Did you know that Jane Fast was once on the nationally acclaimed talk show, Jerry Springer? Ask and she will tell…
Here in Ecuador I have just lived through a campo version of the show that made my mother famous. Owing to the fact that my village is incredibly small, events are always blown out of proportion. Neighborly disagreements snowball into family feuds, and lovers´spats transform into death threats and divorce. My February episode of Jerry Springer contains all of the above.
As my Quichua is still nascent, the entire story of Nicoletta and Santiago is not clear to me · making my version of the events biased and bizarre.
At 9pm on February 8th, as I was helping my NGO´s engineers stuff seeds into baggies in the capital city, 19 year old Nicoletta stormed out of the humble house she shared with my host brother Santiago with her 1 year old child in tow. The infant´s cries woke the rest of the family compound, whose scattered huts are in close proximity. But nothing, not Santiago´s pleading, nor Grandmother´s begging, could dissuade Nicoletta from running away. She ran all the way to her own mother´s house, about ten minutes down the road, rendering the situation · in my mind at least · somewhat comical by the sheer proximity of the star crossed lovers.
The next day at our women´s group meeting, Santiago stalked in halfway through the meeting and announced, “I´m here in place of Nicoletta, she abandoned me last night.” His frankness caused an uncomfortable silence in the meeting hall, followed by the muffled sobs of Santiago´s sister Hortencia. I surveyed the crowd trying to discern if this were the sort of native humor that I was not yet privy too. But my host grandmother´s tears confirmed the sad state of affairs. Hortencia´s crying grew more proncounced until she excused herself, and with her exit we lost the last shred of the audience´s attention to the workshop on vegetable gardens.
Later, after the engineers had departed for the city and I was once more left alone with my ´modern´thoughts, I tried in vain to gather intelligence on Nicoletta´s disappearance. The only response I got from the female members of my family were pitiful tears and sniffles. I avoided Santiago so as to dispel rumors that I, the fresh female meat on the block, were somehow to blame for their separation. During the next 48 hours, Santiago confined himself to bed and proclaimed that he was ´sick.´ All meals were brought to him in bed and his television kept on all hours of the day. Then, the third day, he magically healed and was up before the rest of the family.
Still oblivious to the specific going·ons, I politely greeted the Nicoletta´s mom and brother upon my return from teaching at the school. The duo was clearly at odds with the surrounding · both were covered in shawls as if trying to conceal their identities. “Have you seen Nicoletta??” the mother clutched my arm in a vice like grip. I answered truthfully that I had not. “I know she´s here, I saw Santiago drag her here by her hair earlier, he has her tied up in the house right now!” she screeched in broken Spanish. As if her statement had not delivered the intended effect of scaring me she added, “The baby´s tied up too!”
Alarmed I jogged to the door of Santiago´s house and pounded until my knuckles reminded me of their fragility.
The mother and son had remained 25 meters away, huddled together. Arriving at their side I whisper yelled, “No one is inside.”
She looked at me with a mix of pity and exasperation. “She´s bound and gagged, my daughter cannot answer you.” Oh. Right. I convinced them to approach the house, to facilitate my breaking and entering plan. We managed to open one window to peer into the side bedroom. There, indeed, was Nicoletta´s pink shawl. But no trace of a body…or a baby. The other window, which would allow a sideways glance into the main room of the house, was a much more complicated ordeal. The window pane was broken at the very top, allowing me to slide a curved stick into position to unhook the inside latch. In doing so I sliced my thumb wide open, but with the concentration of McGuiver, I did not notice until after the deed was completed.
Window open, we craned our necks and saw…
nothing. No trace of Nicoletta. I didn´t know what else to do so I shrugged my shoulders helplessly and assured her I would personally call if Nicoletta showed up. The cloaked pair sulked away, never releasing each others´hands. I hastily closed the window and attempted to erase all signs of my wrong doings.
“Psssssttt!!” Thumb in my mouth, I looked up with a start. Nicoletta was standing behind a tree, beckoning me close. “Jesus, Maria, and Joseph! Your mother is so worried! Why don´t you at least talk to her and let her know you´re ok??”
Between sobs Nicoletta recounted her past three days. How she and Santiago had fought, he threatened her with a knife, and turned the gas stove on in an improvised murder attempt. How Nicoletta had run home and her mother convinced her to divorce Santiago, but Nicoletta had realized how much she loved him and wanted to return to him. Then Nicoletta´s mother had tried to beat her and Nicoletta had called Santiago and run back here in the morning.
I listened wide eyed and incredulous. Not knowing whether or not to believe all of her story and certainly not envying her position in life.
She paused for breath long enough to ask, “What did my mom want?”
Now, a week later, Nicoletta and Santiago are living happily ever after, Nicoletta has been excommunicated from her family, and I try t o avoid Santiago. Eeeeeeeeee.
Thanks for reading!
