Milo's Journey

Chapter 21

Jose leaned into Diego’s side. Diego automatically put his arm around him. It wasn’t even a consideration.

Diego had been a presence in Jose’s life almost as long as Milo. When Jose came out, Diego was the second person he told. Jose had been afraid then—afraid his friend would turn his back on him, that he wouldn’t understand the fear that came with the words Jose was struggling to say.

But Diego had only put his arm around him and told him he loved him. That he was his friend. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

As the car continued up the mountain road, Jose let himself rest. He tried his best to set aside the anxiety—the sense that he was moving toward something he needed to find before it slipped away.

His thoughts went to Milo, and he wondered how he was doing with Adriana. This was the first time they had been apart since they decided to be a couple. Even though the relationship was new in many ways, it felt very old—as if they had always been.

The car broke through the trees, and the Museo El Cemí loomed ahead—a building that defied explanation.

Without understanding why, Jose was able to interpret its shape. It was a structure in three parts. He instinctively knew the front represented the land of the dead, the central tower the holy mountain of heaven, and the back the land of the living.

Aurora parked the car in front of the museum entrance. She looked back at Jose and Diego.

“Mijo, I will be here when you are done.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Jose said, smiling as he got out of the car.

Grabbing Diego’s arm, Jose pulled him through the doors of the Museo. He relaxed immediately as he stepped into the large hall of the museum. Even the air seemed to hold answers.

Adriana took a sip of herbal tea as she looked out from the porch, appreciating how the sunlight played across the trees. Milo sat quietly at her side, waiting.

Milo continued to wait. He knew Adriana was working something out in her head, and he resisted the urge to help. This had to come from her, when she was ready.

“Milo, how do you do it?” Adriana spoke softly, looking over at him, empathy in her eyes.

“Do what?” Milo asked. He had an idea of what Adriana was getting at, but he knew she needed to voice it before he could help.

“My gypsy is my principal guide, and she is very powerful and very opinionated. How do you keep from getting overwhelmed and overshadowed? Your relationship with El Negro Juanito is more of a partnership—how do you get to that place? Right now, I feel like she would run over me like a freight train.”

The words poured out of Adriana in a stream.

Milo smiled, then looked back out over the yard. He let the breeze blow across his face and took a breath, allowing himself to simply be present in the moment.

He understood what Adriana was going through. He had gone through it himself when he was younger, and so had his mother. Her experience was what had led her to walk away from the muertos for so many years.

So he knew his answer mattered. It wasn’t trivial.

Milo reached over and took Adriana’s hand. He held it without speaking for several minutes, allowing the contact and the warmth of his grip to comfort her and demonstrate his friendship.

Adriana relaxed instinctively, accepting the humanness of his touch and the emotion it carried.

Milo felt her respond, then very quietly, looking into her eyes, he said, “It’s about relationship.”

Adriana remained silent, knowing that Milo had more to say—but that it would come in his time.

“El Negro Juanito isn’t a servant or a master. He is my friend, with all that entails.” Milo waited for the words to sink in, for Adriana to make the connection.

“So, she and I need to become friends. We need to learn to care for and respect each other, and work together.” Adriana spoke softly, almost to herself.

Milo simply nodded.

As Jose looked around, his eyes caught movement on the second tier of the museum. It was an elderly gentleman dressed in white slacks and a light blue guayabera shirt. Although he was old, he moved with the fluid grace of someone much younger.

He descended the stairs slowly, a smile on his face as he focused on them.

“Buenos días! Welcome to Museo El Cemí. My name is Aníbal Santiago, but everyone calls me Coquí.”

He extended his hand. Diego took it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Señor Santiago. This is my friend Jose, and I’m Diego.”

“It’s good to meet you both—and please, call me Coquí.”

Diego lightly elbowed Jose. Jose shook Coquí’s hand and offered a smile.

Coquí smiled at Jose, humor in his eyes, as if he sensed that Jose was a bit out of his depth in the Museo.

“What brings you up the mountain? We mostly get tourists and class trips this time of year.”

Diego saw that Jose was still struggling with how to frame his answer, so he did what he always did. He relied on his charm.

“Well, Coquí,” Diego said conspiratorially, edging a little closer. “We have a class project about Taíno religion, and while most of our classmates are huddled in the library, a little bird told us you were the man to speak to.”

“Oho—so I am maybe your secret weapon, yes?” Coquí said, humor lighting up his eyes.

Diego smiled and said softly, “I guess you found me out. We really want an A on this project, and I think talking to you is going to help that happen.”

“All right, then,” he said. “Tell me what you know about the Taíno gods, and I’ll do my best to help you fill in the blanks.”

“We know that the Taíno believed there was a mother goddess, Atabey, who created the world and all life. She had two sons—Yúcahu, who was the lord of the harvest, and Macquetaurie, who was the lord of the underworld. But there was also mention of Yaya, and we’re a little confused about that,” Jose said, recounting what he could remember while framing it in a more academic way, following Diego’s lead.

“Yes, that is an excellent foundation. But you are right to ask about Yaya,” Coquí said as he gently took the boys’ arms and began to guide them through the museum.

“Atabey was the mother goddess. She represented the waters, and all life comes from water—something modern science also confirms. Yaya can be understood as the supreme creative force, the father energy. It is Yaya’s essence that Atabey uses to birth her sons and all of creation. Some American Indian traditions might call him the Sky Father.”

Jose remained silent, considering Coquí’s words. Diego spoke to give him time.

“So Yaya is the father, and Atabey is the mother, and Yúcahu and Macquetaurie are their sons. Was that the entire pantheon, or were there others?” Diego asked as they stopped in front of a display of stones etched with different petroglyphs.

“The ancient Taíno religion was both polytheistic and animistic,” Coquí said. “The Taíno perceived the divine in every part of their world. God did not exist apart from nature, but inhabited all natural things. The zemis were in the rivers, the trees, the stones, the sunlight, the wind—even in the crops the Taíno grew.”

Coquí pointed to the paintings on the opposite wall, which depicted scenes of Taíno life.

Diego glanced over at Jose as Coquí was speaking. Jose gave him a small smile. Diego knew it was time to let Jose lead now that he had found his footing.

“So the zemis were part of nature. We also learned about Maboyas—was it also a zemi?” Jose asked, doing his best to stay in character.

Coquí took a moment, weighing how he would respond.

“That is a very good question, and its answer is complex. The short answer is that Maboyas was not a zemi. The longer answer is that Maboyas wasn’t even a singular being. Maboyas was a condition—an effect.”

Coquí let his words sink in before he continued.

“The zemis were part of creation. They kept the balance and order of nature. Where the zemis resided, all was well. The crops grew, the people thrived, and life and death were held in balance.”

Jose fell silent again, taking a moment to work through what Coquí had explained. Diego stepped in, giving him time to think.

“So if Maboyas was a condition—an effect—what was that effect, and what caused it to occur?”

“The Taíno believed that the zemis were forces of balance. When they were present, all things were in harmony. But when a zemi departed—or lost interest because of a lack of reverence—the balance was disrupted. An emptiness formed in the natural order, and chaos filled the void. That chaos is Maboyas.”

Coquí paused again, letting the boys process what they were learning. Diego was quiet, but Coquí could see that he was already formulating his next question.

“So Maboyas isn’t evil, but simply a natural result of an absence of the divine order?” Diego said quietly, the immensity of the answer weighing on him.