South America/Caribbean

Reflections on the South America/Caribbean Stories

Columba
For me, the most intriguing part of this thoroughly engaging story comes at the end, with the sentence, 'this was not done.' In class, it seems as though the accepted meaning of these four words is that they indicate the ignorance of slaughtering the doves; though this is certainly one possible explanation, I personally felt that it was in reference to the moment that our heroine places her arm around the slave boy. This was, for me, her coming of age, her act of rebellion against 'what was done.' This can be seen especially when we contrast the sneaking around that she had to do to see Columba at the start of the story- now, she 'recklessly' walks into the bush.

Also interesting here are the political overtones of the basic coming of age story. Already touched upon is the taboo connection between slave and master, but there are further references to the dove-car being a 'colony within a colony,' and the birds themselves not being for killing- a fact not recognised by the colonists.

On Sunday
Again, I'm curious about the ambiguity of the ending here; specifically, what Miguel's 'golden future' might be. Superficially, of course, it refers to his earning the right to date Flora- indeed, this is all Miguel himself can think about: 'All Miraflores would soon know... and Flora would be waiting for him with glowing eyes'. More importantly, though, if we take the voice of the last sentence as Llosa's, this golden future is a reference to the fact that Miguel is 'getting to be a man;' he's overcome the paralysis he encountered before under pressure, and has bested the town's alpha male.

Girl
What I found most interesting here was the almost throwaway insertion of certain instructions that, on a closer reading, give pause for thought. The majority of the advice given is practical, typical, unsurprising: 'cook pumpkin fritters in very hot sweet oil... this is how you sweep a corner,' and it's delivered monotonously, in quick succession. As such, it's easy to miss slightly disquieting instruction, such as: 'this is how to make a good medicine to throw away a child before it even becomes a child.' This is especially disturbing, given its juxtaposition to the more commonplace medicine for curing a cold.
There are also a couple of occasions upon which the advice seems to border on the superstitious, perhaps indicating more deeply the native culture: 'don't throw stones at blackbirds, because it might not be a blackbird at all... this is how to throw back a fish you don't like, and that way something bad won't fall on you.'

Columbus in Chains
Just as in Columba, I found the aspect of colonization an interesting one in this piece. Annie has sympathy for Ruth, who is labeled a dunce for not knowing her West Indian history- but this is an unfair tag, since Ruth is originally from England. Her sympathy, however, does not extend to Columbus, whom she is delighted to see in chains, just as the slaves would have been.

In a way, Annie is still subject to a kind of slavery; the English cultural kind. She rebels against this by belittling Columbus, dancing calypso at recess and later in the graveyard. This story appears a kind of turning point for Annie; at the start, she is prefect, top of the class, and clearly enjoys her home life. By the end, she's lost her prefect position, and returning home finds no comfort there at all.