Condensed version of the
PROLOGUE
to
THE LITTLE BLACK SCHOOLHOUSE
With terror in her black eyes, the young girl gazed at the old man's weathered
face. He spoke with firm conviction to the adults and children gathered around the light
of the fire, as though his ancient age gave him a compelling wisdom.
"Only a fool would not be afraid when they hear the cry of La Llorona."
He spoke clearly but rapidly. "She has been
cursed by God and now must travel the earth crying for her lost child."
Suddenly the old man pointed a gnarled finger at the boy sitting next to the young
girl.
"Are you the son for whom La Llorona weeps?"
The frightened boy tried to speak, drawing close to the young girl for help; but
the words would not leave his lips. The girl looked at him and then turned to the old man
as she said, "He…He…He's my big brother—Leo—Leo Garza."
"And what do you call yourself, niņa?"
"Linda. Our parents are Pedro and Armida Garza." She was proud and indignant. "We…we're
not children of La Llorona."
The old man shook his head sadly.
"That is where you are wrong, niņita. All Chicanos are the bastard
children of La Llorona."
Linda's blood turned cold in her veins. She never wanted to see La Llorona.
Linda and Leo ran away together as fast as their callused bare feet would take
them. On through the dark they ran until at last they reached their one-room dirt adobe
home.
Linda went over to her mother who was cooking flour tortillas on
a wood stove.
She didn't want her mother to see her fear, but she wanted to know what her mother
had to say about La Llorona. Her mother would know. Her mother knew everything. She would
not lie, for everything she said was always true.
As her mother placidly continued her work, she told her daughter, "La Lorona
represents our Aztec mothers who wept for their children fathered by the Spanish men who
raped them. We, the Chicanos, are the offspring of that rape of the Aztec nation. The
father of the child of rape has no claim upon his child, for that child does not even bear
his name, and the father is guilty in the eyes of God. But the raped mother and her child
are innocent in the eyes of God, and thus the child bears his mother's name. La Llorona is
our Indian mother. We call ourselves Chicanos, which means Indian. When we speak of la raza, we are
speaking of the Aztec Indian race that has come to us through La Lorona. You are a
daughter of La Llorona."
Linda's terrified confusion erupted vehemently, "No, I'm not! You're the only
mother I have!"
The mother looked at her daughter with sorrow in her eyes. She had known that Linda
was frightened. She had hoped to remove the fear from her daughter's heart by making her
feel that La Llorona was to be loved, not feared. Now Armida was baffled by her young
daughter
She stooped to gather her vulnerable daughter into her arms. The young Linda
cuddled within the proffered warmth and knew her mother loved her. I want to be just
like her, wise and good, the child's heart cried silently. Her mother, wordless too,
yearned that harm might never touch her children.
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