For the first time in a long time, Kilian decided to write a letter to Mariana and Catalina in which he promised that in a few months, at the beginning of the following year, he would come home. Perhaps, he thought as he chose the difficult words of condolence, the unexpected joy of his return would help to distract, if not lessen, her pain.
As if the land had begun to say its good-byes, that year the harvest suffered an unexpected virulent attack of Characoma, a caterpillar that bores into the cocoa pod husks. The plantation was a pitiful sight to behold. There was not a pod that could have been saved from the tiny pink crawlers. The scales and scabs of the necrotized skin covered almost the entire surface of all the pods. Due to the infestation, the ripening process could not be tracked. In some areas, the harvest suffered delays because the scabs had not only halted access to sunlight, but also prevented the fungicides from working properly. Though the harvest was already hard in itself, that year they had more work to do than ever. To prevent other invasive attacks from the plantations’ persistent colonizers, drastic measures had to be taken. Once the pods were split, the shells were collected to be buried, burned, or covered in lime. The sucker branches also had to be burned, all fruit had to be taken from the trees, and pesticides had to be sprayed earlier and more often.
“Garuz will not be happy,” said José as he picked up a handful of beans and returned them to the slate sheet in the dryer. “Between the rain and the bugs, the cocoa won’t be nearly as good as other harvests.”
Beside him, Kilian seemed nervous. Every once in a while, he kicked the ground with the top of his right foot.
“What’s the matter? Is it time to dance?”
“For the last few days, my foot has been itchy. And today it hurts as well.”
“Let me see.”
Kilian sat down and took off his boot and sock. “It’s just here.” He pointed to under the nail of his fourth toe. “It really itches.”
José knelt down and came close to confirm his suspicions. “You’ve caught a chigger.” He chuckled. “You’re the same as the cocoa trees. A bug wants to colonize you.” He saw the look of disgust on Kilian’s face and hurriedly explained. “Don’t be frightened, it’s very common. The chigger is so small you can pick it up anywhere. It gets into your fingers and toes and eats the flesh with its elongated snout while filling a pouch of young. See? The offspring are in this lump.”
Kilian stretched his arm to quickly pinch it out, but José stopped him.
“Ah, no. You have to take the sac out very carefully. If it rips, the offspring will spread to the other toes. You wouldn’t be the first to lose one.”
“I’ll go to the hospital this instant!” Nervous and disgusted, Kilian put on his sock and boot as carefully as he could.
“Ask for my daughter,” José advised him. “She’s an expert at removing chiggers!”
On the way to the hospital, walking on the heel of his right foot, Kilian felt suddenly excited. It had been weeks since he had seen José’s daughter. He had to admit that on the few occasions he had gone with his friend to Bissappoo, he had harbored the hope of meeting up with her there, but apparently she did not go to the village very often. Her life was split between the hospital and her husband. On one occasion, José had commented to him that he found it strange that they did not have any children, after four years of marriage. Four years! Kilian could not believe it had been so long since her wedding day. He remembered the girl stroking him when he had been sick. Since then, they had not had a chance to see each other alone. Sometimes he had seen her crossing the main yard, determined and resolute, looking for José. She would approach her father, give him a friendly greeting, agree with his comments about the job, and throw her head back to laugh in the suffocating heat of the recently roasted cocoa. Kilian always waited for the moment in which she discreetly turned and looked at him with those eyes.
He had to admit it, yes. Many days, enlivened by the songs of the plantation’s laborers, the fantasies of them together had entertained him for hours and hours. Of all the possible women, he had gotten his hopes up for a married woman. Fortunately, he reasoned, as he climbed the building’s steps, nobody could know his thoughts or his feelings. And thanks to the disgusting bug that was trying to take over his foot, the possibility existed of enjoying a precious while alone with her.
He entered directly into the large hall where the sick laborers were seen and glanced over the beds laid out in an orderly manner on both sides of the room. A male nurse came over to him and directed him to a small room where the treatments were carried out. Kilian knocked on the door a few times and without waiting for an answer opened it.
He let out a surprised gasp, and his hopes melted away.
His brother was in a chair with his shirt stained in blood and a wooden gag between his teeth while José’s daughter stitched a deep cut on his left hand. The woman paused as Kilian walked into the room.
“What happened to you?” asked a worried Kilian.
Jacobo took the gag out of his mouth. His face was covered in sweat.
“I cut myself with the machete.”
“What were you thinking?” He looked at the nurse. “Manuel isn’t here?”
“He’s gone to the city,” she answered. Seeing that he continued to look at her, she added, with a little arrogance, “But I know how to cure wounds like this.”
“I’m sure you do,” Kilian replied firmly. “Is it serious?”
“A couple more stitches and I’ll be finished. The cut is clean but deep. It will take some days to heal.”
“Just as well it’s my left hand!” said Jacobo. “At least I can button my trousers by myself.” He giggled nervously. “It’s a joke. Come here, Kilian, talk to me while this beauty finishes. It’s the first time I’ve had stitches, and it hurts a lot.”
Kilian dragged a chair over, and the nurse continued her work.
Jacobo winced. “You are so pretty, yet you cause so much pain!”
Kilian placed the wooden gag between his brother’s teeth, who pressed hard while breathing agitatedly. Kilian frowned on seeing the cut and admired the way José’s daughter showed no signs of distaste. She must be used to seeing worse things. She soon finished the last stitch, cut the thread, disinfected the wound once again, covered it with clean gauze, and carefully bandaged the hand.
“Thank God you’re finished.” Jacobo passed his tongue along his dry lips and sighed. “A little more and I would have been in tears.”
“Don’t worry, Jacobo. Your dignity is safe.” Kilian gave him a few pats on the arm.
“I hope so . . .” He winked at the nurse. “Because everything comes out here.”
She did not even flicker as she collected her things and got up. “You’ll have to come back in a couple of days so that the doctor can look at the wound and tell you when the stitches can come out. Try not to move the hand too much.” She turned and went toward the door.
“Wait!” said Kilian. “I need you too.”
She turned around. “Excuse me. I thought you came to look for your brother.” She frowned. “What’s the problem?”
“A chigger.”