He shakes his head, “No” to let her know he is not going to respond. The Jewish boy rubs the six point star stitched into his shirt.

“Let us look at some pictures of our galaxy.” She opens files on her computer connected to a smart board. She zooms in and out of each one as she continues lecturing. “Do the stars remind us of grains of sand, is it because the deepest spots of water are the darkest and the spots of the sky with the most stars the lightest-both being hard to see through? Is it because they are reflections of each other; reflections made possible by the transmittance of light? Do we associate water with concepts such as life and death, purification and purity?” She asks them the question again before break, “What makes up the Celestial River?”

            None try to answer as they gather their things for lunchtime. The kids rush out the class with only Giovanni and the Iraqi boy taking their time to leave. Giovanni grabs his book and thinks about inviting him to lunch, but Giovanni decides against it seeing him oddly staring off into the distance. Giovanni makes his way down the hall; his breakfast isn’t sitting well and in his rush towards the bathroom he accidently bumps into the French girl who seems to be in a hurry of her own. Inside the bathroom are three people he didn’t want to see. He turns around hoping they wouldn’t notice him, but he felt a tug on his collar that stopped him in his tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going, bichos (vermin)?” The Spanish boy puts him in a chokehold. His cross necklace presses against Giovanni’s cheek.

“You can’t hide from us; the school is not that big!” The Brazilian boy punches Giovanni in the gut. By reflex he swings his legs at the boy. The last boy uses his belt to tie his legs together.

“You’ll never learn, will ya? It’s three against one. A you are scrawny compared to us, especially Zanelli.” The Dominican boy states before punching him in the face sending him flying towards the ground as the other boy releases his grip around his neck. Giovanni doesn’t attempt to raise himself from the ground. He stares at his blood covering the white seal between the tiles.

“I guess you’re not like your father after all. You’re smart to accept the punishment you deserve.” Zanelli says as he kicks Giovanni onto his back. Giovanni catches his breath to say,

“My mother’s…condition is… enough punishment.” He sits up on one hip and wipes the blood away from his mouth.

“She won’t survive long without your father” The Dominican boy believes.

 “She should join your father in prison, she’s just as much at fault as he and you are.” The Spanish boy feels.

“My prayers will never be with anyone from your family, you don’t want them anyways.” Zanelli fiddles with his rosary as he makes the sign of the cross. 

“Shut up, you don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Tears are welling up in Giovanni’s eyes. Simultaneously they all reply,

“We know a traitor when we see one!” and they take turns punching and kicking Giovanni all over his body. Gradually his vision becomes blurry, the voices become mute, his body becomes numb, and eventually everything goes black.

            In the dark he wanders in search for the light. Running, it’s an uphill battle. Clink. Suddenly, he trips and his knees hit something metallic. A light approaches along with the sound of a blaring whistle. Giovanni finds himself on railroad tracks with the Bahia Minas approaching.

            Giovanni quickly moves off the train tracks and brushes the dirt off his shirt. He squints as the light shine into his eyes, turning his surroundings from black to white. As the train passes, a trail of stars is left behind to lighten the night sky from monochrome to Technicolor. In the center of the sky sits an object resembling an eye of a cat; a blue pupil, blue-red iris with a green outline. On both sides of the railroad track is an endless ocean that stretches for miles; gently reflecting the colors of the stars on its surface, they match the grains of sand along the bottom making a sea of stars. Rocks fit together perfectly to make a platform for the tracks that are underwater. As the train passes, Giovanni is swept off his feet into deeper water. (End)