Guyamés is surrounded by lush green hills,
where the last of the Taino Indians lived before they were
wiped out by the Spaniards in the 16th century.
Its houses spill into one another without order or logic
as if huddled together for protection.
The streets are narrow and cleave
to the uneven terrain like ribbons of red mud.
Many are named for the Taino Indians--
Calle Guajira, Calle Urayoan, Calle Guaqimini.
On top of a nearby hill overlooking the town like
a huge white fowl spreading its wings sits a cathedral,
one of the oldest buildings in Guyamés.
The climate is unusually humid and falls
in pellets that melt before they reach the ground.
The frequent rains as well as the tranquil atmosphere
bring out the vivid colors of the landscape,
the limpid blue of the sky, the soft moss green of the hills,
the hard beveled green of the sugar cane fields.
Perhaps for this reason, a romantic imagination and acute
aesthetic sensibility and a deep love of nature are common among
the inhabitants of Guyamés.
Almost every room at Emajaguas has its own skylight.
Skylights were a way of saving money.
One didn't have to turn on a light
except when it began to get dark.
But they also gave the rooms a special atmosphere.
There is a dreamlike quality to a room with a skylight.
It eliminates the passing shadows
of the world outside, the swish of headlights
on the road, the street lights coming on at dusk.
A room with a skylight gives one a sense of security.
Nothing bad can happen there.
There's no reason to be afraid of what the future may bring.
The skylights of Emajaguas were always
located in strategic places, over the dining room table,
for example, or above the bathtub where sunlight fell
directly on the naked body.
At the Sacred Heart in La Concordia,
the nuns taught us that looking at yourself in the mirror
without clothes on was a cardinal sin.
Girls were supposed to be ignorant of their bodies,
the little bushes of hair beginning
to sprout in unexpected nooks, the bulbs pushing out
in flat places, and all kinds of fluids beginning to run.
Modesty was an important part of being a decent person.
Thanks to Emajaguas, I always laughed at all that.
I love to stand in the bathtub under the skylight
without a stitch on.
By the time I turned 12, I knew my body's secret places
by heart, a nest of downy fleas growing
there, a delicate pink halo appearing there.
I grew up liking the way the creamy curve of my breast
melted into my belly and when I bent my elbow how
the hidden part of my underarm resembled
a freshly baked loaf of bread.
At Emajaguas, I could caress and touch myself at will.
Exposed to the light of day, my body
was innocent and had a life of its own.
Shame and sin meant nothing to me.
I was 13 when I discovered the answer
to the age-old enigma of how we arrived in this world.
One morning at recess, one of my girlfriends
came over excitedly to where I was sitting
with a group of other students.
She said she wanted to tell us a secret,
so we rallied around her in the school yard.
I found out where babies really come from,
Maria Concepcion said.
They don't come from Paris on the wings of Jesusito
at all like the nuns say.
And then she proceeded to describe the biological process
of copulation and birth, leaving out none of the details.
A naked man and a woman in bed kissing and caressing,
the man putting his pee pee in the woman's third hole.
Was there a third hole?
I wasn't aware there was one until then.
It's between the asshole and the piss hole,
you nitwit, Maria Concepcion whispered pinching my arm.
And that was the hole the baby came out of nine months later.
I was shocked.
It was Friday, and that afternoon, we
left to Emajaguas where we would spend the weekend.
As soon as we arrived, I went to my mother's room
to ask if Maria Concepcion had said was true.
Mother was taking a shower, and as I knocked on the bathroom
door, she didn't turn off the water but over the shower's din
asked me what I wanted.
I opened the door a crack and poked my head in.
I could see mother's shadow.
She was standing naked behind the shower
curtain, the skylight, a rectangle of light
above her head, and steam was coming out from the top.
Mother, is it true that babies are
born only after a man puts his pee pee inside a woman
and pisses on her and nine months later the baby comes out
a third hole that only women have, I shouted.
And silence followed during which
the shower's din became a roar.
Yes, dear, it's true, mother answered,
and please close the bathroom door
because I'm getting a draft.
[LAUGHTER]
There was not much communication between mothers and daughters
at that time.
Fortunately, the world has changed.