Читать книгу Guabancex - Celia A Sorhaindo - Страница 9

[ 4 ] concrete seal, pantry stock, insure against calamity. But having enough or not enough saved, surely meant little then, after all none were saved from that almighty hurricane that reined in our poor island and had everyone drowning. After the hurricane, came the crazed lines for food... for any kind of fuel; came the tell-tail spoors of rats and roaches tracking rubbish; dank despair threading desperation through the dark. At night my grandmother floated in and out of light, nightmare-laden, sleep, waiting for the chain rattle of locked door; for the bark signalling predators had come for what little she had left. She prayed for enough strength and grace to give the strangers what they came to take. After the hurricane, she said sometimes it felt like man eat man survival, every woman for herself. Who had time, air, breath, breadth enough, to free dive deep and long enough, to understand then these heads heaped, backs breaking,