We'll share more from Magdalena later.
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Magdalena Herreshoff 16/05/2012
Winds in the Willows
It all started with mother’s day, a fine lunch at the Hosteria Uzhupud turned into NO electricity, NO internet and too early to bed. My eyes and mind gave out; all of a sudden I felt old all over; I itched from mosquito bites and noseeums, who haunted me with welts on my ankles. I scratched them wildly never giving up, raw, and bleeding until he yelled: STOP!
It was the next day I called the Luz people to explain we could not do this again: Another night of no light. They sent out a crew after lunch. Two men on a loud motorcycle, the older one in front, the younger one on top of metal climbing equipment - I could imagine what his ass felt like flying over Uzhupud potholes - he stopped the rattling motorcycle right smack in front of me in the middle of the dirt road waiting, arms crossed.
“No luz” I threw up my arms. He gave me a torrent of words I did not understand, and asked “ ¿De dónde es usted?” “ Washington,” I said. When the machete hit sharply against the first willow branch, the older hombre had taken over, carefully saying “Washington”, “Washington” as he whacked his way up the tree doing his best to impress the gringa below; the younger hombre yelled “eso”, “si”, “no”, “si eso”.
It was all over for old willow limbs stroking silver wires into the wind, weeping the scents of mandarinas, black walnut, sweet jasmine and bamboo gone wild. The luz came on, however there was no luz for me, not until the 3 inch black moth, wings spread, lit into my house. He moved inch by inch along the wall, like a magician’s black cape never stuttering. My eyes, focused all night on his black wings,
made me nervous like the winds in the willows stroking something out there in
the dark night.
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