Green Dream

Dedication and acknowledgment.

To my wife Socorro for her support and thanks to Lake Park Critique Group for their collaboration, especially Dr. and author David Spielberg.

Contents:

I- The Myth of the Indian Evaristo  1 

II- Impossible Love  24 

III- Betrayal and Blackmail  46

IV  The Giant Tree  64

V - Eddy Environmentalist and Speaker  84

VI - Social Class Clash  .114

VII- Wildfire in the Amazon Rainforest  130

Chapter I

The myth of the Indian Evaristo

During the fifteen -minute school break, Eddy met with four of his classmates. Pedro, one boy, greeted his friend, Hi, Eddy, what’s up? How are you doing at the farm?

Eddy smiled. As always, it’s fun running behind the hens and ducks. Once in a while, my granddad takes me horseback riding and fishing in the river. At night, I hear great tales from him and his friends about the Indians, forest fires, and the indiscriminate felling of trees.

Pedro twisted his mouth. Who cares about that, Eddy? 

Eddy frowned, staring at him, but before he answered, Mary Villegas, the only girl in the group, interrupted, I heard the Indian’s ancestors’ spirits roam the forest. Mary belonged to one of the wealthiest families in the area, blonde, with green eyes, eleven or twelve years old, the same age as the boys. Beauty in the making. Other girls criticized her for playing with boys. Maybe one of them is already interested in her. Eddy looked at Mary, intrigued by her comment. The others didn’t pay much attention to these mystical legends.

Mary, I bet you believe the story of the Indian Evaristo talking to trees, Roberto said.

Yes, she does, Nicolás, Roberto’s twin brother, stated.

Mary, playing with her curly hair, gave her opinion, I just repeat what people talk about the Indians. I’ve heard of Evaristo’s stories too, but my parents label them as tales, she replied.

Eddy asked, Who’s this Evaristo you are talking about?

He’s an Indian tramp and a madman who walks around telling people he can talk to the trees and knows their language, Roberto answered.

Interesting, Eddy added. So, none of you care about the indiscriminate falling of trees, right?

I don’t know anything about it, Mary replied.

I don’t either, Replied Roberto.

Pedro looked straight at Eddy. Well, I tell you the same thing. I don’t care about that. Don’t you have another conversation theme?

Nicolas, smiling, said, Eddy, you should ask Evaristo. He may be able to talk to dead trees, too. Everyone laughed but Eddy.

The bell rang for the beginning of classes, so everyone walked to their classroom. Throughout the day, Eddy couldn’t forget the tramp Indian’s story. I’ll ask my grandfather about the Indian who talks to trees.

THAT NIGHT, AFTER HEARING his grandfather's chats, the boy had nightmares of Indian ghosts. In the morning, Eddy’s mother called out, Eddy! Breakfast! Hurry up, child, so you don’t get to school late.

Yes, Mom, coming. He left his beloved window, hurrying to wash, dress, and eat breakfast.

From his wheelchair, Eduardo, Eddy’s father, watched the early news. Look, Elisa. It’s terrible what they said. Deforestation is killing our rainforest.

Elisa nodded. They are killing the forest and our oxygen, too.

Eddy, who heard his parents' conversation, asked, What did you say about the oxygen, Mom?

Nothing, child. You won’t understand; move quickly and comb your hair. Grandad’s waiting for you.

Eddy heard outside the rumbling sound of his grandfather’s old truck.

Eduardo Méndez (Eddy), a slim, cheerful, lively boy with his mother’s dark hair and black eyes, loved everything related to the ranch, his birthplace. Because of the farm's isolation, Eddy lacked contact with other children besides his classmates. At twelve, supervised by his grandad, he rode a horse well, his major entertainment. Eddy acted younger than his years because of his innocence and isolation. Despite this, he possessed extraordinary intelligence. His parents, rural upper middle class, owned a ranch named Valle Grande in a beautiful valley of the Colombian Amazon region, fifteen kilometers from Arango’s village.

Come on, boy, hurry. I have much work waiting for me to do, the aged man grumpily exclaimed.

Eddy kissed his mother and ran to the vehicle. The truck bumped along a stony road to get to the school.

The older man looked at the boy, smiling. Eddy, I know you enjoy this trip more than your school because you love the bumping road and the truck jumping, right?

Oh yes, I like it.

Son, you should love the school; your future depends on that. Although it’s the only school in this region, it’s still pretty good.

Yes, Grandad, I know that. He thought. I don’t love school. I like staying on the farm and riding a horse better.

The older man stopped the vehicle at the school entrance. It was an older building with plenty of classrooms for elementary and high school classes, near the village and 14 miles from their Valle Grande Ranch.

Behave well, the elder warned.

Yes, Grandad, he said, rushing to meet with his classmates.

Eddy maintained good behavior as a student, excelling in most classes except mathematics, which gave him trouble. It seemed like a punishment for him solving arithmetic problems. His classmates, Pedro, Nicholas, and Roberto, were his contemporaries. They lived with the modernist mentality of sports and computers., things forbidden to Eddy. From a wealthy family, Pedro appeared more robust than the others, ever-smiling, with brown hair, and presumptuous. He was fond of sports, his usual subject of conversation. Nicolas and Roberto, twin brothers, mulattoes with green eyes and curly hair, from a middle-class family. Although they didn’t face discrimination because of their skin color, like most blacks and cholos (Indian descendants). The twin had only a few white friends. Racial differences didn’t seem to matter to Pedro and Eddy. The four of them have been together since earlier grades.

BY THE AFTERNOON, EDDY bored thought. I can’t wait to finish classes and get home to have fun on the farm.

At the end of the school day, slightly later than usual, his grandad arrived to pick up his grandson.

The farm kept me busy, but here I am. What did you learn today? The older man always recited excuses for being late.

I'm not good in math, Eddy responded, shaking his head. But I have no problems in other classes.

Well, dedicate more time to review for that class. Math is one of the most important. Your mother knows how to help you with that.  The older man paused. Let's make a deal. I'll take you to town if you study your math lessons during the week and do your homework well. On Sunday. I need to buy things for the farm, and then we’ll walk around.

For real, Grandad?

I promise, but remember, if you don’t study math, you’re not going.

Sure, I’ll do it, Grandad.

VALLE GRANDE Ranch harvested corn and tubers. They also bred pigs, poultry, and cattle, with a boundary of the Amazon Rainforest that faded in the distance. The hills surrounding the Valley and the river that crossed it framed a spectacular landscape with a pleasant tropical climate most of the year but with some colder winters.

At the ranch entrance, a pair of lush Laurel trees embellished the Mendez’s country mansion. The house had large windows and a big porch where peasants from the surrounding zone often gathered in the evenings to chat or play cards. To the porch’s right, an oversized garage housed an almost new Cadillac, which only operated when the family traveled to the capital. Two Ford pickup trucks, one of them worn, driven by Don Pascual, Eddy’s grandfather, and the other truck, not too old, always used by Elisa. The country mansion included five bedrooms, five baths, a lounge dining area, and a spacious kitchen. One room served as a library. Except for the kitchen, the entire home boasted varnished wood floors.

Outside, surrounding the residence, several leafy trees add even more beauty to the picturesque residence. Half a mile away sat two more houses. One for employees, blacks, mulattos, and cholos. In the other building, a married couple lived: Eloisa, the housekeeper, and Andrés, Don Pascual's right hand on estate affairs.

DON PASCUAL MENDEZ was the family patriarch of Spanish ancestry, as were most of the great landowners’ families of the region. Other wealthy settlers brought Portuguese and Italian roots. Don Pascual, past seventy, but as strong as an Oak tree; tall, with tough character, and accustomed to the agricultural tasks. He usually wore fieldwork clothes, a large felt hat, riding boots, and a long, sharp machete in his pod.

One night, the Mendez family chatted with farmers’ friends as usual.

Don Pascual, why don’t you tell us something about the mythical Tanos, the tribe who disappeared in a forest fire? one farmer asked.

The old man raised his eyebrows, saying, All of you know stories of the Tanos. The mystery continues. No one knows for sure what happened to the tribe because the firefighters found no remains of them. A legend says they escaped through a cavern located deep in the woods. Explorers and hunters couldn’t find any trace of such a cave.

I think we should talk about the timber companies. They are cutting down trees indiscriminately, eliminating commercial species like Cedars, Oaks, Pines, and others, Eduardo said, nearing his wheelchair to the group. Another consequence of this ecological disaster is the expelling of Indians from their territory. Stories abound of abuse to those communities by the logging industry.

Eduardo, Don Pascual’s son and Eddy’s father, is about fifty and gray-haired like his father. He suffered from a progressive bone and muscle disease that began after his first daughter, Sofia’s fifteen-birthday celebration. This illness left Eduardo an invalid. Elisa, Eddy’s mother, was not yet forty-five, of medium height, brunette, attractive, educated, and worldly-wise. She conducted herself, unlike a typical peasant woman. Eddy’s sister, Sofia, eleven years older than him, is a college graduate and a certified nurse, recently married, living in the capital.

LIFE ON THE MENDEZ’S farm ran without many luxuries in an old-fashioned way. Eddy’s other relatives lived in different parts of the country; uncles and cousins were not involved in his life much.

One day at lunchtime, Elisa commented, Eduardo, I think Eddy needs his computer. He might feel inferior to the town kids without one. Don’t you agree?

He twisted his mouth. No, Elisa, I think like my father. Eddy must stay away from those things that could contaminate his education. Elisa didn’t say another word.

I’d better shut my mouth. Stubborn men, they don’t understand computers are excellent tools for learning. 

The Mendez watched little television. They had only a pair of rotary dial phones. Elisa used a computer to help with accounting and funds. However, Don Pascual preferred to tally his finances in books, the old-fashioned way. No dogs prowled around, a rare thing on a farm, as the elder detested them. A bulldog bit him as a child.

Elisa thought differently about her child’s instruction because of her higher education. She studied accounting in Bogota, Colombia’s capital. Her parents believed that this career would be profitable for her future. She pleased them and earned a degree in accounting, but she kept studying and earned a degree in botany, her dream vocation after graduation. Elisa longed to teach at a university. On one of her school trips to the field, she met Eduardo, who shared her devotion to the outdoors. They fell in love and soon married. Elisa never convinced her husband to move into the city to take advantage of her knowledge. After his illness, she stopped trying.

AT BEDTIME, EDDY OFTEN fell asleep on Elisa's lap. She carried him to his room. The roosters' singing and announcing the new day interrupted Eddy’s dreams at dawn. Then, scratching his eyes, he ran to his favorite place in the room. The window through which the sun came slowly peeked at his round golden face above the horizon. Every morning, the restless boy enjoyed scanning the country landscape. His big eyes moved from side to side, enjoying the activity on the farm. Eddy liked to watch his grandad feed the fowl. He loved seeing the hens and roosters fight for food even more. Eddy also adored watching the forest from in the distance. The wood always fascinated him because he remembered the tales of his grandfather. He dreamed of visiting it one day when he was older.

DURING THE FOLLOWING days, Eddy spends part of his spare time studying math. He wanted the trip to town. He had visited it only twice with his mother to attend mass.

The longed-for day arrived. Eddy rose early and hurried. His grandad waited for him.

Calm down, please, and put on your sweater. It’s cold outside, Elisa said. Behave and obey your grandad.

Yes, Mom. He runs to the truck.

When they passed by the school, Eddy thought. It’s great! I don’t have to get off here. Knowing new places in Arango meant an adventure to me.

They arrived at the picturesque rural community on a beautiful morning. Eddy looked around, taking in everything. The town was framed with features of a country village, eclectic buildings, some modest dwellings, and others elegant. Most affluent families owned large cattle ranches. They lived in the wealthiest section. These ranchers visited their farms just to monitor their businesses. They had employees responsible. The town was quiet, where a few vehicles, primarily cattle trucks, appeared occasionally on the main street. Don Pascual pointed out the deserted train station as they passed by.

Eddy, that’s the station. It’s empty until a train arrives, then it gets crowded.

Don Pascual slowed and parked the truck at a large building, an old store where farmers bought whatever they needed to maintain their ranches.

Why do you stop here, Grandad?

I need to buy things for the house and the farm. After that, we’ll go to the church, and I’ll give you a tour of the village.

They entered the store, and a fat middle-aged man behind the counter greeted Don Pascual.

"Buenos días, Don Pascual. Great pleasure seeing you!"

"Buenos días, Sebastian, how’s the business going?"

Oh, it’s not so good; the farmers in this area no longer grow as much. So, I don’t sell seeds and fertilizers as I used to, Sebastian stated, Livestock’s growing. You know the continued rainforest deforestation opens new pastures. I need to change the merchandise and increase supplies for cattle ranches. I can’t handle the demand. But don’t worry. I’ll always stack enough supplies for friends like you.

Don’t worry, Sebastian. God helps folks like you.

The merchant smiled. Thanks, Don Pascual. Who’s the child?

My grandson, Eddy. I want to show him the town. His mother brought him to church a couple of times. It’s good for him to get to know his father’s and grandfather’s hometown.

While Eddy listened to their conversation, he glanced around the store. Everything excited him. Several horse saddles with a new leather smell rested on a wooden bench. Propped up against the wall leaned three plows and other farming pieces.

Here’s a list of what I need. See you later, the old man said

Sure, everything will be ready for you,

Come on, Eddy. Mass starts soon.

But, Grandad. You promised me a walk around town, the boy replied, frowning.

Yes, but after mass, be patient.

The child and the older man left the store and made their way to the church, just a few blocks away. Everyone they met on their way greeted Don Pascual.

Grandad, everybody knows you!

The Mendez family, Catholic like most in that region, didn’t attend mass frequently.

Eddy, Arango is a small town. We all know each other. Lots of older people like me. Their parents and grandparents lived and died in this place, too. They put down roots here as those trees in the park. We are a big family.

They continued along the main Avenue, a two-way street, and passed through a park to get to church. The park has ornamental plants, flowers, and old leafy trees. In their shades, several parishioners chatted in front before entering the church. It was an area ideal for resting and relaxing. They arrived at the center of the park. The older man and the child stopped to make way for a group of boys who made fun of a homeless man sitting on a tree root.

Evaristo, crazy Indian, crazy Indian! They shouted at the unhappy man.

Grandad, is that man a crazy Indian?

Don Pascual looked at Evaristo with compassion. The story of that Indian is sad. Is he crazy? I'm not sure, but Evaristo sleeps wherever night comes and eats what families from the village give him. Although they offered him shelter, he stayed out. The old Indian says enemies surround him. He also says he understands the tree language and believes they are his friends. He creates stories about gigantic trees in the forest, which warn him to seek refuge when a storm nears. Signs of madness, right?  You can imagine that perhaps something clouds his head. And true; he’s an Indian from the Tanos’ tribe.

Then why doesn’t he live with the Indians? Eddy asked.

"The firefighters found a child, Evaristo, gravely injured with burns on his body and almost choked by the smoke from a forest fire. Many people from his tribe died in the fire, including his parents. A timber company caused the fire, but they titled it accidental. Everybody else believes they set it. Evaristo said he heard from his father that timber companies forced other tribes to move south, deeper into the jungle. The Tanos’s chief didn’t want to drive his people away from the river where their hunting land would be more difficult.

The town priest cared for the Indian boy and educated him. In a short time, Evaristo spoke Spanish fluently. The priest named him Evaristo because he refused to tell his Indian name. He lived in the Church and converted to Catholicism but never became a deacon. He felt discriminated against because of his race. One day, he left the House of God and chose the homeless life."

Homeless, wow! That’s weird! Eddy exclaimed, opening his eyes wide. I like the Indian’s story.

Don Pascual continued, Evaristo grew into a strong young man. Farmers hired him to help in their fields. Now older, he rarely leaves the village except during spring when the rains come. Then he walks several miles to the rainforest, saying he goes there to celebrate with his friends, the trees in the jungle. The church bells rang, calling the faithful to mass. Well, Eddy, we need to leave the poor man alone. It’s mass time.

The child looked at the bell tower for a moment. I remember the comment I heard at school about the Indian who says he could speak to trees. I wonder if it could be true. Eddy turned to see the strange character again. He was still sitting on the tree root as if he didn't care about what happened around him. The elder and the child continued walking toward the church. Eddy kept glancing back. This encounter with the beggar impressed me a lot. The fantastic story told by my grandfather is so overwhelming. They entered the religious grounds. The church was built in colonial style, with high walls and a spacious interior. Soon, the spiritual room filled.

Eddy couldn’t be quiet, looking around. I don’t enjoy sitting through a long service. The few times I came with Mom, I felt uncomfortable, and this time too. His thoughts went back to the meeting with the Indian Evaristo.

Eddy's eyes sweep the whole church interior. Sitting close to his grandfather, he was aware of every detail around him. The boy followed the movements of the priest and his assistants. He watched people kneeling to pray and others receiving communion. Eddy wanted to ask something, but with an authoritative gesture, his grandfather commanded him to be silent.

After the spiritual gathering, Don Pascual greeted friends not seen in a long time. Among them, an elegant lady approached him.

"Buenos días, Don Pascual, greeted the lady. How are you doing? You don’t come to town often. I’m glad to see you."

"Buenos días, Elvira. It’s true, I come little. The chores on the farm take all my time. How are you and your family?"

Fine, Don Pascual, she added, You should move to the village. That child needs to interact with other children his age and become familiar with the progress of modern society. Oh! Before I forget, remember, the bid we made for your land remains active.

Don Pascual made a face and, staring at her, said, "Thank you, Elvira, but my grandson will grow up on the farm like his father.