Let There Be Light

The nine Graystockings had been gathered for about four hours when they stopped, all took a deep breath, and looked up. They had been concentrating very hard and it had all been worth it, for they had developed an elaborate but clear plan. It was the plan they had developed with conviction and dedication that derived from years - centuries, even - of keeping watch over what they called a nosa biblioteca, our library. Of course, it was more than a library to them, as it had been to the persons who had contributed to it for generations, sending their contributions from different parts of the world.

It should be noted that the donations had been motivated by the belief that they were all valuable, and for many reasons. There had never been an official call for these items, just as there had never been an interest in one specific type of thing. Everything that served to document what the contributors had made, felt, or discovered, was welcome. While that might seem to be a vast assortment of items, the collection had been conceived and organized quite skillfully, and along with books, letters, and journals, there were many other examples of writing (including not a few recipes) and artistic works, not to mention those produced by hands that understood the complexity of thread, yarn, and fabric. Oftentimes a personal testimony or a factual history had been presented by the individuals making the donation, which in itself increased the documentary value.

Lavinia was beginning to understand why the mysterious box that had been unearthed during the renovation of the little bar-café known as A Tertulia had contained what she had thought was an odd jumble of stitching and writing. It had all been destined para a nosa biblioteca and most likely the journey of the artifacts would eventually be revealed. And although the contents of that box had not reached their destination years ago, they had now been incorporated into the seemingly limitless holdings of the library. She knew, too, that nosa - our - library, had been created mostly by women in a clandestine fashion in order to keep it from being lost or destroyed.

The idea wasn’t really all that strange. For a long time valuable artifacts and historical sites had been hidden in some way to avoid being plundered. There were far too many examples of tombs that had been raided, stones removed from architectural structures and repurposed in other constructions, or stolen to be sold on a black market. Because the Graystockings, as the keepers of all this knowledge were now called, were aware of its value as well as the lack of physical force at their disposal - they certainly carried no weapons - they had maintained the secrecy of the project and its site. Or sites, perhaps. 

However, it was time to bring everything out into the light, or so they had decided. The decision had been difficult, but circumstances had forced them to face the task of revealing what a nosa biblioteca was and how immense it was. There was no room left in the original vault, and even the available passageways around Santiago de Compostela - most of them subterranean - were close to capacity. However, there was another factor, equally important: all the knowledge and dexterity, the creativity and wit, that had been accumulated was not serving much purpose hidden away in dark corridors and niches. People needed to be able to see, read, touch, admire the treasures if they were going to be able to learn from them. Thus, the Graystockings had developed a plan. It was a good one.

Lavinia sat to one side of the dim chamber as her friend Pilar presented the plan. She wasn’t responsible for its creation, but she felt very much a part of the attitudes and hopes that lay behind it. She also knew that she was not the only forasteira - person from away - to have shared a part of the process. She felt fortunate and also felt that perhaps this same evening her own sabbatical research in Galicia had drifted a bit further away, that it might not be relevant any longer.

Now Pilar was outlining the plan. Lavinia leaned in closer and didn’t let a single syllable of the Galician language her friend was speaking get past her. She was glad she had worked hard to become fluent - and fairly accurate - in galego. It was one of the doors she had opened during her stay and she realized, suddenly, that she would always keep it open. There was no turning back.

“We are going to establish four centers in addition to one here in Compostela,” Pilar was explaining. “Here we will mainly make use of the library in the Convento de Sampaio, Saint Pelayo Convent. Most people have no idea what capacity it has and how the convent’s residents, which now are very few, are in complete agreement. Although part of the building’s library and archives is below ground, everything is well lit and there is enough space for visitors. The sisters are skilled at keeping vigil, too.”

There was a low murmur and a muffled chuckle, because collaboration with certain groups had always been frowned upon. They were groups known to stifle, silence, or control knowledge. They could not be allowed to control the use of the valuable materials.

“We are confident that this arrangement is both safe and beneficial,” affirmed Pilar. “What we need is to develop other sites so that they too can be used safely. We have identified four places and they are now going to be presented.”

There was a silence as brilliant and strong as the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings. The women present looked at one another as if they couldn’t believe this was finally going to be out in the open. For so long, so many years, darkness had been the norm. Everything had been masked. The Graystockings themselves had used subterfuge and theatrical techniques to move the project forward until this very moment.

“We hadn’t consciously planned to establish a site in each of the four Galician provinces, but perhaps intuition knew better. This is why we wish to begin with four places, each with a similar function and appearance, but also unique.”

They were all, perhaps unconsciously, holding their breaths. What if someone had changed her mind? This decision needed to be unanimous. Pilar was speaking, providing details, although there weren’t many of those.

“We will have a large building in Santabaia, in the province of Pontevedra. Recently I took Lavinia there, we spoke with Fidelina, and we realized it was ideal for our purposes. We will be able to acquire the property - how that’s possible I will explain later - and people can come to browse or carry out other activities, like people do in a writers’ or an artists’ colony. There will be limited accommodations, here and in all four sites. Most importantly, with this model it will be possible to gather contributions from the Val de Camba, which throughout history has been an area of historical importance. It doesn’t seem like that now, which is also ideal. Santabaia, village of Eulalia - ‘she who sings sweetly’ - can become a source for pre-Roman settlements, customs, arts, up through today, with the weakening of the rural sector.”

Pilar provided more description of how Santabaia could function successfully, without fear of being removed from the map, as it were. A cultural center in a rural area would exist quietly until it had sent down enough roots to withstand and efforts to oppose it.

“Our second site is Armea, in the province of Ourense. The Armea of María Balteira is in A Coruña, near Coirós, but we feel that the Armea situated near Allariz and the cult to Santa Mariña de Augas Santas suits our purposes well. It too resembles a crossroads of historical circumstances, and it is associated with Saint Mariña of the Holy Waters, who points us further back. We know the longer certain ties have existed, the more they bind us together and the more we can learn from that.”

Pilar seemed to be presenting something more than just a plan of action. Things weren’t coming out completely in order.

“When I was referring to Santiago, I forgot to mention that we might rename it’s locale within the convent as Santa Escolástica de Compostela.” A few twitters were heard, releasing a bit of the tension in the dark air, because the implication was that Escolástica was usurping the head role from Santiago - Saint Scholastica against Saint James. Quite the match-up. Pilar continued with the third site the group had chosen after hours of deliberation.

“We like A Seara as the location for the province of Lugo. It is the one in the Ribeira Sacra region, which is geographically unique and whose environment needs to be protected. We can help with that. The original inhabitants and the subsequent ones, once again, have left their mark and we need to understand it better. The steep slopes are going to be a challenge for visitors, but that too is important. The art and lore of the Ribeira Sacra need to be archived, we need to know what songs were sung while tending to grapevines on the hills with their sucalcos, terraced plots. That said, we need to consider too the reason why this area is called the Sacred Shore. What about it was sacred and to whom?”

Pilar went on to add that in Galician, one of the meanings of seara was a community land. There was no need to belabor the point. The whole purpose of a nosa biblioteca had been to preserve and to share knowledge once it had been determined that it was safe to share it. And the village had a fantastic view with a medieval air. The perfect spot to reflect on things.

Naturally, heads nodded. How each site would work, who would be responsible for it, how their uniquenesses would develop, were as yet unclear, but that would come. Each center would receive materials from the central location in Compostela as well as developing its own.

“Our fourth site is the least specific or only river that enters sea that way. We needed to find a part of the province of A Coruña that was not close to the city itself. At this point we are looking at the area between Camariñas on the coast and the Xallas river - the only one in Europe that enters the sea in a cascade. Everybody, including the average tourist, knows about Camariñas lace and its bobbins. We also are aware that lace-making was an important activity centuries ago. Plus, we have had so many donations of lace that we know this art is certainly connected to embroidery, tapestries, or to any way fibers are used to tell a story or adorn our environment. Camariñas can create further knowledge based on what it already does.”

Pilar did not stop to explain that the name of the little town - or village - comes from camariña, Portuguese Crowberry, and that this plant has largely disappeared due to changes in its habitat. That alone was an important lesson. 

“Camariñas could be the link to the sea and was a good place to demonstrate an art few practice nowadays. Not far away, the Xallas River flows deep into the past, its name brought from a linguistic root meaning stream. It is the essence of water. All these sites are closely connected to water. The Xallas is also close to Santa Comba, another saint with water in her history and ties to other Celtic places like Cornwall.”

Pilar stopped, having realized she was preaching to the choir and wincing at the joke with a religious reference, since the group was entirely secular and yet the plan seemed unable to move forward without some collaboration with the Church. Was it true? Their project had little to do with theology and everything to do with women’s knowledge. Still…

“There are so many details to be worked out, but this plan starts with four sites, one for each province. If the total number of five sites sounds like a reference to the fingers of a hand, so be it. We were not looking for symbolism, especially not that obvious.”

Now people were aware of the levity in Pilar’s tone, her slight parody of various voices of ‘authority’, her honesty in saying they would move ahead, establishing the sites and offering their contents to visitors who would use them wisely.

There was not going to be a series of negotiations with the autoridades, and in fact the intent was to do everything without attracting much attention. Have things up and running, as it were, before anyone started to pull political stunts. By the time anybody noticed the centers were there, they’d be too well established to eliminate them. Nice and organic, cropping up like mushrooms overnight, just not as many.

Although the majority of the persons in the room were members of the Graystockings, Lavinia noticed there had been a few who were in a position similar to hers. Like her, they sat like novices - young women in training to be nuns - around the margins, yet not at all marginalized. (Forgive the reference to nuns; it couldn’t be helped.) They were all present for the same reason and nobody had wandered into the group by chance. Some, however, had more information to provide, while others - the ‘novices’ - were there to learn more. 

They were there because somebody had observed them and thought they would like to learn about the Graystockings and their important task.

They were there because, in some way, they were not estranxeiras. They weren’t foreigners.

The chamber was utterly silent, as thoughts hurried off to one of the four provinces or to the nearby convent in Compostela, looking forward to the teasingly subtle revelation of all that had been accumulated and guarded for so, so long. Fingers itched to move, minds raced to coordinate and catalog, hearts hoped all would go well. Then the silence disappeared. Pilar the Librarian, the other Pilar as Lavinia thought of her, stood to speak. Lavinia was still not sure if Pilar the Librarian was a Graystocking or a mentor or some sort of meiga -  here to be understood not as witch but as sorceress - but there was no doubting her total allegiance to the library, to a nosa biblioteca, and to ensuring its future. Then she spoke:

“The plan makes a lot of sense. Too much sense.”

Smiles and other signs of agreement. Pilar continued, and as she did, the vast black silence drew around her like a mourning cloak:

“However, it won’t work.”