My Brigadista Year by Katherine Paterson

Author:Katherine Paterson [Paterson, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780763698874
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2017-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

I began to spend a day each week working at the Acostas’. They didn’t need me as much as the Santanas, as they had four capable adults to do the chores, whereas at my house there were only two. But Luis felt strongly that I should spend some daylight time with the neighbors. He was right, of course. Chopping corn together, we got to know each other better, and though Daniel never really apologized for his earlier rudeness to me, he made a real effort to listen carefully during the lessons and work hard.

The Acostas were always glad to see me when I came to their farm, and it eased the initial awkwardness of their studying with me. One day Daniel and I had a race to see who could fill a basket of beans first.

“You lose!” he crowed.

“No fair,” I said. “Your arms are longer.”

“What do long arms have to do with it? It’s skill.”

“Well. You’ve been picking longer — years longer.”

“Can I help it if all you’ve done is read books?”

I had to laugh. Not because anything was so terribly funny, but because sour-faced Daniel and I were actually having fun together.

One day he had fetched the Santanas’ oxen for plowing, as the two families shared their use. When it was time for me to go home, Daniel asked me to drive the pair home and save him the round-trip. I was very honored that he would trust me with this errand.

Having all four Acostas in the class made everything more lively. However, teaching Joaquin how to write his name became something of a challenge. He looked at what I had written on the slate and said, “That’s not my name.”

“Yes, it is,” I said. “J-o-a-q-u-i-n. That is the way to spell Joaquin.”

“No,” he protested. “It should be J-o-a-c-i-n. You taught us ca, ce, ci, co, cu. It should be ci, like you taught us.”

“No, Joaquin, I’m sorry. I didn’t teach you that. I told you it’s ca, co, cu, but the c before i and e is pronounced like an s sound. C-i is pronounced ‘si.’ You wouldn’t want to pronounce Joaquin ‘Joasin,’ would you? Of course not. So the proper spelling of your name is J-o-a-q-u-i-n.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why,” I said. “I didn’t decide it. Maybe somebody long ago in Spain decided on this funny way to write it. It’s strange, but that’s the way it is. And if you want someone to look at what you’ve written and read ‘Joaquin,’ this is the way you will have to spell it.”

He shook his head. “It makes no sense,” he grumbled.

“No, it doesn’t, and I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s just the way it is.”

“When I write my letter, I will tell Fidel it is wrong and tell him to change it. We won our freedom from Spain many years ago. Those stupid imperialists have no right to tell us how to write our own names.”

On Sunday when I read this story aloud from my diary, all my friends laughed with delight.

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