A Joyful End

The red beads in her hair glistened in the morning light as the six-year-old put on the yellow sundress that had a white floral pattern subtly sewn into it. It was too big for her, so the spaghetti straps fell down her shoulders constantly, even when she tied the straps in knots. However, at least she had clothes to wear for the day. She knew some people in the sugar cane village who had nothing to wear. A few of her friends had to run around, play, and do chores without clothes on. The sun had just come up, and the morning was already warming to seventy-five degrees. By afternoon, she knew that it would be near one hundred degrees. She had to get moving if she was going to get her hard chores done before the sun became blistering hot.
“Elisa?” her mother called, just as she was turning to leave the only other room in her small little hut. She knew she was going to get in trouble if she did not arrive at her mother’s side immediately. She was the oldest child of the family, and the other four children were still quite small and did not have to do very many things. She ran into the other room, her feet all dusty from the dirt floors of the house.
“Yes, Mama. What do you need?” she asked, knowing full well that the call was just to make sure she was up and ready to work on preparing what little lunch they could afford to eat. Rice and beans was the staple of every village person in the Dominican Republic. It was also one of the cheapest meals. Mangos were in season as well. She would be responsible to go pick them off of the tree so they could have a little extra food for the day.
Her mother told her that she needed to get going on everything that she knew she had to do. For, the faster the chores were completed, the faster she could go find a few friends to play with. She was also instructed to take her four-year-old brother and three-year-old sister with her to help gather the mangos and to get them out of the house. She would carry the three-year-old through the muddy streets on the way to the mango tree. Hopefully, there would be enough mangos left on the tree to sneak a few extra on the way home to fill their hungry bellies.
“Adios, Mama,” called Elisa as she left with her brother and sister holding her hands. “We will see you later,” she yelled as she walked away from the house.
She was daydreaming as she walked down the dirt roads that were muddy for once because of the heavy rain the day before. Rows of house after house in all different colors, comprised of old scraps of metal and wood lined each road she turned down, until she reached the edge of the village where five huge, mango trees stood. Since it was so early, no other kids were there to climb up the branches and take up all the space. Elisa quickly scampered up one tree while her brother climbed up the other. They dropped the mangos as gently as possible so their sister could put them in one of the netted bags they had brought.
They were almost done getting the mangos when Elisa heard a terrible noise. She stopped moving and suddenly realized that it was the sound of the branch breaking underneath her weight. Maybe if she stood still, the branch would stay intact until she could jump to another branch that hung over head about a jump away. Just as she was about to jump, the branch snapped. She looked over just in time to see her brother jump out of his tree to grab their three-year-old sister so that she would not be injured by the branch. Elisa hit the ground at what seemed to be the fastest speed she had ever gone. At the same instant she hit the ground, she heard another sound, except this time it was not the tree but her arm that cracked.
She could feel her breath catch and by the look on her siblings’ faces, Elisa knew that she must have looked like she was hurt and in excruciating pain. She was. The tears flowed freely down her face, but she was silent. She had to get her siblings and the mangos back to her house before her mother got worried or upset. Elisa pushed herself off of the ground and made her way to the bag of mangos.
“Come on,” she told her brother and sister. “I will carry the bag of mangos so you two can hold hands and help each other on the way home.” She held her injured arm close to her body as she carefully made her way through the muddy streets, back through the colorful houses, and straight into her little, green house on the corner. She dropped the mangos on the table as her brother and sister stood silently nearby.
“It’s nice to have you back,” called her mother from the other room. She finished whatever she was doing to come in and see the looks on the three oldest of her five children. Two of them were completely scared and worried and one was pained severely. “What in the world is the problem?” she asked.
Elisa had to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill onto her cheeks again. “I fell out of a tree while we were picking mangos. My arm hurts really badly,” she replied. It was starting to get swollen up near her shoulder and she could not move her elbow either. Her little yellow sundress was hanging off one shoulder and her feet were caked with mud as well as scratches. Clearly, she had fallen, and she could not hide the fact that she was in severe pain.
She knew her mother was worried, because she had been released from working the rest of the day. That never happened unless something serious was going on. She knew, if she did not get help in the next few days, her arm would not grow right or even stop growing because it could not heal properly. The hot afternoon air made her sweat as she sat out underneath the tree right next to her house. Beneath the strands of red beads in her hair, little drops of sweat formed on her forehead and trickled down her face. Elisa’s arm continued to throb and tears streamed down her face as she thought about the people in the city who could actually afford to go to the hospital. She may have had a little yellow sundress and shiny red beads in her hair, but they barely had enough for food, let alone a hospital bill.
Just then, she heard the door slam in to door and she knew her father was home. He would not want to hear that she had gotten hurt, not because he did not want her to hurt, but because he would not have any money to help her. She decided to take a walk. If only she could find something cold to put anywhere on her arm, maybe that would make it feel a little bit better. She grabbed a mango from off of the porch where her mother had moved them.
As she walked, she used her unharmed arm to hold the mango as she bit into its soft, outer shell of skin until she could bite of whole pieces and spit out the outside. The pumpkin and fruity taste of the mango comforted her through the pain that seemed to distort her very being. It was the only thing that seemed normal that day. Mangos. They had been a staple food since she was even able to eat. As she relished in the thought of filling her stomach with something, she looked up to see yet another different thing in her village. Instead of the usual, rusty, old motorbikes that were rode down the roads of the Dominican Republic, there was a pristine, clean, white bus riding down the muddy street in front of her. Her heart caught in her throat. She did not want the sugar cane bosses to come visit the village again. It was always crazy when that happened.
Yet, there was something vaguely familiar about the sight of the bus in front of her. As it got closer, she shouted, “Kiko!” She ran as fast as she could while making sure to keep her injured arm as stable as possible. As soon as he stepped out of the bus, he wrapped her in his arms, an her tears began to flow freely again.
“What’s wrong, sweet Elisa?” he asked in a loving tone. She looked over to see a group of Americans in white and blue clothes step out of the other side of the bus. However, Kiko realized the swelling in her arm right away and turned her attention to it. “Honey, what happened to your arm? It’s all swollen and you won’t move it.”
Elisa explained how she had fallen out of the tree while picking mangos early that morning. She told him that her family had no money to buy food, let alone pay a hospital bill. The silent tears rolled down her face, mixed in with the beads of sweat that hid beneath her shiny red beads. Quickly and efficiently, Kiko escorted her to a little white tent that had been set up by the Americans. Most Americans could not speak Spanish, so Kiko was a translator for them. However, there was a young woman, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, there who could speak the language extremely well.
“Hola,” called the blue-eyed lady cheerfully. She held out her arms to welcome Elisa into them. Elisa stepped forward and allowed the American to embrace her. She then stepped back and said, “I fell out of a tree. My arm hurts so badly and my parents don’t have any money to take me to the hospital.” The young woman took one look at her arm and realized that it was swollen and misshapen enough to be broken. Without high tech innovations like an x-ray machine, she had to be very careful to assess the various injuries properly. However, this one case was very simple to figure out. Elisa’s arm had been broken in two places. Her humorous had been cleanly broken through and her elbow had suffered a fracture as well.
Kiko came over just that moment to check on Elisa. He knew she was never one who was taken to crying unless something was seriously wrong. The kind American told him what was wrong. His face became solemn, but he went straight to Elisa and set her on his lap. He told her about her broken arm once more, just so that she would understand what happened. Then, he said, “I’m going to hold you right here on my lap while our American friend fixes you up. It is going to hurt, but you have to sit very still, okay?”
“I understand,” Elisa said in a very calm, reserved voice. The blue-eyed American walked over to where she and Kiko were sitting. She had a brightly colored net that looked like a sort of plastic to Elisa. She also had some cloth in her hands as well. Elisa watched as she sat down on the other stool in the white tent. She shuddered as a wave of throbbing pain went through her arm again and tears spilled over her eyelids again. The American looked at her beautiful, hazel eyes and gently brushed a few tears away.
“Are you ready?” Kiko asked gently. She nodded her head “yes” as more tears slowly fell down her cheeks. The heat of the day had begun to fade and the cool hand of the American felt good as she tried to find the broken pieces of her fragile arm.
The beautiful American looked at her and said, “It’s okay to cry. This is going to hurt, but after, your bones will heal properly and you will be okay.” Elisa trusted her, because of her kind words and gentle ways in which she examined her arm. Then, suddenly, as she was pondering why the American was so nice, she felt a jarring pain in her arm as the nice woman set her arm. The pain was so sharp and the tears came so fast that she gasped and whimpered in Kiko’s arms. However, the cast was on in a few minutes and she was assured that after seven weeks, one of the Americans would come back to take it off.
“Gracias,” she said as the beautiful American gave her some medicine for pain. Now, she did not have to worry about her arm healing wrong, or her father being upset because of the cost. She could also go back home and be able start chores the next day. Kiko hugged her and gave her an entire grocery bag of rice, beans, tuna, cooking oil, coffee, and dried milk. This would make her families next few weeks a little easier, and if they used what little money that had wisely, they could save up a little more for each week to follow.
Elisa ran home, after saying goodbye to Kiko and the American, with the bag of food in one arm and the bright pink cast on the other. Her whole entire house was thankful and greatly encouraged by the free medical care and the free food. Her bright yellow sundress flowed in the breeze as she skipped back to wave at the bus as the Americans and Kiko left. The setting sun reflected off of her shiny red beads, intricately woven into her head, while her hazel eyes and bright smile told of the joy she had in her heart.