Yeny and the Children for Peace (6 page)

When Joaquin glared at her, she gave him a hand-made notice with the time and place of the carnival. “We're having a real deejay,” she said. “Invite every kid you know.”

He ignored her after that. If anyone else had ignored her, she would have been hurt, but every time Joaquin did it, Yeny's heart skipped with joy. She wondered what had changed between
them. But she didn't spend too much time wondering. She was too busy knocking on doors, interrupting soccer games between boys on the street, and chasing after children she didn't know to tell them about the carnival. Juan teased her that she should win an award for being the Peace Carnival's best promoter.

By the end of the week, Yeny could lead Juan the whole way to school without getting lost. She just remembered to turn left at the big church on the corner where she had talked to the buñuelo seller, right at the bustling
mercado
where her father helped with the fruit, and then they were on the wide avenue with the red tile sidewalk. From there, the school was easy to find.

Pretty soon almost everyone she talked to had heard about the Peace Carnival, but no one minded Yeny introducing herself anyway. She met so many kids that week that on Friday morning it seemed that everyone in the schoolyard smiled and said, Hola! when she arrived.

“Hey, Yeny,” Rocio called from her window that afternoon. “We're making
tamales
for the carnival. Want to come over and help?”

Yeny loved tamales. The little corn dumplings were a special treat because they took a long time to make. She'd never helped make them before. “I'll be right over,” she said, and hurried inside her house to drop off her school bag. “I'll be at the
neighbor's,” she called to her mother as she flew out the door again.

For a moment she felt guilty about leaving Juan behind, but she had to make her own friends sometime. Besides, he left her when he went to play soccer with his friends. And she didn't think Juan would be interested in cooking anyway.

“Hola, Yeny!” Rocio's mother answered her knock, drying her hands on a green apron. “Come in. The corn's ready. You can help us grind it.”

Loud salsa music was playing on the radio, and Rocio and her older sister were dancing around the little kitchen with ears of corn in their hands. “You're just in time,” Rocio said. “Grinding the corn is my favorite part.” She handed Yeny an ear of corn and twirled across the kitchen to a small grinder on the wooden table. “Just stick the corn in here, and turn the handle. It'll mash up the kernels.”

She showed Yeny how, and while they were grinding Rocio explained the whole process. Next they'd mix the mashed corn with a few other ingredients, like tomatoes, to give it more flavor. Then they'd put a spoonful of the mixture onto a big, wet, green plantain leaf, flatten it a bit, and add a small spoonful of the pork filling from the big pot on the stove. On top of that, they'd put more of the corn mixture. “The hardest part is when you have to tie it up in the leaf,” Rocio said, “loose enough so the filling
doesn't squeeze out when you knot the string, and tight enough for everything to stay together when it's boiling.”

Yeny nodded, but her mind was already hours ahead in the wonderful moment when they would open up one of the steaming leaf packages and scoop out the rich filling with a spoon. She could almost taste the corn boiled in the juices of the meat.

But first they had to finish the grinding. She took hold of the little handle and turned it. “It's like making chocolate,” she said, thinking back to afternoons at María Cristina's house after cacao harvest.

“You know how to make chocolate?” Rocio asked, eyes wide. Rocio's mother, who had been dipping the big plantain leaves in boiling water, stopped and turned to Yeny.

“We did it every year in the village,” Yeny said. “Many families, like my friend María Cristina's, had cacao trees. They sold most of the beans to big companies that made chocolate out of them. But there were always some beans left over, and after every harvest we used to roast them, and grind them up with a grinder like this one. Then we added sugar, ground the mixture again, made little chocolates, and let them harden.” Yeny sighed, remembering. “Sometimes we popped the chocolates right into our mouths. But most we saved for making hot drinks.”

Rocio looked amazed.

Kids here certainly missed a lot by living in the city, Yeny thought, but she kept quiet because she didn't want to offend her new friend. “If we get some cacao beans sometime, I can show you how.”

“Yay!” Rocio shouted. “I
love
chocolate.”

“I love tamales,” said Yeny.

“Don't worry,” said Rocio's mother, laughing. “We're making so many, I'm sure we'll have enough for you to take home and enjoy with your family.”

Yeny grinned as she turned the handle on the grinder. That was just the kind of thing María Cristina's mother used to say.

On Saturday afternoon, Yeny put on her jeans and her green top with the rainbow on it. When she lived in the village these had been her “city clothes,” the nicest and newest-looking things she had. It seemed funny that, now that she lived in the city, she spent most of her time in her school uniform.

Today would be different, though. Today was the carnival, and she would dress in her best. What a relief that her parents didn't worry about her so much anymore. Papá had told Mamá wonderful things about the planning meeting that he had watched. And both of them told her how happy they were that she was making friends.

Yeny smoothed her top over her tummy, and wandered over
to the kitchen. Her mother was sitting alone at the table, patching a hole in a pair of trousers. Elena and Carlitos were outside in the tiny patch of grass behind the house. Neither of them was interested in the Peace Carnival. Carlitos was too little and Elena too boring. Their aunt and cousins had gone to visit a neighbor before heading to the radio station again. They'd found out at the last minute that there was time available on the program that day, and of course they would never give up a chance to talk to Juan's father, no matter how many Peace Carnivals were going on. Yeny didn't mind going to the carnival alone. Already she knew many of the people who would be there. It was going to be the very best day she'd had since before leaving the village.

“Oooh. Fancy!” Mamá said, looking up from her sewing and admiring Yeny's outfit. “What's the occasion?”

“The Peace Carnival, of course,” said Yeny.

Her mother's needle and thread stopped midair, and she looked at Yeny. “I thought your father and I made it clear that we don't want you to go to the carnival.”

Her words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over Yeny's head. “But Papá came to the meeting with me last week, and he said everything looked fine!”

“Oh, honey.” She put aside her sewing and got up to give Yeny a hug. “Your father didn't mind you going to the smaller meetings, but you know big meetings like the Peace Carnival
can be dangerous. We don't want anything to happen to you.” She tried to pull Yeny close, but Yeny broke away.

“But I've been helping organize the carnival all week!”

Her mother looked upset and sad, but Yeny didn't care. Her parents were always making decisions that turned everything upside down, and she was sick of it.

“I'm finally making new friends in this stupid city, and now you're ruining everything. What will people think if I told them to come to a party that I'm not allowed to go to myself? You never think about what's important to me.”

Her mother looked as though Yeny had punched her in the stomach. “I know it's hard for you, Yeny, and I know you didn't want to come to the city, but your father and I want you to be safe. You never know what—”

Yeny felt like running, but here in this little house in the city, there was no escape. She couldn't even go next door to Rocio's, because Rocio would be on her way to the carnival. Rocio's parents understood that peace wasn't going to happen if you sat around waiting.

“I hate this,” Yeny said, stomping off to her bed behind the curtain. “I hate the city. I hate the grupos armados. I hate everyone!”

On Monday morning, before school started, everyone was talking about the carnival—white balloons for peace, white streamers, jugglers, clowns, music, hot potato empanadas, crispy cheese arepas, pork tamales, and hundreds of kids. Yeny had heard the boom-boom of the
cumbia
music from her house on Saturday night, and it had only made her madder that she couldn't go.

“You should have seen the face-painters,” Rocio said. She and her friends had joined Yeny, Juan, and his buddies around the front door of the school.

“You should have seen my mother's face when I got home,” said David. “I looked exactly like a sunflower. She almost didn't recognize me.”

“You wouldn't believe the number of people,” Beto said. “Even Joaquin showed up.”

Yeny couldn't believe her ears. Joaquin at a Peace Carnival? The thought almost made her laugh. If bullies like him showed up on Saturday, then absolutely anything was possible.

“But where were you, Juan?” Beto asked, chewing on his fingernail. “I didn't see you there.”

“I was talking to my dad,” said Juan, and the others nodded.

“Did you go to the radio station too?” David asked Yeny, and her cheeks flashed hot. She almost lied and said yes. But both Juan and Rocio knew the truth, and the last thing she needed right now was to be known as a liar. “Well, I . . . uh . . .”

Beto looked confused. “You spent the whole week telling everyone about the Peace Carnival and how important it was, and you didn't bother to go?”

“I wasn't allowed,” she mumbled.

“What?” David asked, laughing. “Do your parents have something against peace? Oh, you should have been there. Clowns, and jugglers, and dancing, and my favorite foods . . .”

Yeny wished they'd be quiet. In fact, she was about to go and wait by herself for the school bell when Beto said, “So I guess you two haven't heard the exciting news, then.”

She and Juan shook their heads.

Rocio put her hand to her mouth. “I can't believe I forgot,” she said. “I was so excited about the carnival that I forgot to tell you the plans for October 25.”

“It's gonna be great,” said David. “More clowns and jugglers and empanadas, and dancing again too. Celia said thousands of kids across the country are going to take part.”

Yeny perked up. This sounded much bigger than Saturday's carnival, and it was only two weeks away. Maybe if these carnivals kept happening, her father would eventually let her go. He'd see that it was only a bunch of kids having fun together, and maybe she could invite Elena, Rosa, and Sylvia along too.

“We're meeting on the field again this afternoon,” said David.

“I'll be there,” said Yeny, “no matter what.”

No one in Yeny's family had to know about today's meeting, she decided. Aunt Nelly and Papá were out working that afternoon, and her mother planned to visit someone. As long as she and Juan were home before their sisters returned from school, they wouldn't have to explain a thing.

A whole group of them hurried toward the meeting after school. Along the wide avenue and several smaller streets, they met with other children headed in the same direction. When they reached the café where Yeny's father had waited the week
before, Yeny scanned the tables for him, just in case. A few men sat drinking coffee, and the same dog sat off to one side, one ear up and one ear down, but her father wasn't there. She was happy that he had found a regular job—for more than one reason.

Kids were starting to gather on the grassy field. Some white balloons were left over from the carnival a few nights before, and Yeny tried to imagine this entire area filled with dancing, laughing children. For a moment she forgot her problem with her parents, and she was just plain happy that the carnival had been a success. No matter what, she was going to be at the next one, and she'd see for herself how much fun it could be.

By the time Yeny and her friends stepped onto the field, kids were pouring in from everywhere. Some boys were kicking a soccer ball. A few girls came holding hands, singing, and other kids chased each other. Then, in the distance, Yeny was amazed to see Rosa, Sylvia, and Elena slipping into the crowd. This meeting certainly
was
going to be big news.

Maybe if they
all
wanted to go to the carnival, her parents would come to their senses and see that it wasn't dangerous. Yeny felt more excited than she had since Saturday afternoon.

Just past the balloons, a few adults stood around. They were dressed in good clothes, like they might work in offices, and they looked serious as they talked to each other. Yeny frowned, wondering if they'd come to break up the meeting. But then
Celia set up her fruit crate right next to them, and the grown-ups smiled at her. Celia saw Yeny and waved.

“I'm so glad you could come,” Celia said. She introduced Yeny to the adults, who were from a church and a boys' and girls' club. “They offered to help us with our plans, if we need some adult help. Did you hear the news?”

“Another carnival, right?”

Celia shook her head. “It's something better than that.”

Yeny didn't understand. What could be better than a carnival?

“There's going to be a vote!” cried Beto, punching a fist in the air.

“What are you talking about, Beto?” Yeny asked. “Elections don't have anything to do with kids.”

“This one does,” Celia said, stepping up on the fruit crate. “And it's going to be huge. On October 25, kids across the country are going to vote. And we're going to have another big party, to celebrate.”

“Right on,” said Beto. “Kids can finally have a say!”