Blog 51-Grito Day

At last Grito day came. Anacaona came by to our casita early that morning and handed out the orange mamelucos made to resemble what the inmates wore in the Camp. The Señoras had made small ones for the children. Machi and David were not home yet. Where had Todos been last night? There had been a blackout on the live stream. The rest of us dressed quickly, went over to the Señoras' Comedor and downed cafe with real goat leche Patria had left in their refrigerator late last night. Taina was herded into the young people's contingent which was to lead the Wade-in to the Camp. They raced to the beach with Seño Rosa who had taken on the task of keeping them in four lines six wide. Taina and Yuissa were in front, holding the banner. Free them Now.
We amassed. The children, the Señoras. Machi's crew and the others raced down from the hill dressed in black pants and T-shirts with red bandannas, the colors of the Partido de la Felicidad, but did they know that? They ran down screaming, ululating and surged into our group in the water. Within minutes the whole encampment joined us and half of Coral. Dulce, from Migajas, her daughter Rita, Padre Ezequiel. We made a formidable mass, slowly and firmly wading toward the partly submerged Camp fence. We stood on one side and Guardias stood on the other. For several minutes, before the order was given to hose us, we held the gazes of the Guardias. I stared at one young man. I believed he wanted to cross the river. I didn't see Franz or Doug among those guarding the fence. I saw others like them. I believed that many had wrested their minds free, even if this was the best gig they had, the military industry, like the prison industry, was among the last few still standing.
My Guardia nodded slightly and I knew the hosing was coming. We were ready. We ducked under water, turned our backs and headed straight to the shore. Machi had Yuissa in his arms. David had Taina. Seño Rosa saw to it that each child was in the arms of a young man in black.
The Guardias stopped the hosing as soon as we turned our backs to them as Anacaona had told us they would. It was not my imagination that they were on our side, some of them, maybe most of them.
On the beach we formed a circle around Anacaona.
“Another victory,” she said. She had a sweet, firm, confident, powerful voice. “Small maybe. But it is small victories like this that build to the critical moment. Did you see the Guardias holding back? How different than last Grito Day's Wade in when they wouldn't stop! On this side of the fence we know we have already won. And on that side of the fence, I think they know. They are waiting for Zero One to give the signal. They are poised to cross the river.”
We crowded into the Comedor. A few Señoras, among them Julia, had stayed behind to fix a breakfast feast for after the Wade-in. The Señoras' had scrambled eggs that were usually only for the children, with green chilies from the garden. We ate goat butter spread on bread Dulce brought in from the bakery in Coral. I looked around for Machi and saw him sitting at the far end of the long table where the food was laid out, talking with Anacaona, their heads very close. If only they found each other! I wished my son the love of a good, strong woman. After our meal Julia, with several of the elders, and Seno Rosa led the children off to the Grito Day Festival de los Niños. Young adult women from La Escuelita organized games of soccer, or la rueda rueda, just feet away from the caves where they could shelter the children if they needed to be kept safe.