Gold for the Poor...

Author’s Note: 

This story can be read alone, but it has ties to the Lavinia Rivers stories also on this site. Clue: If the title includes words like Galician or Santiago, it’s almost certain Lavinia Rivers is in the story. If there is the color gray in the title or the name Pilar, it’s also part of Lavinia’s narrative. 

All or almost all of these stories are set in Santiago de Compostela, in the northwestern corner of the Iberian Peninsula. Santiago has around 100,000 residents now, but once, centuries ago, it was a tiny place with a forgotten tomb. It was a rainy land with Swabians, Celts, and more than its share of ‘those’ ways of thinking. It was a land of hard work, supple limbs, hearty laughter, and myth after myth after myth.

Later the tomb, duly certified by someone very high up as belonging to Saint James (James the Elder, one of the twelve apostles), would become a major pilgrimage site. That makes the city feel inflated with people, but since the old stone walls are elastic, the visitors fit. They arrive, pray, eat, do all the things they’ve come to do. They leave, and new visitors replace them. Yet the oldest part of the city makes everybody play by its rules. They are very old rules, have been in effect for a long, long time. The land is in charge, and eventually humans would learn its language. You might even say they learned the land-guage.

The pilgrims, believers or not, are aware of Santiago’s story and the importance it has for the city as well as the entire peninsula. When generations and nations watch the travelers along The Way of Saint James, they feel like they are witnessing a river current. A current that is echoed by the Milky Way. That current washes people along with it, but when the final destination is reached, people also wash up on the shore, on land. If they must finance their pilgrimage by what they can make, they will be hawking their wares, elbowing for space along the route to the Apostle and especially within his city.

One rule is to allow the street vendors, artists and artisans, mimes, musicians - all of them - to pursue their work freely. Nobody ever tries to harass the people who have taken to the streets to earn money for supper. Some members of this colorful street population use humor; others, artistic talent; others, a low price for a trinket. There are always copious amounts of mimes or ‘statue-imitators’ who freeze interminably in a symbolic pose. 

Now for another fact that some of you might already know. The Galician Antroido is held at the same time as Mardi Gras and Carnaval, but it is way different. The European climate at that time of year doesn’t allow for skimpy, feathery adornments, for one thing. There is considerable cross-dressing during the Antroido (also known as Entroido because the -a- and the -e- get switched a lot in the local language). There is likewise a lot of political parody with surprising complexity. Galician humor is like no other in the world. It’s similar to irony, but kicked up a notch.

Definitely ‘dressing up’ is a great deal of fun during this particular part of the year (o Antroido) and there are also more than a few persons strewn along the medieval streets all year round, also wearing costumes, trying to earn a living. This is perhaps the reason why there is a greater level of social acceptance if an individual walks around dressed as, say, a pirate. There is no definitive ‘costume season’. 

It has seemed necessary to provide this context in order for readers to understand that there are indeed ties that bind this story to others by the same author. Also, it might help understand that the author, by writing, hopes to work out some of her obsession with this part of the world. 

(The stories are not likely to stop, at least in the near future.)

And now the story can finally begin.

***

There is a figure who makes his way along the old streets of Santiago, the part they call the casco vello. Like the fellow in the old rock song, it seems he’s got no particular place to go. He selects the most meandering route possible each time he appears. People have always enjoyed watching him, because he resembles one of the pícaros of several centuries ago. He seems to always be on the verge of playing a trick on someone. That might be due to the sparkle in his eyes or to the way he has of twisting his upper lip just so, suggesting a secret plan. Twinkle and twist: a perfect combination.

It isn’t for any of those reasons, however, that the lithe (but swashbuckling) figure who wanders the streets is considered a bit out of the ordinary. It is actually because he dresses in a unique fashion. He is clad in the clothing one imagines a pirate captain wearing when the traditional pirates roamed seas and ports. What spectators are questioning is the reason a pirate would be so far from the port and his ship. Santiago sits inland a number of kilometers and is quite a few meters above sea level. That was all. The pirate seems out of place, lost.

This pirate is obsessed with finding what he calls a mythical treasure. That is clear to the passersby, all of whom hear him saying, among other things:

Onde vai o tesouro? Onde vai? Quen o ten? 

[Where’s the treasure? Where is it? Who’s got it?]

There are other things people can discern, but this set of three brief phrases is the most frequent. It is somewhat odd, though, because there is no reference to hidden or buried treasure. There is more of a demand to know who has it. Add to this the fact that pirates would never go around cities asking about treasures; they just look for them and claim them.

Also add one item to the costume and questions the figure bears through the streets like they are an open-air theater.The pirate is carrying a small burlap sack, its fibers tightly woven for strength, so that it is sturdy enough to hold the coins he is given as alms. It is possible that the poor, addled pirate thinks this is his treasure! He promenades around, cutting quite a figure, and smiling onlookers drop some metal into his pouch. He obviously needs some extra change, because he’d never be able to hold down a real job…

Another thing the audience notices is the pirate’s scratchy voice. It sounds like he’s using an old person’s throat, like when the Santa Claus impersonator says ho, ho, ho! Or like your grandfather sounds when he’s got a bad cold. It isn’t a mean voice. Probably the ‘pirate’ is not a pirate at heart. That’s why he can’t work up a lot of enthusiasm for his cosplay or whatever it is he’s doing. His voice gives him away, but it’s still entertaining, have to give him credit for trying.

This is the wrong conclusion, on more than one level. You’ll see.

First of all, I know something not many people know. I know that this person, despite the apparel, is not really a pirate captain. I am really sorry for not being transparent right from the beginning, but it couldn’t be helped. This pirate person is in fact a tolo who considers himself to be a stage actor. Some people are already aware of the Conxo asylum on the outskirts of Santiago, because they have read stories about it. Those are the ones who know exactly what the tolo reference means. Inmates of Conxo occasionally found their way to the casco vello and the fun of being in the ‘big city’.

Many communities have members who are challenged on an intellectual level. There is no smirk or giggle hidden here. The important thing is to care for that person as a group. While a city and not a tight-knit village, Santiago still follows the community care taking model to a large degree. The tolos who make an appearance in the narrow streets are well tended to and appear to be quite happy. They aren’t adverse to having an audience, either, as they show off their talents.

So people who are from the city, who are jokingly called picheleiros, attribute the pirate-out-of-place to one of this particular tolo’s practice sessions, as if he were auditioning for a role in an upcoming dramatic production. The visitors, new and old, pilgrims or not, simply see him as someone in the street wearing a pirate costume. They have no idea what is hidden beneath the buccaneer’s garments.

At this point, the pirate has passed by and things are just about back to normal. Except for the sticky, singsongy echo of the pirate’s search for the treasure that has already been classified as mythical. Except for what I, and now you, know: that the pirate is not a street performer but rather a tolo.

Narrator’s Note:

This does not mean the pirate person does not have information about a hidden treasure. He does have information, as we shall see. In fact, in order to hide what he knows, he says he’s looking for El Dorado. Of course El Dorado was on a completely different continent on the other side of the ocean, but maybe the fellow was not very good at geography. You may be wondering how I know what the pirate knows, but I don’t think I need to reveal that. At least not for the moment.

Said pirate now is on a parallel street, stating his purpose in coming here to threaten (or amuse) the inland citizens of Santiago. He says he wants to find the treasure, then he shocks everyone when he affirms:

“I promise to donate it all to the Church in payment for having sinned.” 

That’s what he says, but it’s not what he intends to do. That’s not what he intends to do because the treasure he is seeking is not the type of treasure one donates to a religious institution. I know that for a fact. Trust me.

Observers of the pirate know that if a treasure were to be located (highly unlikely, of course), its site would become famous, would possibly become another pilgrimage destination. We think that way because money, especially in the form of gold, is clearly what many worship. Almost like the good old days, when people worshipped golden idols named Baal somewhere in the Bible. History repeats itself.

Except sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes there is a long, long interlude of lucidity or maybe there is a constantly-flowing stream of knowledge. To survive, the stream may have had to become invisible, or silent, or just hidden away somewhere safe. To conceal it, the sentinels would make use of walls, or mirrors, or disguises, or coded speech, among other things.

Back to our pirate who is actually a tolo. What about the fact that this person is not a tolo but simply a person who is playing the part of a simpleton dressed as a buccaneer? Is this all a scam, an attempt to bilk people by acting like the few coins collected were a treasure? Make them laugh and get coins tossed into a pouch? Oh, silly fool, using your simple mind to make money.

This layering of roles is going to get more tangled up when I tell you that the person playing the tolo playing the pirate is not male. You may have suspected something when I was describing the pirate’s odd voice. Yes, it was the voice of a female impersonating a male. Not only does she do it in the guise of a pirate; in order to persuade some picheleiros that under the costume was a local simpleton, she also goes out and about as a simple man. 

Two disguises are necessary so the woman can carry out her work. Or perhaps there are three. When one belongs to the Graystockings, one often wears a variety of skins and sequins, maybe shadows. This is really getting complicated. We may never find where this thread is going.

Author’s Note:

For those who have not read the pair of stories pertaining to the Graystockings, a brief summary may be helpful.

The Graystockings, whose name was modeled after the Bluestockings of another country, are a group of women who are charged with protecting and developing what they call by the simple name of Our Library, A Nosa Biblioteca. They are based in Galicia, but they have maintained contact with other women, and many of these women are from English-speaking cultures.

Hence the woman who is neither a pirate nor a tolo and isn’t even male is a Graystocking. As such, she is a member of an ‘underground’ troupe that performs a range of roles and does so perfectly. ‘Mad Pirate Man’ is one character. Another is the ‘Academic Lecturer on Rosalía’. Another is Sor Xosefa, one of the nuns at the ticket desk for the religious museum of San Paio. We don’t need to list all of the roles the group’s members have played and will continue to play, plus some are not meant to be revealed to anybody. 

Some members of the group serve the goals of the Grays but do not do so through playing a role that is not theirs. These women do nothing more fulfill the obligations of their daily employment and their personal obligations. Such is the case of Pilar the Librarian. She really is the director of the Biblioteca Xeral, but in that role she collaborates with the activists and meets with them clandestinely.The other Pilar, the one who is a good friend of Lavinia’s, is a bit more puzzling. She seems to live in two worlds - the world of the stage and the world of real life. We will need to talk about her in greater detail some time.

This all leads back to the title of this story and what ‘gold’ means. Or what ‘treasure’ means. First of all, the crazy pirate accepted alms, a few coins that did add up over the weeks of the year. (He does try not to stay always in Santiago, because there are a few other areas in Galicia that appreciate seeing him.) That money certainly can be put to good use for A Nosa Biblioteca, which I’m trusting you not to talk about after learning of its existence here. That is the Graystockings’ responsibility.

However, it’s also possible that Pirate Man is simply asking about the location of the treasure and who has it. The treasure may refer at all to gold coins and precious gems at all, but to the type of wealth that flows through writings, art, skilled handicrafts. Look again:

Onde vai o tesouro? Onde vai? Quen o ten? 

[Where’s the treasure? Where is it? Who’s got it?]

Aren’t these questions really about where a certain very valuable library is, if it’s being kept safe, and who controls it?

Knowledge, ideas, skills, creativity. That’s one currency of great value. Too bad its value has been decreasing, in the opinion of the authorities.

Cold gold, bacteria-laden bills. That’s the other currency that is competing for recognition and, some say, is winning. Poor society.

Well, you are welcome to choose your treasure. Hopefully it is not your poison. I’m going with the one being proclaimed by a lovely Graystocking pirate who is not going to quit any of her roles until the treasure is located and safe. No, I know it won’t be going to the Church, but I also know the pirate is not a sinner. Not by a long shot.