Free The Disappearance of Irene Dos Santos by Margaret Mascarenhas Page B

mouth has dried up and so has his voice. The faces in the crowd, just moments
     ago alight with adoration, turn ugly. The shouts become vicious, enraged. Move out of the circle, they scream, charging toward
     him. His brow is bathed in sweat, his heart beating rapidly. He whispers his mother’s words to himself:
You know it is only a dream.
The vision ends. Shaking his head like a wet dog, he picks up his bag of wood and returns to the shack.
    “And now this, just in from the capital,” the announcer on the radio is saying. “As one of our country’s most venerated religious
     cult figures and national icons, Maria Lionza has inspired hope and granted wishes to devotees for over two centuries. But
     yesterday, hundreds of thousands of followers were shaken when the fifty-three-year-old statue of the mythical Indian princess
     cracked at the waist and fell backward, leaving her staring into the heavens. Fearful, thousands are flocking to Sorte to
     make offerings in the hope of appeasing the goddess....And now, stay tuned for another episode of
Los zapatos rojos,
courtesy of Passion Radio.”
    “We should do good business today,” says La Vieja Juanita, switching off the radio.
    On the bus to San Felipe, passengers are already buzzing with the news about the statue of Maria Lionza in the capital. Some
     believers say it is a sign that El Presidente and his socialist agenda have lost her approval. Others believe it is a clarion
     call for the spiritual renewal of all humanity. Or perhaps for repentance. They wonder whether a government plan to move the
     statue of the goddess from the Avenida Francisco Fajardo to the Plaza Bolívar has pissed off the goddess. “Con los santos,
     no se juega” is a common refrain. At one point a fiery dispute arises at the back of the bus between those who agree with
     the relocation and restoration plan as a symbol of fundamental change and those who oppose it. Those on opposite sides begin
     to roll up their sleeves, prepared to resolve the issue with their fists, if necessary.
    “Epa,” yells the bus driver, “why are you discussing as though you poor pendejos know what the gods are thinking and that
     you can influence the outcome?”
    Efraín and La Vieja Juanita board another bus in Chivacoa. The bus is much fuller than usual at this hour of the morning—indeed,
     it is packed almost beyond capacity and they have to stand, pressed against others, in the aisle. When they arrive in Sorte,
     crowds of people are already thronging the shops and stalls and pouring across the bridge to the mountain. Efraín hastens
     to Fernando’s shop to retrieve the pieces of cardboard and makeshift table that make up their own stall, while La Vieja Juanita
     waits with their bags, guarding their place from potential interlopers. When he finishes setting up the stall, Felipe Gonsales,
     a neighboring vendor who sells Maria Lionza rosaries and scapulars, walks over.
    “Oye, Vieja, have you heard the latest?” he says.
    “You mean about the statue? Who hasn’t heard?” says La Vieja Juanita, pointing with her chin toward the crowds.
    “No,” says Felipe, “I mean about the boy.”
    “What boy?”
    “Early this morning a boy is supposed to have emerged from the Lady’s shrine right into the sacred circle of a ceremony dedicated
     to her. Quite a few people saw him. At first they thought he was just some brat fooling around, and they were angry that he
     had disrupted the ceremony. Some people are claiming that when they tried to grab him, their arms went right through him.
     Then the boy vanished into thin air. Now they are saying it is the boy in the legend, El Niño, the messenger of Maria Lionza.
     Hundreds are already on their way to Sorte to post a vigil in the hope that he will appear again. But the Bancos are saying
     that the next time he appears, it will be to El Presidente himself.”
    Efraín stares at Felipe as though he has seen a spirit while La Vieja Juanita snorts.