Taino by Jose Barreiro Read Free Book Online Page A

other headmen all laughed, out of habit, at the cacique ’s joke. As I translated, the admiral smiled, but very lightly. He liked it that our Taíno had their longtime enemies and made much of it to the king and queen. I myself always thought Bayamo and other caciques who said such to the admiral exaggerated their old enemies’ cruelties. However, it appeared Bayamo had someone else’s cruelty in mind.
    â€œThe giant seagulls that carry you across the ocean, your garments and sand-skin, these things I have heard of,” Bayamo continued. “Our brother-cousins from Cacique Baracoa’s villages, over the mountains on our northern coast, they told us about you. Many things were told when we met them at our common areito , the dance for Yucahuguama Bagua Maórocoti. They even said you came from the skyworld and could fly away. They also said that when you left, you took ten of their people, those you put in a cave hole in your floating house.”
    Columbus stood up with a bound as I translated the words. Again, he interrupted.
    â€œAll people are lost without the knowledge of Christ. Those taken are better because of it.”
    â€œHe is agitated,” I said in Taíno, trying to bridge the minds and minimize the impact of his eruption. “He is a great captain but he is not well.”
    The admiral spoke hurriedly. “The light of the Lord has now come to your lands, headman. Innocence cannot save you from eternal torture. The word of God is in your ear now and only the Holy Doctrine will capacitate your people to enter the Kingdom of Heaven…”
    Bayamo began to talk for himself. I stopped listening to Columbus, who predicated for another full minute, and listened to Bayamo.
    â€œI have a question of yourself, great lord—are you caniba that your giant seagulls eat Taíno people?” Bayamo asked. “Are you a cousin of thigh-eaters who kidnap our people? I ask the question: Are you good or are you bad? Because if you are bad to my people, you will go to that hell you have mentioned. If you believe every man answers for his deeds into death, then you will not harm those who do not harm you, or you will certainly go to that fire place of hell.”
    Having said that, the cacique sat down and the admiral stopped in midsentence. The silence left behind by the sound of Bayamo’s voice seemed to dumbfound him.
    I translated the cacique ’s words then and did not tone down the directness, seeking to maximize the impact. But the admiral had regained his composure. He was not Admiral of the Ocean Sea, Christ-bearer, and grand navigator to be without the capability for an answer.
    â€œTell him again,” the admiral said, looking to his own captains and twirling his finger to signify a closure to the parley, “that the people taken are meant to serve us and in return are instructed in the true faith of our Catholic kings.”
    I translated this as gently as I could. However, the precision for terms of bartering in our language made obvious the faults of the admiral’s proposition.
    The old men of Bayamo understood and did not like the admiral’s reasoning. “What if we don’t want to be taught?” one asked. “Why that place of burning?” another one asked. “Why is that necessary?”
    An old man who was gnarled and had not aged gracefully, like Bayamo, stepped into the circle in front of the cacique . He looked to a line of elder women, mostly sisters and aunts in Bayamo’s line, standing together behind the seated line of men. The women all had a rearing-back look, fixing wary eyes on the admiral. The old-timer raised his palm and pointed toward the women with his open hand. “Be careful,” he said. “When you counsel your cacique , be careful of the hair-faces.”
    I translated bluntly again, and the admiral smiled bitterly. “He should fear us more,” he said plainly to no one. It was not meant