“Yemayá,” she said.
It was the water from the fountain in her house, and it tasted cool and refreshing.
After we drank the water, Manuela and Ma Felipa stood before us, rocking back and forth and singing in a language I’d never heard before.
Yemayá Asesu
Asesu Yemayá
Yemayá Olodo
Olodo Yemayá . . .
They repeated the words so many times, I still remember them. The tune was so beautiful I can’t get it out of my head. I have been singing the song to myself ever since.
When we got up to leave, they helped us lift our satchels back onto our shoulders. Mario José arrived with a basket of fruit, and after Manuela and Ma Felipa told him what happened, he insisted on giving us another pineapple.
Cubans have been so friendly to me that I almost forgot about how some people hate Jews. I am worried that if the hatred toward Jews has reached all the way across the ocean to Cuba, things must be getting much worse in Poland. I hope that you and the family are safe, Malka. If only I could speak to you for even a minute! But the distance between us is as wide as the sea. Now I am even more determined to work hard to bring you all here.
With all my love,
ESTHER
AGRAMONTE
February 25, 1938
Dear Malka,
Yesterday morning, we stepped out of the house with our satchels on our shoulders, ready to try to sell the last of our statues, but we didn’t get very far. There he was—the man on the horse! Papa clasped my hand and said we should go back inside. But it was too late. The man saw us and glared at us but fortunately left us alone. He tied his horse to a post and knocked on the door of Doctor Pablo and Señora Graciela. We watched as he went inside. We thought we’d scramble down the street before he came out, but a moment later, we were face-to-face with him. Papa and I, both short and small, trembled at the sight of him. With his long legs and big boots, he was a giant.
But Señora Graciela came to his side, and in her friendly way, she said to us, “Señor Abraham and Esther! Let me introduce you to my brother.”
So that man with the horse was her brother! How could such a kind woman be related to such a cruel man? “This is Señor Eduardo,” she went on, telling him we were “polacos” who had just moved into town.
He sneered and said, “They’re not polacos, they’re judíos.” To him, we are nothing but Jews.
He raised one of his long legs into the air to climb onto his horse, and galloped away, stirring up a cloud of dust that got caught in our throats. Señora Graciela blew away the dust from her face with a fan she expertly snapped open, then insisted we come to her house.
Doctor Pablo greeted us warmly, patting Papa on the back and hugging me, and urged us to sit in the living room with him and Señora Graciela under the portrait of Emilia.
Señora Graciela told Doctor Pablo about our encounter with her brother. The doctor shook his head and looked at us with sad eyes. “Lo siento, lo siento,” he said, which Papa told me meant he was sorry. Doctor Pablo said many other things I didn’t understand, but I caught several words. Papa explained everything to me later while we rested in our rocking chairs before going to sleep.
Papa said there is a terrible war going on in Spain, and Doctor Pablo and Señor Eduardo are on opposite sides. Both their grandfathers came from Spain to Cuba. Doctor Pablo is a Republicano who believes all religions should be respected and Cuba should be a place where immigrants can work and progress. Señor Eduardo does not agree. He is a Falangista who wants everyone in Cuba to be of the Catholic faith, like in Spain.
Señor Eduardo is the owner of a sugar mill near Agramonte that has been in his and Señora Graciela’s family for many generations. Almost all the black people in Agramonte work in their sugar mill. Many white people who’ve arrived penniless from Spain in the last few years also work there.
“I’ve been told there are still a few elders left here who were once enslaved,” Papa said. “They were brought to Cuba from Africa to work cutting cane and making sugar in the mills.”
“They must have suffered so much,” I said.
Papa nodded. “Yes, they did. The slave owners were very cruel to the African people here. They kept them in chains so they wouldn’t run away.”
I was shocked. I thought slavery had ended long ago. “How can anybody own somebody?” I asked.
Papa replied, “The slave masters owned their bodies. But they found out they couldn’t own their souls.”
It was late, and the sound of crickets chirping and palm trees rustling in the breeze filled the room.
Papa said, “Now let’s get some rest.”
I had more questions, but Papa was falling asleep in his chair.
“Papa, do you think Ma Felipa was enslaved once?”
He stood up slowly. “I don’t know. Maybe one day she will tell us her story.”
I went to sleep humming Ma Felipa’s song about the saint of the sea—Yemayá Asesu, Asesu Yemayá—and wondering if it came from Africa.
With all the love a sister can give,
ESTHER
AGRAMONTE
March 1, 1938
Dear Malka,
I think Señora Graciela invited us to dinner again so soon because she felt bad about the way her brother, Señor Eduardo, treated us. Tonight we had another delicious vegetarian meal. This time we began with “frituras de maíz,” corn cakes that were really good; you would’ve loved them! Then she brought out a huge platter of “arroz frito,” which is fried rice. It had peas and carrots and little squares of scrambled eggs. What made it so tasty was the “salsa china,” a Chinese sauce she told us she gets from the store owned by Juan Chang.
“He sells things from all over the world!” Señora Graciela exclaimed.
I smiled, thinking of how kind he’d been to me.
Papa asked if Juan Chang had been in Agramonte a long time, and she said he arrived ten years ago. He was Cantonese and came by himself to Cuba. He married a black woman and it was a happy marriage, but she and their baby died in childbirth. Such a sad story, Señora Graciela said. His store was all he lived for. But he was lonely. He sent for his nephew, Francisco Chang, who came from China to live and work with him.
Dinner ended and Señora Graciela turned to Papa and said she wanted to buy all the religious statues we still had left for sale.