Song of the Shaman Read Online Free PDF Page A

Lindo, this is Don Pedro, the man you and your daughters have come to see.”
    Benjamin whispered something to Don Pedro. Don Pedro turned and studied the three visitors. He motioned for Maud to come forth, gesturing for her to sit in the empty hammock next to him. Holding tight to each other, Father and Maud walked deeper into the dark room. Don Pedro shook his head with rigor. He pointed at Maud. Charles, somewhat apprehensively, let go of his daughter’s arm. She inched over to Don Pedro and sat on the edge of the rough-hewn hammock. At that moment a butterfly descended on her lap; its yellow, blue, and black wings beat against her hand as she frantically waved it away. Don Pedro leaped from his hammock and followed the butterfly’s flight, staring for some time. He spoke with excitement in his native language, nodding after the beautiful insect.
    “Grandfather says the butterfly represents a deceased soul. He wants to know who in your family has died,” Benjamin said, interpreting his grandfather’s words. Maud shot a confused look at Charles.
    “My mother died when I was eight.” She twisted a ring on her finger and glanced back and forth between Don Pedro and Benjamin. Don Pedro spoke again, his broken Spanish rapid and emphatic.
    “The butterfly is a sign that her spirit is here.”
    Chickens darted into the room. Louise put her hand on her father’s rigid arm. How tense he was! Don Pedro continued asking Maud questions about Mother, whether her asthma started before or after her death. Though no one addressed him, Charles butt in.
    “I can’t see how my daughter’s mother’s passing has anything to do with her illness. Maud has been congested and short of breath for weeks. The wasted hospital stays. Useless physicians. Obviously what she needs is an alternative medicine—a more effective tonic or poultice!”
    Louise lowered her head. Must he embarrass her like this? Don Pedro went back to his hammock and fell silent for a long while. Benjamin brought stools over, inviting Louise and Charles to sit. He then stood next to his grandfather and waited. Maud wiped her nose repeatedly. Father grew restless. Just when Louise thought the awa had fallen asleep he jumped up, turned to Benjamin, and rattled off a list of words, counting on the fingers of one hand. Benjamin explained the plan to Charles.
    “Don Pedro needs certain plants, flowers, and roots for the curing ceremony. I’ll go out now to gather them.” He unhooked a coarse sack that hung from the ceiling and slung it over his arm. “You and your daughters can rest here until I return.”
    Louise blinked. She longed for a break from her father and sister.
    “Can I be of any help?” Louise’s question was for Benjamin, but she looked at her father instead. He seemed preoccupied, lost in a reverie.
    “You’re welcome to come if you like,” Benjamin said. He pulled a machete from the thatched walls. “What grandfather needs is on the grounds nearby.”
    Louise started to take her father’s hand but thought better of it.
    “May I go?”
    Charles pushed his hands into his pockets and looked past her absently. “You must be in plain sight.” He walked with them to the front of the dwelling. Benjamin pointed to an area ten meters away. Charles glanced back at Maud and Don Pedro.
    “Perhaps that will move things along more quickly,” he said, frowning at Benjamin’s machete. “Be sure to hurry.”
    Relieved, Louise went with Benjamin to the field, feeling her father’s eyes on her back. They came upon a charming ravine bordered by egg-shaped stones and lush shrubs.
    “My, how beautiful it is here! I wish I had brought my drawing pad.”
    His direct glance caught her off guard. She swept aside ringlets that drooped into her eyes.
    “You’re an artist.”
    It was more a statement than a question. An artist? Her ears burned. She didn’t consider herself one. Though she loved sketching and painting, her art was more of a hobby; none of it