PARTISAN REVIEW
Finally, Edna turned to me and asked, "Do you understand
him?" "No, of course not. Do you?" I said resentfully, hoping to
indicate I thought my reaction was a normal one and that anyone
who claimed to understand what the Indian farmer was saying was
in some way abnormal.
"Why, it's simple," Edna said, "he is trying to tell us how he
plows the field. He gets up early in the morning, when the sun is low
in the sky and it is still cool, takes his ox out to the field, yokes it to
the tree trunk, and begins to plow. He starts at one end, goes to the
other end, turns around, goes back again, and so on, back and
forth, back and forth. Every little while, he and his ox take a rest,
especially as the day grows older and hotter. He unyokes the ox,
leads it to a shade tree, where they both get some relief from the sun.
In the middle of the day, he feeds the ox some grain and water,
while he eats a tortilla. Then they go back to plowing, continuing
until nightfall, when he unyokes the ox, and both of them go horne.
Then he puts the ox out to graze, while he has his evening meal,
after which both of them go to sleep."
Throughout Edna's recital of his story, the Indian was grinning
triumphantly like a little boy listening to his mother tell his father
what he had done that day. He also seemed to have full confidence
in
his
translator. I was still a little piqued by Edna's mastery of the
unintelligible, but my irritation was by now completely overshadowed
by the awe and compassion I felt before the simple story of the In–
dian's life. He was now ready to go to work again, and we were set
to move on. As we walked to the road and he went back to his ox,
we turned and waved to each other, and, until we moved out of
sight, he kept turning around and throwing his arms out at us, his
face knotted in a permanent grin.
The rest of the day proceeded according to our original schedule.
We got a lift in a truck that was going past the place we were
headed for. The driver dropped us at the ruins, where we had the
lunch prepared for us at the hotel, and then we were led through a
maze of ancient caves and walls by an old Indian guide, who,
in the course of explaining everything to us, managed to con–
vey his hatred of the Spanish conquerors who murdered and en–
slaved his people and destroyed their temples and monuments. We
were the only visitors that day, and we wandered about for several
