Grace Paley

This is about the women of that country Sometimes they spoke in slogans They said We patch the roads as we patch our sweetheart’s trousers The heart will stop but not the transport They said We have ensured production even near bomb craters Children let your voices sing higher than the explosions of the bombs They said We have important tasks to teach the children that the people are the collective masters to bear hardship to instill love in the family to guide the good health of the children (they must wear clothing according to climate) They said Once men beat their wives now they may not Once a poor family sold its daughter to a rich old man now the young may love one another They said Once we planted our rice any old way now we plant the young shoots in straight rows so the imperialist pilot can see how steady our hands are In the evening we walked along the shores of the Lake of the Restored Sword I said   is it true?   we are sisters? They said   Yes, we are of one family

I went out walking in the old neighborhood Look! more trees on the block forget-me-nots all around them ivy   lantana shining and geraniums in the window Twenty years ago it was believed that the roots of trees would insert themselves into gas lines then fall   poisoned   on houses and children or tap the city’s water pipes   starved for nitrogen   obstruct the sewers In those days in the afternoon I floated by ferry to Hoboken or Staten Island then pushed the babies in their carriages along the river wall   observing Manhattan See Manhattan I cried   New York! even at sunset it doesn’t shine but stands in fire   charcoal to the waist But this Sunday afternoon on Mother’s Day I walked west   and came to Hudson Street   tricolored flags were flying over old oak furniture for sale brass bedsteads   copper pots and vases by the pound from India Suddenly before my eyes   twenty-two transvestites in joyous parade stuffed pillows under their lovely gowns and entered a restaurant under a sign which said   All Pregnant Mothers Free I watched them place napkins over their bellies and accept coffee and zabaglione I am especially open to sadness and hilarity since my father died as a child one week ago in this his ninetieth year

If you have a house you must think about it all the time as you reside in the house so it must be a home in your mind you must ask yourself (wherever you are) have I closed the front door and the back door is often forgotten not against thieves necessarily but the wind   oh   if it blows either door open   then the heat the heat you’ve carefully nurtured with layers of dry hardwood and a couple of opposing green brought in to slow the fire as well as the little pilot light in the convenient gas backup all of that care will be mocked because you have not kept the house on your mind but these may actually be among the smallest concerns   for instance the house could be settling   you may notice the thin slanting line of light above the doors   you have to think about that luckily you have been paying attention the house’s dryness can be humidified with vaporizers in each room and pots of water on the woodstove   should you leave for the movies after dinner   ask yourself have I turned down the thermometer and moved all wood paper away from the stove the fiery result of excited distraction could be too horrible to describe now we should talk especially to Northerners of the freezing of the pipe   this can often be prevented by pumping water continuously through the baseboard heating system allowing the faucet to drip drip continuously day and night   you must think about the drains separately   in fact you should have established their essential contribution to the ordinary kitchen and toilet life of the house digging these drains deep into warm earth if it hasn’t snowed by mid-December you must cover them with hay   sometimes rugs and blankets have been used   do not be troubled by their monetary value as this is a regionally appreciated emergency you may tell your friends to consider your house as their own   that is if they do not wear outdoor shoes when thumping across the gleam of their poly- urethaned floors they must bring socks or slippers to your house as well   you must think of your house when you’re in it and when you’re visiting the superior cabinets and closets of others   when you approach your house in the late afternoon in any weather   green or white   you will catch sight first of its new aluminum snow-resistant roof and the reflections in the cracked windows its need in the last twenty-five years for paint which has created a lovely design in russet pink and brown   the colors of un- intentioned neglect   you must admire the way it does not (because of someone’s excellent decision sixty years ago) stand on the high ridge deforming the green profile of the hill but rests in the modesty of late middle age under the brow of the hill with its back to the dark hemlock forest looking steadily out for miles toward the cloud refiguring meadows and mountains of the next state   coming up the road by foot or auto the house can be addressed personally House!   in the excitement of work and travel to other people’s houses with their interesting improvements we thought of you often and spoke of your coziness in winter   your courage in wind and fire   your small airy rooms in humid summer   how you nestle in spring into the leaves and flowers of the hawthorn and the sage green leaves of the Russian olive tree   House!   you were not forgotten

In Jinotega women greeted us with thousands of flowers roses it was hard to tell the petals on our faces and arms falling then embraces and the Spanish language which is a little like a descent of petals pink and orange Suddenly out of the hallway our gathering place AMNLAE the Asociación de Mujeres women came running seat yourselves dear guests from the north we announce a play a dance a play the women their faces mountain river Indian European Spanish dark-haired women dance in gray-green fatigues they dance the Contra who circles the village waiting for the young teacher the health worker (these are the strategies) the farmer in the high village walks out into the morning toward the front which is a circle of terror they dance the work of women and men they dance the plowing of the fields they kneel to the harrowing with the machetes they dance the sowing of seed (which is always a dance) and the ripening of corn the flowers of grain they dance the harvest they raise their machetes for the harvest the machetes are high but no! out of the hallway in green and gray come those who dance the stealth of the Contra cruelly they dance the ambush the slaughter of the farmer they are the death dancers who found the schoolteacher they caught the boy who dancing brought seeds in his hat all the way from Matagalpa they dance the death of the mother the father the rape of the daughter they dance the child murdered the seeds spilled and trampled they dance sorrow sorrow they dance the search for the Contra and the defeat they dance a comic dance they make a joke of the puppetry of the Contra of Uncle Sam who is the handler of puppets they dance rage and revenge they place the dead child (the real sleeping baby) on two chairs which is the bier for the little actor they dance prayer bereavement sorrow they mourn Is there applause for such theater? Silence then come let us dance together now you know the usual dance of couples Spanish or North American let us dance in twos and threes let us make little circles let us dance as though at a festival or in peace- time together and alone whirling stamping our feet bowing to one another the children gather petals from the floor to throw at our knees we dance the children too banging into us into each other and one small boy dances alone pulling at our skirts wait he screams stop! he tugs at the strap of our camera Stop! stop dancing I’m Carlos take a picture of me No! Now! Right now! because soon Look! See Pepe! even tomorrow I could be dead like him the music catches its breath the music jumping in the guitar and phonograph holds still and waits no no we say Carlos not you we put our fingers on his little shoulder we touch his hair but one of us is afraid for god’s sake take his picture so we lift him up we photo- graph him we pass him from one to another we photograph him again and again with each of us crying or laughing with him in our arms we dance

1 What is sometimes called a tongue of flame or an arm extended burning is only the long red and orange branch of a green maple in early September   reaching into the greenest field out of the green woods   at the edge of which the birch trees appear a little tattered   tired of sustaining delicacy all through the hot summer   re- minding everyone (in our family) of a Russian song   a story by Chekhov   or my father 2 What is sometimes called a tongue of flame or an arm extended   burning is only the long red and orange branch of a green maple in early September   reaching into the greenest field out of the green woods   at the edge of which the birch trees appear a little tattered   tired of sustaining delicacy all through the hot summer   re- minding everyone (in our family) of a Russian song   a story by Chekhov or my father on his own lawn   standing beside his own wood in the United States of America   saying (in Russian) this birch is a lovely tree   but among the others somehow superficial