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Casa de Santa Cruz glowed with lights gay. The night was young and the fiesta was in full swing. They claim it was in honor of a saint. I say it was in boast of their wealth. Only the elite were allowed to step foot in the manor; the rondalla sending sweet music to those in the household, the scrumptious food being laid out on the table, and lords and ladies mingling in search of partners. Mestizos classed into the household while us indios flooded the lantern-lit streets. Inviting us indios was a mere show of "compassion" and "fellowship", and a very unnatural one at that. Whenever lords and ladies passed us, the ladies would scrunch their noses in disgust while lords simply acted unaware of our existence.
From the streets, the music did not reach our ears and only our noses enjoyed the scrumptious food, but the absence of music did not stop us from having a good time. A young boy started clapping a rhythm.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
The rest of us clapped along, sounding out a merry beat. The men picked out partners and lovers crowded in the middle while the clappers formed a circle around them, sustaining the beat. Partners jovially danced to the beat, men guiding their partners as the ladies swished their skirts gracefully. It was an unchoreographed dance but it was one filled with passion and carefree joy.
Aside from the glee from the fiesta, I felt wistfulness as I watched the couples dancing. An indio would both lucky and unlucky when it comes to finding love. An indio would be lucky because the relationship will be built solely on love unlike for those of an elite where relationships tie with social and political interest. On the other hand, an indio would be unlucky because love can only take you so far, especially with the poverty and oppression he is subjected to due to status.
Lost in my thoughts, I withdrew from the crowd. I backed towards a tree not far from the dancing indios. I climbed it and sat on a low branch, quietly watching the two parties of the fiesta. To my right stood the brightly lit Casa de Santa Cruz and to my left danced the merry indios. I felt content and at peace just watching the beauty of the fiesta. I was so relaxed that I almost did not notice the slender figure hurrying from the manor towards the dancing indios.
Curious, I quickly climbed down and followed the hurrying figure. I caught up to the figure whose back was turned from me. The figure obviously belonged to a woman, her hair up in a bun circled by small pearls, with her petite figure buried under a dress. It was quite a spectacle, a mestiza actually looking at indios.
Clap Clap. Clap. Clap Clap. Clap.
The beat changed into a merrier rhythm and the crowd danced in more frenzy. Couples jump-danced in the beat while children twirled and swayed to the rhythm. The woman seemed entranced by them all. I took slow steps until I was beside her. She was startled with the unexpected company so she involuntarily let out a yelp and jumped slightly, turning her head away from me and covering her face with a fan. I chuckled to myself and held out a hand.
"Will the lady care to join me in a dance?"
For a moment she was silent, then she turned her head to me, only her eyes peeking out from the fan. She stared at my offering hand for a moment, looking as if she were having an internal struggle. Then, she wordlessly put her dainty hand in mine giving a gentle nod. I smiled at her and put her other hand on my shoulder as I wrapped my arm around her tiny waist.
We were in the middle of two worlds, hearing both the music from the manor and the beat from the streets. As if on cue, the indios changed their beat.
Clap clap clap. Clap clap clap
It was a gentler rhythm matching the smooth rondalla music from the manor.
And then we danced.
She danced very softly, not taking the fan off her face. I twirled her around, momentarily catching a glimpse of her face before the fan returned to cover it. That teasing glimpse was frustratingly enticing, knowing she was beautiful but not knowing how much. As if sensing my frustration, I could almost see her smirk behind her fan as her eyes danced with teasing and mischief.
I twirled her once more, guiding her graceful twists and turns, attempting to see more of her face but she stubbornly and expertly evaded my attempts.
I enjoyed our little game of hide and seek. The dance: a quest of knowing her face. At one point she turned me around and tapped her closed fan on my shoulder, thinking she would show her face I quickly turned around...
But all I saw was her figure retreating towards the indio crowd. Excited for the chase, I hurried towards her. I weaved through the crowd until I spotted her, dancing among the crowd, a fan still covering her face. I danced my way to her, until I reached her. Impatient, I reached for her fan, causing her to drop it, but she was quick to grab her shawl and cover her face once more. She laughed when she saw my frustrated expression and she stepped closer to me.
And then we danced once more.
I with more ferocity and she with more teasing. We danced until I noticed that we were already at the edge of the crowd. She broke away from me, her eyes shining as they reflected the fiesta lights. She then turned away and ran back towards the manor while I stood there, shocked that she would just leave me. A gust of wind suddenly blew, making me shudder in the cold. Before she would disappear from my sight, she slightly faced me and let go of the shawl around her face. The wind carried the flimsy cloth to me and all after that night all I can remember is her face and our dance.
I looked at the shawl with her name embroidered at its corner:
Leonora
All an indio can do for a lady like her is reminisce and wait....
Hoping...
Dreaming...
Living...
And then we will dance once more, mi cariña.
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