Читать книгу Treasures of the Heart - Carol W. Hazelwood - Страница 6

Traffic, on the drive into Mexico City, jammed the streets in a honking, bumping crush of metal. Thick fumes spewed into the air. It was worse than anything Beth had experienced in Los Angeles. Their car crept down Paseo de la Reforma into Chapultepec Park. The driver let Beth and Lucia out in front of a huge statue that Beth soon learned was, Tlaloc, the Aztec god of rain.

“We don’t have as much time as I’d like before we meet Marcos, but at least I can give you an overview.”

Lucia hurried forward, and Beth was hard pressed to keep up with the bustling woman. Where did she get her energy?

In the museum’s center a huge curtain of water cascaded from an opening in the ceiling onto a giant wheel perched on top of a single basalt column. Beth lingered, enjoying the refreshing spray, but Lucia surged onward.

“I don’t plan on becoming an archeologist,” Beth said as she hurried after her godmother.

Lucia smiled. “Of course not, but if you’re going to be out on a dig with me, you’ll need some background.” She gesticulated with her hands, and her polished fingernails glinted in the museum’s light. “I know, I know. My students tell me the same thing. I’m a slave driver, but you will see. I am right.”

It seemed to Beth that Lucia’s statement, “I am right,” left no room for argument. She followed Lucia and became immersed in a brief history of Mexico that left her spellbound. Why hadn’t her Spanish teachers told her more about Mexico’s history?

In the empty museum hall Lucia’s voice resonated with passion for her subject. “Mexico was called Anahuac: land between two waters. The capital was built in the middle of a lake. In the time of the Aztec, causeways led into the center of the town. Since then, it’s been filled in. During earthquakes, the sand fill results in terrible damage to that area.

“Look here.” Lucia motioned to a glass case that contained small figures. “These are from the Olmec period. They are of interest to me because they show how far-reaching their influence was on other cultures in the state of Guerrero. That’s where I go on digs. These are the type of thing you may see there.”

Beth stared at the small figures of clay with their enlarged baby-like faces. The seated figures captured the performance of different tasks. The faces had trapezoid toothless mouths, deformed skulls, chubby bodies, and large hairless heads. Some were made of white terra cotta, others pink clay, while some were made of greenish basalt.

“Kind of odd looking,” Beth said. “Eerie, too.”

“A general summary of archeology information for you to know is that the Olmecs existed about 1500 to 900 BC, then came the Mayans, followed by Teotihuacans, and then the Aztecs. Naturally, there are overlaps, but each group left behind specific evidence of their culture.

“The area we are going to visit this week was greatly influenced by the Olmecs, but the small pockets of western cultures also coexisted with the Aztecs.”

“Consuelo said her ancestors are from the preColumbian people. Is that true?”

Lucia raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “It’s possible. Some Indians refused to be assimilated by the Spaniards and kept their blood pure. After all, there were only 300,000 Spaniards that came to Mexico over a period of three centuries. The local Indians who merged with the Spaniards were called Mestizos. The children of the conquistadors were called Criollos. Through the years these groups’ political battles caused tremendous hardship for our people and our country. They were so busy fighting amongst themselves that foreign countries took advantage of the situation.”

“Like the Guadalupe Treaty that gave us Texas and California?”

Lucia smiled. “I see you had a discussion of this with Consuelo. Perhaps I should have warned you about Consuelo’s pride. Because of Mexico’s tragic history, she prefers to look to her Indian ancestry. I can’t say she’s wrong about this. She has a difficult family situation. Her ancestry gives her a feeling of security and pride.”

They continued the tour looking at figures and pottery from different eras. “So you go on these digs to find out more about the cultures of the past,” Beth said.

“Exactly.”

“How do you find them?”

“The artifacts? The local people bring them to us, and we buy them or trade something for them. That’s why it’s important to have small anthropological institutes scattered throughout the different states. By locating where the artifacts were found, we can discover new archeological sites. It’s very rewarding. The treasures of the past are the heart of a culture. The people learn about their land, history, and culture through these artifacts. I think of archeology as solving the puzzles of our past.”

For another hour they pushed on through the museum. Beth developed a new regard for the Mexican’s people desire to preserve their past. They had much to be proud of. When Lucia called a halt to the tour and lecture, Beth was quite willing to agree. Despite her interest, she was tired and hungry.

Back outside they waited on a bench. “Marcos is to pick us up and take us to his home, a most amazing place. I hope he hasn’t forgotten. That’s a bad habit of his.”

While they waited, and the sunlight faded, Lucia told Beth about the myth of the Aztec god, Quetzalcoatl.

“This god was sent by the supreme god to be the earth king. For a while he was a good ruler, but he fell victim to temptation with a goddess.”

“Like Adam and Eve?”

“Si.” But it was a mushroom instead of an apple. This mushroom was controlled by a witch goddess. The king fell under her spell, breaking a sacred tradition, and was forced to leave Mexico. He took his creatures with him. The symbol for this witch goddess was the Blue Hummingbird. It became the patron of the Aztecs. Even today some believe that hummingbirds are the spirit of departed Aztec warriors.”

“You’re joking. People don’t really believe in those fairytales.”

Lucia cocked her head. “There are many tales all steeped in the mythology of ancient cultures. We have quite an attachment to the Aztec culture, but there’s also other history here in Chapultepec Park.”

“I noticed the statue.”

“It’s in honor of the boy heroes who died fighting your General Scott, when he captured Mexico City in 1847. I—” A horn honked. “Aha.” Lucia smiled and waved toward a 1978 Volkswagen bus. “Our savior is here. Come meet my Doctor Doolittle.”

Beth climbed into the back of the aging van, while Lucia hopped into the front seat and gave the man a kiss on the cheek. Lucia introduced Marcos, who gave Beth a lopsided grin, then he turned his attention to the traffic that streamed through the Park. While Lucia and Marcos conversed in rapid Spanish, Beth studied this man, who was obviously close to Lucia’s heart. He wasn’t handsome, but his wide-set hazel eyes held a twinkle that offset a long face. Thin claw-like scars traced his arms, neck, and forehead.

After a time the van left the bumper to bumper traffic behind, entered a suburban area. After a short drive, he turned into a driveway in front of a bungalow set apart from other homes in the area. Even before they got out of the van, Beth could hear the sounds of animals and birds. Marcos ducked under a blossoming Mandevilla trumpet vine as he walked ahead of them to a front porch with low eaves. Entwined bushes and vines searched for equal space along the stucco walls of the house. Several cages on the shaded porch held reptiles of all sorts.

“You mustn’t be afraid of my animals, Beth,” the tall angular man said. “Lucia has grown accustomed to my zoo and can vouch for their behavior.”

Lucia rolled her eyes. “My appreciation of his lifestyle must be the result of some previous life. My friends believe I have a streak of insanity that allows me to put up with Marcos’s animal farm.”

“Not a farm. A scientific animal park,” he corrected her, then smiled. “Lucia has her passion and I have mine, but our hearts are big enough to include each other.”

Beth stared at the cages. “You don’t dissect animals, do you?”

“I’m a veterinarian, not a research scientist. I study the behavior of the animals but don’t operate unless there’s a need, an injury or an illness.”

Marcos studied Beth with a brooding gaze. “Have you had a bad experience with veterinarians? I assure you; I am not an ogre. Come inside. You’ll see.” He opened the front wooden door. Reluctantly Beth followed behind Lucia.

Semi-glazed brown terra-cotta tiles covered the floor, and large plants arched out of pots toward the ceiling. The chairs and sofa were made of wood and cowhide. A bookcase jammed with books and periodicals lined one wall. On the other side of the room a long table held several cages with different sorts of chattering mammals: squirrels, mice, rats, and rabbits. A tarantula was in a glass container that Marcos called a vivarium. Beth surveyed the scene without as much as a twitch until she spotted a huge boa constrictor hanging from one of the rafters. She recoiled but didn’t scream.

Marcos walked forward and stroked the boa under its small head. “Meet Gloria. She’s very tame.”

Beth gave him a halfhearted smile. They’d had snakes in the shop, but not one this size and not out of a cage. “You let her roam free?”

“She’s kept well fed, so she’s harmless.”

On a nearby perch, a parrot squawked and fluttered its wings. Marcos moved over to allow it to jump onto his shoulder. Once there, it nuzzled against his hair and nibbled at his ear. The bird cocked its head while Marcos spoke. “Papageno had his wings severely clipped and can never be returned to the wild.”

“How can you let the boa and parrot be around each other?”

“They know the rules of the house. Animals understand coexistence. Come, I’ll show you the backyard. Are you coming, Lucia?”

“I’ll relax in here and let you give Beth the full tour.”

Beth followed Marcos through the patio, past a gate, and into a fenced area. A scruffy mongrel ran forward, wagged its tail, and stuck its muzzle into Marcos’s outstretched hand. Papageno continued to sit on the man’s shoulder undisturbed by the dog. “This is Squintly, short for Izquintli. It means dog in Nahua, the language spoken by the Aztecs. One day he dropped by and decided this was his home. I haven’t told him it isn’t, and he hasn’t told me his real name either.”

Marcos continued to escort Beth through the grounds with Squintly at their heels. There were wildcats in large cages. Marcos pointed to other dogs caged in long runs. “Those are here for treatment, not for boarding.” One large cage held an ocelot that lounged on its side licking its soft padded paws. “Most of the animals in cages have been injured. When they’re ready, I release them back into the wild. I don’t have room to keep them permanently.”

“I don’t understand. You treat the animals well, but they’re in cages, and Lucia said you wanted to have a zoo. Zoos aren’t good places for animals. They should be free in their own habitat.”

“In a perfect world, yes.” Marcos said as he approached a large cage that held an owl. “Tecolote will be released soon, but first he must learn to hunt again.”

Marcos retraced his steps back toward the house. When they were in the living room, he offered Beth and Lucia lemonade. It was the first iced drink Beth had since her arrival in Mexico. After Papageno was returned to his perch, Marcos settled down on the couch next to Lucia. Beth sat across from them well away from Gloria, who had wrapped herself around the rafter directly above Lucia’s head.

“You pose an interesting question, Beth.” He leaned back with one large hand wrapped around his tall frosty glass, while the other clasped Lucia’s hand. “I don’t expect you to agree with me but I expect you to listen.”

He gazed steadily at Beth. “You’re right. Animals don’t belong in cages, except to keep them out of harm or when they’re injured or sick. However, as I said before, we don’t live in a perfect world. We are slowly destroying the habitat of certain animals. If we don’t want these animals to disappear from the earth, what must we do? A zoo is a possible answer, if it’s a proper place, not a holding tank. There’s been great progress in this area around the world.” He took a swallow of icy drink then glanced at Beth. “Research has been done on animals to benefit humans. True, animals have suffered needlessly under some very unethical people. This doesn’t mean that all research is bad. Does it?”

Beth remembered the animal rights meetings she’d gone to and squirmed in her chair. Who was right? The idea of research on defenseless animals angered her.

“There’s something else you must think about,” Marcos said. “How are we to learn about animals if we don’t observe them, study them? Sometimes it isn’t possible to do so in the wild. Research is done for their benefit as well as for the benefit of humans.”

Beth couldn’t let him off so easy. “Is it right to take an animal from the wild and put it in a cage?”

“Sometimes, yes, sometimes, no. Animal ethics is not black and white. Knowledge creates the proper role for humans. Lucia told me you worked in a pet store. Did that bother you?”

“No….yes. I mean at first I thought it was neat, but then…well… . We had a monkey in a cage. There was a rumor that it was going to be sold to a laboratory for experimental purposes. A friend of mine told me that the puppies we had for sale came from a puppy mill. You know, those places were they breed dogs without taking care of them.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing! Sam, the owner, was a sweet old man, who loved animals. He took good care of them.”

“Then what was the problem?”

“It…it was difficult, that’s all.” Beth shrugged and slumped deeper into her chair.

“You quit?”

“Not exactly.” Her eyes smarted. She’d locked away her secret. This man, in this crazy house full of animals, wasn’t going to get her to confess.

Marcos continued to question her in a smooth soft voice. “What did you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?”

“Because you care so much for animals.”

“I do.” Did her parents put Lucia up to this? Maybe they knew more than she thought they did. “Like you said, animal rights aren’t black and white.”

“I see,” Marcos said.

Beth felt he knew everything without her saying a word. A silence fell between them. Finally Lucia came to the rescue. “Sometimes caring too much makes us do things we might regret later. Whatever happened, Beth, it’s past. Life is about learning, and to learn we must make mistakes.”

Marcos cleared his throat. “I think it’s time for dinner. You have a long journey tomorrow and you’ll want to get on the road early.” He rose and walked to the kitchen, then stuck his head back in the living room. “Hey, muchachas, I don’t intend to do this all by myself.”

With that Lucia rose from the couch and motioned Beth to get up as well. “He’s a slave driver, too. Little did you know you’d have to deal with such bossy adults. Enjoy dinner tonight, for it’ll seem like paradise compared to our jungle camp fare.”