Rosa

Rosa

Rosa flopped down the track between the fields, her flat feet just
managing to carry her forward. At either side the blackened dead stalks
of maize were tall and gaunt like scarecrows. It was so hot and she was
so tired. Her heavy body was a great burden as she dragged herself
along. The air shimmered in the heat and perspiration ran in streams
down her body. Her clothing was wet with it and every strand of her
long black hair dripped.

She sat down heavily on a sandy bank and started to cry. It was all so
unfair.
She hadn't asked to be able only to do the most menial of tasks. She
lived on charity. She was like a stray dog in the village. Usually
someone took her in at night and fed her and gave her somewhere to
sleep. If not, she had to sleep in the street. This was no problem in
the summer time. She didn't want to think of winter. They were good to
her in the village. They were poor themselves with large families to
feed, but they usually found a little extra for her. The priests forced
them to take care of her. It was their 'duty'. She didn't know why. She
was grateful. She fell asleep.

Pain gripped her and she cried out. There was no one around to hear
her. Daylight was fading now and most farmers were in their homes
contemplating a rich stew cooking, pouring generous wine out of pottery
jugs and throwing themselves into deep chairs in the last of the sun,
arms and legs spread wide.

Rosa had been born when her mother had arrived in the village in
labour. She had been taken to the local priest who had allowed her to
stay until the child was born. It was a difficult birth and the mother
had died. The infant had suffered greatly during the protracted birth
and no one looking at her thought that she would be all right. The puny
baby had an unusually shaped head with odd features. 'Probably Downe's
syndrome,' said the priest privately although he went on to his
congregation about 'gifts from God' and 'suffer the little children . .
.' . . the usual. He was glad to have a focus for his sermons for a few
weeks, a chance to build up even more guilt in his flock. He christened
the baby Rosa and passed her on quickly to the orphanage run by nuns in
the nearby town. Give him his due, he kept in touch with the child who
grew and learned from the nuns to be obedient and almost clean and very
little else. She knew only one prayer and the name of the village where
she was born. However, she was a smiling child, pleasant enough and
greatly enjoyed any tiny morsel of affection that rarely came her
way.

When she was sixteen, she was returned to the village of her birth. She
became a general drudge, called upon to help with any lowly tasks both
in the houses and the fields. That is how she found herself in a dusk
laden field, lying on the sack she had been sent to fill with maize
cobs left over from the harvest. It was a simple job and one she
usually enjoyed.

She was surprised to feel that she was wet and looked around to see if
anyone else had seen. Her childhood had been full of beatings for
wetting herself. But this was different. The pain came again, and again
she cried out.

Juan

Juan stopped his tractor and listened, his head to one side, red hair
standing up in tufts. He was called locally Juan Rojo to distinguish
him from the dozen other black-haired Juans.

He supposed it could have been an animal he heard, perhaps a dog
yelping. It had been difficult to make out over the noise of the
engine. It came again. No, no mistake, it was a human scream of pain.
Jumping down he ran across to the field and found Rosa obviously in
labour. No one had suspected that she was pregnant, although he wasn't
surprised. Since she had returned, he was sure that he wasn't the only
one who had taken advantage of her on a regular basis. The priest had
done his best to warn the men off by talking of the terrible sin it
would be to violate such innocence, but Juan had no truck with that.
His needs were great and his wife inflexible in her attitude to them.
Poor Rosa was grateful for any semblance of affection and eager to
please. Now she needed him and was clinging to his hand. Even in the
circumstances, he felt himself stirring.

'Rosita, Rosita, we'll get you help.'

He didn't know what his wife would make of the situation, but he
couldn't leave her there.

He swung her up, no easy task, and carried her to the tractor-trailer.
Luckily it was empty except for the tools he had been using. He pushed
them to one side and heaved Rosa into the space. She was still sobbing
and crying out in pain. With his knowledge of animals, he knew the
birth would be soon. The bumpy ride back to the farmhouse was agony for
Rosa, but once there, when Claudia had taken stock of the situation,
she was soon installed in a bed, and Juan was dispatched for the woman
who acted as midwife.

Juan had mixed feelings as he ran to the tractor again and tore out of
the gate towards the village. Could it be his child? Surely not. He did
not want an idiot child. He didn't have any children, as far as he
knew, although he had not been faithful to his wife. He was certainly
not prepared to acknowledge a child who was less than perfect. What a
pity Claudia had not borne him a son. She had always wanted a baby but
accepted her fate was to be childless. The midwife was at home and they
were soon on the way back to the farmhouse.

Claudia

Rosa was installed in the bed in the room that Claudia had intended
would be the nursery. When she had come to the farm as a young bride,
she imagined that a child would be born within the year, probably
followed by several more. It was a large farm, and she was proud that
Juan had chosen her. She knew he was disappointed in her when the
babies failed to materialise, and she felt so bad about it that she
managed to ignore his 'wanderings'. She felt she had let him down, and
now he had brought this woman to her in labour.

Claudia knew all about Rosa, although she didn't suspect that Juan had
been intimate with her. She was a charity case, one belonging to the
whole village, and Claudia had played her part in giving her old
clothes, and food, and work. She was not antagonistic towards her. Rosa
was merely a fact of life. She was curious however about the father of
Rosa's child. She knew the priest would be glad to know his identity
and she set about trying to find out for him.

Rosa was in no state to answer questions at that time. When Claudia saw
how far on in labour she was, she was so busy that she didn't give it
any more thought until the child was born. It was a boy. She wrapped
him up and looked at him. The shock of reddish hair was the first thing
she noticed. The second was that he looked all right, with no sign of
his mother's condition. It was something to be grateful for. She
considered the implications as she looked at the hair.

She knew now that Juan was the father. There were no other red heads in
the vicinity. Cold fury started to build in her. The child should have
been hers. What would happen now?

By the time that Juan came back with the midwife, Claudia had decided.
She would keep the baby. Rosa could stay too. After all she would be
able to feed the baby and do all the hard work about the place. Rosa
caught Juan looking at the baby with pride, his son. The child looked
normal. She was bitter that it was not her child that Juan was looking
at so proudly.

Claudia reasoned that when the child was weaned, Juan would just put
Rosa back in the village and everything would carry on as before,
except that she would have a son. Juan was the only problem. Juan was
not pleased. He couldn't understand why he had been made to feel that
he had done something wrong and must pay for it. Claudia knew that
before long he would start looking at Rosa again, and she would have to
do something to combat the pain in her heart. She decided that she
didn't need Juan any more. Claudia knew she and Rosa could run the farm
quite satisfactorily. It just was not worth the heartbreak to have Juan
there as well.

She started to make a 'special' wine for him. She put a 'good bottle'
on a high shelf and allowed him a small drink from that every evening.
She told him it was a tonic, and would help him to support his new
family.

The baby, called Pedrito, flourished. When he was one year old, Juan
died. It was some internal complaint apparently. By this time, Claudia
was very happy. Pedrito looked on her as his mother. Rosa was too busy
labouring on the farm to pay much attention. She got on Claudia's
nerves sometimes, but the work that she did made up for it most of the
time. Claudia even started allowing her to have a little drink from the
special bottle of wine occasionally. She looked forward to the time
when she and Pedrito would run the farm together.