Blog 13-Que Mucho Hablamos Las Mujeres

Patria and I rose and walked together toward the water, glistening silver in the moonlight. We stood with our arms around each other's waists, and faced the Base.
I spoke softly. "Que mucho hablamos las mujeres."
Patria nodded. "Sometimes men say women only talk, but our stories are how we change the world. Isn't it strange the way the outer perimeter fence juts out of the water, comes in and out of view as the searchlight arches over it? Here in Karaya the Base screams, 'You're occupied by a foreign army." She spoke and her boldness infected me. I welcomed the defiance in my voice. "In socialist Ventura the Base screams, 'You may have made a revolution but I'm still the Empire. A permanent fuck you.”
She shook her head. “Not permanent. I'm damned if I'm going to let discouragement give them victory. I refuse to be defeated. We, all of us here in Palenque, refuse to be defeated.”
We sat on a mound of sand. The tide was out and the moonlit sand shone wet and flat. She returned my phone. “Who are you here for?” I pointed to the frozen image of Machi and Taina. “The Palenque question! We're looking for Machi's Father, and for my friend Julia's son, Taina's Dad. We got here on yesterday's ferry.” She moved closer to me and brought her face near mine so we could hear each other over the drumming. She looked into my eyes and stroked my cheek. “I can't believe I've run into you here after all these years.”
I pulled her by the arm. "Let's go. What if Machi comes back?" I set off for my campsite. I set the phone camera to record and propped it on a rock. “Do you mind? I forgot to do my video journal. I try to video at least one snippet of every day.” She kept her eyes on me. “I remember that about you. Always watching and recording. It used to be just a notebook. I used to watch you from my kitchen window in the early mornings before Machi woke up. You were the only adult who actually used the tiny patio between my house and Adela's. You'd sit in the rocking chair Adela and Noel kept in the patiecito, between their room and his studio right by my own side of that yard. I wondered what it was you were writing in that marble notebook.” I checked the video image. It showed Patria facing the fire, leaning into the seapine. To her right it caught a glimpse of Taina's feet sticking out of the lean-to and her small body pushed against her grandmother 's legs. I sat back down close to Patria, inside the frame.