It is time for a coffee break. Both my young friends from five hundred years ago are understandably overwhelmed. Ilhuitl is especially fascinated by anything that has wheels. The Aztecs didn't know the wheel and so this is a complete novelty to him. I like Ilhuitl, and even though my overseers from the Millionth Council have advised me to not pick a favourite between the two young men, I find that the young Aztec priest is by far more likeable. He approaches everything that he sees here with the innocent curiosity of a highly-gifted child (I believe him to be gifted), very unlike Juan, who has absolutely no tolerance for anything different or that exists beyond the range of his understandably very limited experience of Medieval Spain. But he does like bicycles. To my wonder, Juan is not only intrigued by bikes, he wants one. He expressed dismay that no one rides horses in my city and Juan, like any self-respecting hidalgo, is an accomplished horseman. He brought his steed over from Spain on the boat and this fellow and his horse were inseparable. For him, not having his horse with him is a lack and a loss he can scarcely endure and then I put it all together. Having a bike, for Juan, would be his small compensation for being without a horse, and would at least in part help restore his sense of lost manhood.
I have also observed this about Juan, and what makes him so different from Ilhuitl, who has never ridden any kind of animal in his life, because the Mexica never domesticated anything other than dogs, for meat as well as companionship, and turkeys. I believe that Ilhuitl can owe his evident humility to the fact that he has always walked everywhere, thus firmly connecting him to the earth. It could be that the Spanish of the Sixteenth Century, like other Europeans from the minor nobility and up, are so insufferably arrogant because they have long dominated horses. Those beautiful, proud and strong animals, and quite huge and quite able to kill any man with a single kick, are under their dominion. They carry them everywhere now as their own beasts of burden, leaving them too proud to touch the earth with their delicate (and stinking, since they never bathe) European feet. I am sad to note that I have noticed in many of our own cyclists a similar kind of arrogance, especially towards pedestrians. I will not speak here of the mentality of people who drive cars.
I have picked this café for a couple of reasons: first of all, to get Juan off the street so he can cool off for a while. He threatened to punch a small Asian man for almost walking into him. I tried to explain that he was too fastened to his phone to know where he was going, then remembered that I still haven't explained phone technology to either Juan or Ilhuitl nor do I think they'd absorb it. I have also noticed that he has no tolerance for anyone getting in his way, especially non-Caucasians.
In decidedly different ways, the weight of the violent histories of their peoples hangs like a dark shadow on both my young charges: Juan, the conquistador, like many Spanish hidalgos, is not satisfied that his people have driven the Muslims and the Jews and everyone else they didn't like out of Spain. Now they have to proceed onto other shores to continue their celebration of dominance and slaughter. Ilhuitl wears it differently. From centuries of internecine warfare with other tribes and nations his people have become very ordered, disciplined and introspective. Even though they do it with brutality, the Mexica are prepared to coexist with other peoples, despite the frequent warfare. The Spanish will coexist with no one.
I have also picked this café because it is a place that I already enjoy. The people who work here are friendly, personable and welcoming. Reason number three: this is a Mexican establishment and for this reason it will be a valuable link in our little experiment. Now they are both drinking and enjoying their coffee. They have been able to speak a bit of Spanish with one of the young servers. Juan wants to know what part of Spain she is from, an awkward moment, given that as a Spaniard he would already know from her accent that she is from Latin America. But for Juan, this young woman, who might easily be his and Ilhuitl's descendent, could not possibly be from Mexico, a country that for him still has no existence. He speaks to her with courtesy and deference, as she is young, pretty, and rather modestly dressed. She is also light-skinned, which for him certainly helps. She appears a bit uncertain about his accent, as his Spanish is quite antiquated. I note how quickly he drops his pretence of amiability as she serves him his coffee which he receives without a word or gesture of gratitude. Ilhuitl offers her a shy smile and proffers a softly spoken, "Gracias, doncella."
No comments:
Post a Comment