WITNESS-Part II

WITNESS-Part II

By: Prayer Warrior

The blue sky reassured me that not everything had changed.  The sun shone brightly on the tiles of my aunt’s courtyard.  Yeye was skipping rope, while the boys had their heads together, whispering, always whispering since the day they came home from the awful place where they had been held.  Tata didn’t burst out in song or grab me for a twirl as she had always done before.  She seemed to have grown up from one day to the next, now spending all her time with the adults.  My father was always serious, with anger bubbling just under the surface.  It scared me a little... this angry Papi. My beautiful mother rarely smiled and spoke little.  She seemed to have an interior dialogue going constantly with Papa Dios (Daddy God).

Havana was quieter than normal.  When we had visited before, the streets were a whirlwind of sound and activity.  The guagua’s (small buses built to navigate the narrow streets) chugged along as the street vendors hawked their wares to the visitors to the city.  Whenever we came to the capitol city, my mother held my hand firmly.  I tended to wander as new sights or sounds captured my attention. There were soldiers now, dressed in green, carrying guns in the streets and near every plaza.  My father would grab me up into his strong arms and walk in the opposite direction if we came across the soldiers.

Sometimes we passed soldiers as we walked to the church.  Mami came each day to light a candle by the statue of La Virgen de Caridad (Our Lady of Charity).  La Virgencita wore a dress of gold and baby Jesus held in her left arm was dressed to match.  The church was a cool haven from the warm sun outside and it was filled with stories.  Every window had a story, the altar had a story, the walls had stories.  I couldn’t read yet, but the richness of the carvings, windows and paintings spoke to me of holy, sacred things.  Their stories spoke to me of Papa Dios’ love. The ugly green uniforms and guns did not enter the church.

I missed my home.  I missed my toys.  I missed my brothers and sisters the way they used to be.  I missed Papi’s smiles and Mami’s laughter.  Tia was kind and generous, but her house, though grand, wasn’t home.  Then the unthinkable happened.  From one day to the next my brothers and sisters were gone.  Mami cried and cried and cried.  Papi wiped his own tears away when he thought no one was looking.  I asked a hundred times a day where they had gone.  “They left me alone…” I accused.  Mami would hold me and tell me that we would see them again soon. We needed to be patient, and we needed to keep praying to Papa Dios, to Jesus and to La Virgencita.  From the emptiness I felt I called out to Papa Dios...  That’s when I saw the angel.