The Sorcerers' Crossing: Chapter 02.

The Sorcerers' Crossing - A Woman's Journey ©1992 by Taisha Abelar.

Chapter 2.

After more than three hours of continuous driving, Clara and I stopped for lunch in the city of Guaymas.

As we waited for our food to arrive, I glanced out the window at the narrow street flanking the bay.

A group of shirtless boys were kicking a ball. Elsewhere, some workers were laying bricks at a construction site while others were taking their noon break; leaning against piles of unopened sacks of cement, and sipping sodas from bottles.

I could not help but think that in Mexico, everything seemed extra loud and dusty.

Clara regained my attention, saying, "In this restaurant, they serve the most delicious turtle soup."

Just then a smiling waitress with a silver front tooth placed two bowls of soup on the table.

Clara politely exchanged a few words with her in Spanish before the waitress hurried off to serve other customers.

I picked up a spoon and was examining it to see if it was clean as I said, "I have never had turtle soup before."

"You are in for a real treat," Clara said, watching me wipe my spoon with a paper napkin.

Reluctantly, I tasted a spoonful. However, the bits of white meat floating in a creamy tomato base were indeed delicious.

I took several more spoonfuls of soup, and then I asked Clara, "Where do they get the turtles?"

She pointed out the window, and said, "Right from the bay."

A handsome, middle-aged man sitting at the table next to ours turned to me and winked.

His gesture, I thought, was more an attempt at being humorous than a sexual innuendo.

He leaned toward me as if we had been addressing him, and with accented English he said, "The turtle you are eating now was a big one."

Clara looked at me, and raised an eyebrow as if she could not believe the audacity of the stranger.

The man continued, saying, "This turtle was big enough to feed a dozen hungry people. They catch the turtles in the sea. It takes several men to haul one in."

I remarked, "I suppose they harpoon them like whales."

The man deftly moved his chair to our table, and said, "No, I believe they use large nets. Then they club them to render them unconscious before slitting open their bellies. That way, the meat does not get too tough."

My appetite flew out the window. The last thing I wanted was for an insensitive assertive stranger to join us at our table, yet I did not know how to handle the situation.

The man continued with a disarming smile, saying, "Since we are on the subject of food, Guaymas is famous for its jumbo shrimp. Let me order some for the two of you."

Cuttingly, Clara said, "I have already done that."

Just then our waitress returned bringing a plate of the largest shrimp I had ever seen. It was enough for a banquet and was certainly much more than Clara and I could possibly eat; no matter how hungry we were.

Our unwanted companion looked at me waiting to be invited to join our meal.

If I had been alone, he would have succeeded in attaching himself to me against my will.

But Clara had other plans, and she reacted in a decisive manner.

She jumped up with feline agility, loomed over the man, and looked straight down into his eyes.

Clare yelled in Spanish, "Buzz off, you creep! How dare you sit at our table. My niece is no frigging whore!"

Her stance was so powerful and her tone of voice was so shocking that everything in the room came to a halt.

All eyes were focused on our table.

The man cowered so pitifully that I felt sorry for him. He just slid out of the chair, and half crawled out of the restaurant.

Clara sat down again, and said to me, "I know that you are trained to let men get the best of you; just because they are men.

"You have always been nice to men, and they have milked you for everything you had. Do you not know that men feed off women's energy!"

I felt that every eye in the room was on me, and so, I was too embarrassed to argue with her.

Clara continued, saying, "You let them push you around because you feel sorry for them.

"In your heart of hearts you are desperate to take care of a man; any man.

"If that idiot had been a woman, you yourself would never have let her sit at our table."

My appetite was spoiled beyond repair. I became moody and pensive.

Clara said with a smirk, "I see I have hit a sore spot."

Reproachfully, I said, "You made a scene. You were rude."

Clare replied, "Definitely," and she laughed. "But I also scared him half to death."

Her face was so open and she seemed to be so happy that I finally had to laugh; remembering how shocked the man had been.

I grumbled, "I am just like my mother. She succeeded in making me a mouse when it comes to men."

The moment I voiced that thought, my depression vanished and I felt hungry again. I polished off almost the whole plate of shrimp.

Clara declared, "There is no feeling comparable to starting a new turn with a full stomach."

Because of all the excitement, it had not occurred to me to ask Clara about her house. Maybe it was a shack like the ones I had seen earlier while driving through the Mexican towns.

A pang of fear made the shrimp sit heavy in my stomach.

What kind of food would I be eating? Perhaps this was going to be my last good meal.

Would I be able to drink the water? I envisioned myself coming down with acute intestinal problems.

I did not know how to ask Clara about my accommodations without sounding insulting or ungrateful.

Clara looked at me critically. She seemed to sense my turmoil.

Clara said, "Mexico is a harsh place. You can not let your guard down for an instant; but you will get used to it.

"The northern part of the country is even more rugged than the rest. People flock to the north in search of work; or as a stopping place before crossing the U.S. border.

"They come by trainloads. Some stay, while others travel inland in boxcars to work in the huge agricultural enterprises owned by private corporations.

"But there just is not enough food or work for everyone, so the majority go as 'braceros' to the United States."

I finished every drop of the soup; feeling guilty about leaving anything behind.

I said, "Tell me more about this area, Clara."

"All the Indians here are Yaquis who were relocated to Sonora by the Mexican government."

"Do you mean they have not always been here?"

Clara explained, "This is their ancestral homeland, but in the twenties and thirties, they were uprooted and sent by the tens of thousands to central Mexico. Then in the late forties, they were brought back to the Sonoran Desert."

Clara poured some mineral water into her glass, and then filled mine.

She said, "It is hard to live in the Sonoran Desert. As you saw while driving, the land here is rugged and inhospitable.

"Yet the Indians had no choice but to settle around the shambles of what was once the Yaqui River. There, in ancient times, the original Yaquis built their sacred towns and lived in them for hundreds of years until the Spaniards came."

I asked, "Will we drive by those towns?"

"No. We do not have time. I want to get to Navojoa before dark. Maybe someday we can take a trip to visit these sacred towns."

"Why are those towns sacred?"

"Because for the Indians the location of each town along the river symbolically corresponds to a spot in their mythical world. These sites, like the lava mountains in Arizona, are places of power.

"The Indians have a very rich mythology. They believe they can step in and out of a dream world at a moment's notice. You see, their concept of reality is not like ours.

Clara continued, saying, "According to the Yaqui myths, those towns also exist in the other world, and it is from that ethereal realm that they receive their power.

They call themselves the people without reason to differentiate themselves from us; the people with reason."

I asked, "What sort of power do they get?"

"Their magic, their sorcery, their knowledge; all of that comes down to them directly from the dream world.

"That world is described in their legends and stories. The Yaqui Indians have a rich, extensive oral history."

I looked around the crowded restaurant. I wondered which of the people sitting at the tables, if any, were Indians, and which were Mexican.

Some of the men were tall and wiry, while others were short and stocky. All the people looked foreign to me, and I felt secretly superior and distinctly out of place.

Clara finished the shrimp along with the beans and rice.

I felt bloated myself, but in spite of my protests, she insisted on ordering caramel custard for dessert.

"You had better fill up," she said with a wink. "You never know when you will have your next meal; or what it will consist of. Here in Mexico we always eat the kill of the day."

I knew she was teasing me, and yet I sensed truth in her words.

Earlier I had seen a dead donkey hit by a car on the highway. I knew that the rural areas lack refrigeration and therefore people eat whatever meat is available.

I could not help wondering what my next meal would be. Silently, I decided to limit my stay with Clara to only a couple of days.

In a more serious tone, Clara continued her discussion, saying, "Things went from bad to worse for the Indians here, When the government built a dam as part of a hydroelectric project, it changed the course of the Yaqui River so drastically that the people had to pack up and settle elsewhere."

The harshness of this kind of life clashed with my own upbringing where there was always enough food and comfort. I wondered if my coming to Mexico was the expression of my deep desire for a complete change.

All my life I had been searching for adventure. Yet now that I was in its clutches, a dread of the unknown filled me.

I took a bite of the caramel custard, and put out of my mind the dread which had sprouted since meeting Clara in the Arizona desert.

I was glad to be in her company.

At the moment, I was well-fed on jumbo shrimp and turtle soup. And even though, as Clara herself had intimated, this might be my last good meal, I decided I would have to trust her and allow the adventure to unfold.

Clara insisted on paying the bill.

We filled up the cars with gasoline, and were on the road again.

After driving for several more hours, we arrived at Navojoa. We did not stop but went through it; leaving the Pan American Highway to turn onto a gravel road heading east, then south.

It was mid-afternoon but I was not tired at all. In fact, I enjoyed the remainder of the trip.

The further south we drove, the more a sense of happiness and well-being replaced my habitual neurotic and depressed state.

After more than one hour of a bumpy ride, Clara veered off the road and signaled for me to follow.

We coasted on hard ground along a high wall topped by a flowering bougainvillaea.

We parked in a clearing of well-packed earth at the end of the wall.

"This is where I live," she called to me as she eased herself out of the driver's seat.

I walked to her car. She looked tired and seemed to have grown bigger.

Clara commented, "You look as fresh as when we started. Ah, the marvels of youth!"

On the other side of the wall, completely hidden by trees and dense shrubs, loomed a huge house with a tile roof, barred windows and several balconies.

In a daze, I followed Clara through a wrought-iron gate, past a brick patio, and through a heavy wooden door into the back of the house.

The terra-cotta tile floor of the cool, empty hall enhanced the starkness of the whitewashed walls and the dark natural wood beams of the ceiling.

We walked through the hall into a spacious living room.

The white walls were bordered with exquisitely painted tiles.

Two immaculate beige couches and four armchairs were arranged in a cluster around a heavy wooden coffee table.

On top of the table were some open magazines in English and Spanish.

I had the impression that someone had just been reading them, sitting in one of the armchairs, but had left in a hurry when we entered through the back door.

Beaming proudly, Clara asked, "What do you think of my house?"

"It is fantastic," I said. "Who would have thought there would be such a house way out here in the wilderness?"

Then my envious self reared its head and I became utterly ill at ease. The house was the kind of house I had always dreamed of owning, yet knew I would never be able to afford.

Clara said, "You can not imagine how accurate you are in describing this place as fantastic.

"All I can tell you about the house is that, like those lava mountains we saw this morning, it is imbued with power. A silent exquisite power runs through the house like an electric current runs through wires."

Upon hearing this, an inexplicable thing happened. My envy disappeared. It vanished totally with the last word she said.

Clara announced, "Now I will show you to your bedroom. And I will also set up some ground rules you must observe while you are here as my guest.

"Any part of the house which is to the right and to the back of this living room is yours to use and explore, and that includes the grounds.

"But you must not enter any of the bedrooms, except of course, yours.

"There you can use anything you want. You can even break things in fits of anger; or love them in outbursts of affection.

"The left side of the house, however, is not accessible to you at any time; in any way, shape or form. So stay out of it."

I was shocked by her bizarre request. My feeling was that her request was rude and arbitrary.

Yet I assured Clara that I understood perfectly, and that I would acquiesce to her wishes.

Clara seemed to think of something else, and added, "Of course, you can use this living room. You can even sleep here on the sofa if you are too tired or lazy to go to your bedroom.

"However, another part you can not use is the grounds in front of the house, and also, not the main door. It is locked for the time being, so always enter the house through the back door."

The more Clara warned me to stay away from certain parts of the house, the more curious I became to see them.

Clara did not give me time to respond.

She ushered me down a long corridor past several closed doors which she said were bedrooms and therefore forbidden to me.

We came to a large bedroom. The first thing I noticed upon entering it was the ornate wooden double bed. It was covered with a beautiful crocheted off-white bedspread.

Next to a window on the wall facing the back of the house stood a hand-carved, mahogany etagere filled to capacity with antique objects, porcelain vases and figurines, cloisonne boxes, and tiny bowls.

On the other wall was a matching armoire, which Clara opened. Hanging inside were women's vintage dresses, coats, hats, shoes, parasols, and canes. All of them seemed to be exquisite hand-picked items.

Before I could ask Clara where she had gotten those beautiful things, she closed the doors.

"Feel free to use anything you wish," she said. "These are your clothes, and this is your room for as long as you stay in this house."

She then glanced over her shoulder as if someone else were in the room, and added, "And who can tell how long that will be!"

It appeared that she was talking about an extended visit.

I felt my palms sweat as I awkwardly told her that I could, at best, stay for only a few days.

Clara assured me that I would be perfectly safe with her there; much safer, in fact, than anywhere else.

She added that it would be foolish for me to pass up this opportunity to broaden my knowledge.

As an excuse, I said, "But I have got to look for a job. I do not have any money."

"Do not worry about money," she said. "I will lend you whatever you need; or give it to you. It is no problem."

I thanked her for her offer, but informed her that I had been brought up to believe that to accept money from a stranger was highly improper no matter how well-meaning the offer was.

She rebuffed me, saying, "I think what is the matter with you, Taisha, is that you got angry when I requested that you do not use the left side of the house or the main door.

"I know that you felt I was being arbitrary and excessively secretive. Now you do not want to stay more than a polite day or two. Maybe you even think I am an eccentric old woman with a few bats in the belfry?"

"No, no, Clara, it is not that. I have got to pay my rent. If I do not find a job soon I will not have any money; and to accept money from anyone is out of the question for me."

"Do you mean that you did not get offended by my request to avoid certain parts of the house?"

"Of course not."

"Did you not get curious to know why I made the request?"

"Yes, I was curious."

"Well, the reason is that other people live on that side of the house."

"Your relatives, Clara?"

"Yes. We are a large family. There are, in fact, two families living here."

"Are they both large families?"

"They are. Each has eight members, making sixteen people all together."

In all my life I had never heard of such an odd arrangement. I asked, "And they all live on the left side of the house, Clara?"

"No. Only eight live there. The other eight are my immediate family and they live with me on the right side of the house.

"You are my guest, so you must stay on the right side. It is very important that you understand this. It may be unusual, but it is not incomprehensible."

I marveled at her power over me. Her words put my emotions at ease, but they did not calm my mind.

I understood then that in order to react intelligently in any situation, I needed a conjunction of both an alarmed mind and unsettled emotions.

Otherwise, I remained passive, waiting for the next external impulse to sway me.

Being with Clara had made me understand that in spite of my protest to the contrary, and in spite of my struggle to be different and independent, I was incapable of thinking clearly, or of making my own decisions.

Clara gave me a most peculiar look, as if she were following my unvoiced thoughts. I tried to mask my confusion by hurriedly saying, "Your house is beautiful, Clara. Is it very old?"

"Of course," she said, but did not explain whether she meant that it was a beautiful house or that it was very old.

With a smile she added, "Now that you have seen the house- that is, half of it- we have a little business to take care of."

She removed a flashlight from one of the cabinets, and from the armoire she took out a padded Chinese jacket and a pair of hiking boots. She told me that I had to put them on, after we had a snack, because we would be going for a walk.

"But we just got here," I protested. "Will it not be dark soon?"

"Yes. But I want to take you to a look-out point in the hills from where you can see the entire house and grounds.

"It will be best for you to first see the house at this time of the day. We all had our first glimpse of this house in the twilight."

"Who do you mean when you say 'we'?" I asked.

"The sixteen people that live here; naturally. All of us do exactly the same things."

"All of you have the same professions?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

"Good gracious, no," she said, bringing her hand to her face as she laughed.

"I mean that whatever any one of us has to obligatorily do, the rest of us also have to do. Each one of us had to first see the house and grounds in the twilight; so that is the time you must view it, too."

"Why are you including me in this, Clara?"

"Let us just say for now it is because you are my guest."

"Am I going to meet your relatives later on?"

"You will get to know all of them," she assured me. "At the moment, there is no one in the house except the two of us, and a guard dog."

"Are they away on a trip?"

"Exactly. All of them have left for an extended journey, and here I am guarding the house with the dog."

"When are you expecting them back?"

"It will be a matter of weeks yet, maybe even months."

"Where did they go?"

"We are always on the move. Sometimes I leave for months at a time, and someone else stays behind to look after the property."

I was about to ask again where they went, but she answered my question, saying, "They all went to India."

"All fifteen of them?" I asked incredulously.

In a tone of voice that was a caricature of me and my inner feelings of envy, Clara said, "Is that not remarkable? It will cost a fortune!"

I had to laugh in spite of myself.

Then the thought struck me that it would not be safe to be alone in such a remote, empty house with only Clara for company.

Clara, with a curious finality, said, "We are alone, but there is nothing to fear in this house.

"...except maybe the dog. When we return from our walk, I will introduce you to him.

"You have got to be very calm to meet him. He will see right through you, and attack if he senses any hostility; or that you are afraid."

"But I am afraid," I blurted out. I was already starting to shake.

I had hated dogs ever since I was a child, when one of my father's Doberman pinschers jumped on me and pushed me to the ground.

The dog did not actually bite me, she just growled and showed me her pointed teeth.

I had screamed for help, for I was too terrified to move. I was so frightened that I wet my pants. I still remember how my brothers made fun of me when they saw me; calling me a baby that should be wearing diapers.

"I do not like dogs one bit, myself," Clara said, "but the dog we have is not really a dog. He is something else."

She had sparked my interest, but that did not dispel my sense of foreboding.

Cara said, "If you want to freshen up first, I will accompany you to the outhouse- just in case the dog is prowling around."

I nodded; tired and irritable. The impact of the long drive had finally caught up with me.

I wanted to wash the dust of the road from my face and comb the tangles out of my stringy hair.

Clara led me through a different corridor, then out to the back. There were two small buildings at a distance from the main house.

Clara, pointing at one of them, said, "That is my gymnasium. It is off limits to you, too; unless I care to invite you in someday."

"Is that where you practice martial arts?"

"It is," Clara said dryly. "The other building is the outhouse.

"I will wait for you in the living room where we can have some sandwiches.

"But do not bother about fixing your hair," she said, as if noticing my preoccupation. "There are no mirrors here.

"Mirrors are like clocks. They record the passage of time; and what is important is to reverse it."

I wanted to ask her what she meant by reversing time, but she prodded me toward the outhouse.

Inside, I found several doors. Since Clara had not made any stipulations about the left and right sides of this building, and since I did not know where the toilet was, I explored all of it.

On one side of the central hall, there were six small water closets; each with a low wooden toilet the height for squatting.

What made them unusual was that I did not notice the distinct odor of a septic tank, nor the overpowering stench of lime-filled dirt holes.

I could hear water running underneath the wooden toilets, but I could not tell how or from where it was led in.

On the other side of the hall, there were three identical beautifully tiled rooms.

Each contained a free-standing antique tub and a long chest on top of which sat a pitcher filled with water and a matching porcelain basin.

There were no mirrors in those rooms, or any stainless-steel fixtures on which I could have caught my reflection. In fact, there was no plumbing at all.

I poured water into a basin, splashed my face with it, then ran my wet fingers through my tangled hair.

Instead of using one of the soft white Turkish towels for fear I would dirty it, I wiped my hands with some tissues that were in a box on the chest.

I took several deep breaths and rubbed my tense neck before going out to face Clara again.

I found her in the living room arranging flowers in a blue and white Chinese vase. The magazines that had been open earlier were neatly stacked, and next to them was a plate of food.

Clara smiled when she saw me, and said, "You look as fresh as a daisy. Have a sandwich.

"Soon it will be twilight. We have no time to lose."