Read Online Erased Faces by Graciela Limón - Free Book Online Page B

that army of men and women, she noticed, appeared to be in their twenties and thirties. Adriana could not understand what they were saying in their language. She did realize, however, that no one spoke Juana’s name. Instead, she heard the word “capitán” as it was repeated over and again in Spanish.
    When they reached the stairs leading up to the house, the throng dispersed and Juana gestured to Adriana to put down her gear.
    â€œHere I am known as Capitán Insurgente Isabel.”
    â€œYou’re an officer?”
    â€œYes. We’re an army.”
    Adriana, not knowing what to say, kept silent. She inwardly reproached herself for being naïve, for not having prepared herself for what she was encountering.
    â€œWhy are you surprised? All armies have officers.”
    â€œBut you’re a woman.”
    â€œWe’re all equal in this army.”
    â€œYou even have a different name.”
    â€œWe give up our original names as we give up the old ways.”
    Embarrassed, but not knowing exactly why, Adriana was at a loss as to what to say; she only nodded. Again, she admired Juana’s way, the manner in which she transformed what could be complicated into something simple and natural.
    When they reached the top of the stairs, Adriana looked through the entrance and caught glimpses of men and women in discussion. As she and Juana entered, everyone turned in their direction, momentarily surprised, but then obviously relieved to see them. Adriana sensed that they had been worried about their well-being. Along with this impression, she felt a heavy mood in the room; tension seemed to hang in the air like a pall.
    Her eyes scanned those faces, moving from one to the other—seeing that some of the men were mestizos, and that they, as well as the women, were all armed. These men and women were the leaders—of this she was certain—and as she had done minutes before, she concentrated on expressions, observing the jutting jaw of the man turningtoward her, the prominent forehead of the woman looking intently at her, the nose of the woman standing next to her. Later on, when these same people would put on masks to erase their faces, Adriana would be able to recognize each one by the characteristics she first observed as she met them.
    Again, Juana moved away from Adriana to approach one of the men. With him she engaged in a long, whispered conversation that betrayed surprise, then what Adriana interpreted as exasperation. As they spoke, the others kept silent, apparently knowing what Juana was hearing. When they were finished, she nodded to the man and returned to the group. Juana spoke in a low voice, her eyes shrouded as if she were thinking of something else. “
Compañeros
, this is Adriana Mora. She has agreed to become part of our cause and to chronicle the enterprise on film. From here, the images she records will go out to the world.”
    Juana’s voice was steady and clear as she spoke in Spanish. Adriana was moved by Juana’s words because she had never been made to feel so welcome. The apprehensions she had experienced melted away, leaving her certain that what she was about to do was important and necessary.
    Juana took Adriana to each of the officers, women and men, indigenous and mestizo. Even though they did not speak to her, she saw that they accepted her. Most of them shook her hand, others patted her on the shoulder.
    â€œThis is El Subcomandante, our spokesman.”
    â€œThis is Major Ana María.”
    â€œThis is Comandante Ramona.”
    Juana paused when they neared a man who wore the long cotton tunic of the Lacandones over which he had strapped a cartridge belt and revolver at his waist. Adriana looked down at his feet, taking in the worn
huaraches
that did not cover heavily callused heels and toes. She noticed also that his feet were oversized, too big, for his mediumsized body, and that one toe was missing from each foot.
    â€œThis