Chapter 8

Los Llanos, the second largest city in La Palma, lay at the center of the island. Though almost twice as many people lived here as in Santa Cruz, at this time of the day the town was deserted. It was siesta time, so most shops would not open their doors again before five in the afternoon. Actually a good idea to enjoy a little nap after lunch and tackle the second half of the day with renewed strength, thought Romy as she threw Thea a worried look. Her friend was wiping sweat from her forehead. Even during the winter months it could get quite hot on the islands. They even had needed the air-conditioning during their ride into town.

The sun beat down on the square in front of the museum, a modern rotunda with glass surfaces. Next to the entrance rock fragments were arranged, into which different symbols had been carved—spirals, concentric circles, interlocking wavy lines forming a pattern.

“They’re imitations, of course,” said Ricardo. “But the real petroglyphs don’t look much different.”

“And it’s not known what they mean?” asked Romy.

He shook his head. “At least the scientists don’t.”

“Who knows then?”

“Well, the Guanches themselves.”

“But they’re not around anymore.”

He shrugged. Romy traced the symbols with her finger. Suddenly she saw in her mind’s eye the alcove of her vision in which the bowl with the mysterious potion was standing. In the cave these very symbols were carved into the stone.

“Do any of these symbols exist in the caves?” she asked Ricardo.

He nodded. “Mostly they’re found at former cult places and where there once were springs. The spiral is now something like the symbol of the island and is printed on T-shirts, mugs, and all that has remotely to do with the island.”

Romy got the impression he was not too happy about this, as if the old culture was defiled somehow. “And what is the meaning of the spiral for the Guanches?” she asked.

“The same as for almost all archaic peoples. It’s the symbol for infinity, for the eternally recurring cycle of nature.”

“Even for reincarnation, maybe?”

“That I don’t know.”

“Have you ever heard of amakuna?” Romy didn’t take her eyes off him.

“No, what’s that?” He really seemed to have no idea.

Romy waved in dismissal. “It’s not important. Let’s go inside, it certainly won’t be so hot in there,” she said and went ahead.

In the museum lobby a school class that definitely had not come here voluntarily was roughhousing around. The teacher, a South American–looking, full-figured young woman, made a genuine effort to bring them under control. Some of the boys had folded paper airplanes from advertising brochures, which they shot wildly through the room. The young teacher was obviously on the edge of despair when the cashier finally gave her a sign that the wild pack of children could go in. “Venga, venga,” she called in a loud voice, dragging a plump boy behind her, who absolutely did not want to move along.

Romy gave her a sympathetic smile, which she returned beaming. “You get used to it. I hope you weren’t too bothered by the children.”

“No, don’t worry,” Romy answered in Spanish, which she spoke more and more fluently now. Thea bought three tickets, and they entered a recreated world of that forgotten people who had lived here in La Palma, in one of Europe’s outermost regions, until five hundred years ago.

The first thing they came across was a replica of a cave, which vividly depicted how domestic life was organized at that time. At the front was the hearth, in the middle lay thick slabs of stone to eat and work on, and farther back in the cave were the sleeping places. Next to the large cave there was a smaller cave in which the food was stored.

The information panels said that the Guanches cultivated corn, oats, beans, and lentils but also ate wild growing fruits such as dates or strawberries. They had herds of goats, a particularly strong race that was still farmed on the island. Their staple food was gofio, a mash of roasted fern roots and barley. The tribes of the coastal regions also lived on seafood. They especially loved the firm flesh of the lapas, marine gastropods which are found on the menu of almost every Palmerian restaurant, Ricardo explained.

In the next room there were mainly showcases with clay bowls and plates decorated with fine patterns, as well as necklaces and bracelets made of bone and shell. Romy couldn’t get enough of them. She had always had a soft spot for relics and antiques. The older they were the more beautiful and more mysterious. That this had been a primitive Stone Age culture, as Señor Gutiérrez had called the Guanches, was definitely not the case.

“Their taste was good,” said Thea, who especially liked the jewelry. “You could easily wear this today.”

“The Guanche women had a very special position,” Ricardo said. “Unlike the rest of Europe, they had a voice in all decisions and could keep up with the men physically. They were warriors and even participated in stone-tossing competitions. But mostly they acted as healers and visionaries, the so-called harimaguadas, who were highly respected and acted as advisors to the leader of the tribe.”

Again it seemed to Romy that Ricardo was speaking about his own people, as if they were still alive. “A leader,” he continued, “had to be of a high rank, into which one, however, was not born, but one had to work up to by an exemplary life and good deeds. Those who acted badly were reduced in rank.”

“This should have been introduced all over the world; people would have escaped many despots,” said Romy.

“The ruling class would never have allowed it,” said Thea. “Those who are in power are usually unwilling to let it go. Nothing has changed in that regard.”

Romy knew exactly what she was referring to. Suddenly a chill ran down her spine, and she thought of Forster’s Health and her boss, Berger. She had hardly finished that thought, when the voice of the nice teacher reached her ear. The young woman apparently still had not given up trying to awaken the interest of her pupils for their ancestors. Though Romy could not understand everything because the noise level was rather high, a word caught her attention: harimaguadas.

The teacher said that not long ago four mummies had been found on the island, probably medicine women. The oldest had died one thousand years ago and the youngest five hundred. Romy could hardly believe it.

“Yes, that’s right,” said the woman, as Romy asked her to repeat what she had said. She was delighted that at least one person showed some interest in what she was talking about. “Mummies of harimaguadas!”

Romy swallowed. “And how do you know that they were harimaguadas?” She did not find it difficult to pronounce this word completely unknown to her minutes before.

“Because only they were mummified, they and of course the male tribal leaders. Furthermore, their stomach contents have been examined and remnants of an unknown psychotropic substance were found. So it seems likely.”

Romy felt like she was suddenly in a mystery thriller. “How do you know all this?”

“My boyfriend was there. His hobby is rock climbing, and he helped the archaeologists retrieve the mummies from a difficult to access cave in the caldera.”

Romy’s face was glowing. This was just not possible! Thea had been right with her assumption: Tichiname must literally have taken the secret with her to the grave.

“Do you think your boyfriend would show us this cave?” she asked excitedly.

The teacher looked at her slightly puzzled. “I don’t know, but he’s not here anyway.”

“Where is he?” Romy kept at it undeterred.

“He’s in Ecuador on a climbing tour and won’t be back for a couple of months.”

“I was there, too, with my friend two years ago.” Romy pointed to Thea, who was just coming up to them with Ricardo.

“These are Thea and Ricardo, our . . . guide. I’m Romy.”

“Pilar,” the teacher introduced herself and gently pressed her cheek against Romy’s, once left and once right. “Encantada, pleased to meet you.”

Romy told Thea briefly what she had just learned. Thea immediately wanted to hear more, while Ricardo’s face darkened.

“Is there anyone else who knows the way to the cave?”

“No lo sé,” said Pilar, shaking her head. “But I can ask Manolo when he calls me tonight.”

“That would be great. My friend and I are passionate rock climbers, and we’re also very interested in the culture of the Guanches.”

“In stark contrast to the bunch here,” she sighed. “Manolo says it is a most extraordinary, magical place. He wanted to show it to me several times, but so far I couldn’t bring myself to go. These things scare me. My grandmother’s from Garafía, in the secluded north of the island, and has told me about the creepy death rituals of the Guanches when I was a child. This imprinted firmly on my memory. Also, I’m not very athletic.” She looked herself over, laughing. “I’d probably have to slim down a bit; otherwise the rope probably would break right away.”

“It would be great if he could tell you the way at least roughly,” Romy said in a happy tone to keep the subject alive.

“The caldera is a nature reserve,” Ricardo interjected. “To go climbing there you need a special permit, which only scientists get. What do you want there? The mummies have been brought to the museum in Gran Canaria long ago. And now, in the winter, it’s far too dangerous to climb there, especially when it has rained as much as in the past month,” he added.

“Unfortunately, I need to check on my little monsters,” Pilar apologized. “They have probably turned half of the museum upside down by now. It’s suspiciously quiet. Here’s my phone number; feel free to call me.” She handed Romy a piece of paper, which she tore from a notepad and quickly followed her class into the next room. “Oh . . . mi madre!” they heard her cry.

Thea looked at Romy questioningly.

“Probably the kids have taken apart the caves, undressed the dolls, and dressed in their furs.”

Before they could drop off Ricardo in Tijarafe, he cautioned them again against a tour into the caldera, described the dangers in colorful detail, and even worked in the cost of the rescue helicopter if they needed to be flown out. And suddenly he discouraged them, just as Gutiérrez, from digging deeper into the culture of the Guanches.

Romy and Thea promised him faithfully to go nowhere without letting him know, with which he finally contented himself. Meanwhile, it seemed more and more strange to them that he was so keen on playing their nanny. The real reason for his behavior was a mystery, but they knew there was something deeper going on.

At home on their terrace they decided to finish off this exciting day with a glass of red wine from La Palma. Thea especially was exhausted. Romy wondered how she hung on so well.

“To Iriomé.” They clinked glasses.

“So?” posed Thea.

“What?”

“When do you call Pilar?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good. After all, we’ve conquered other mountains. This volcanic crater should not really be a problem. A rope and a few hooks can definitely be found somewhere,” Thea said, so full of verve and energy that Romy could only look at her in amazement. “I’ll see this through with you, and neither you nor this Ricardo or anyone else is going to stop me.”

Romy looked at her friend thoughtfully. “What do you expect to gain by it?” she asked.

“Formerly, I’d have asked myself that, too.” She laughed. “But look where my pragmatism has got me in life. Perhaps not everything is what reason dictates to us. I don’t know. I just know that since your vision, or whatever it was, it all kind of . . . sorts itself out?”

Romy nodded. Actually, nothing surprised her anymore. Since they had landed on this island, she no longer had a grip on herself. It was as if someone else had taken over. The only question was where the path would lead.

Meanwhile the sky glowed in all imaginable shades of orange, creating a spectacular sunset. The touchdown, as the friends called the moment when the fireball touched the horizon, was in the offing. They looked over the sea in order not to miss it, when Sam’s dreadlocks pushed into the picture.

“Hi, I don’t want to bother you, but I have good news.”

Romy groaned inwardly. He destroyed a magic moment. She was sure she had just seen Iriomé’s face in the setting sun. Of course, it had been only an illusion, wishful thinking. But still.

“You’ve come to bring us more pot?” Thea said amused.

“No! Yes! You’ll get some. But what I wanted to say is that tonight the moon is full, and there’s going to be a full moon party down in the caves of Buracas. Maybe you’d like to come along?”

He vaulted over the low terrace wall, and this time Thea also got a hug lasting at least two minutes. “A few Rainbows from the last gathering will be there too. That’s going to be cool.”

“What on earth are Rainbows?” Romy asked, a little bit irritated.

“Don’t you know the Rainbow legend?”

Romy shook her head. Another legend; there seemed to be no end.

“It comes from the Hopis and says that there will be a new tribe composed of people from all parts of the world, their colors as varied as the rainbow. After an era of exploitation and war, it will be this tribe that reconciles man and nature and heals the Earth.”

“And you believe in that?”

“No,” he replied smiling. “I live it, just like all the other hippies, environmentalists, artists, travelers, and dropouts.”

Romy gave him a skeptical sidelong look.

“So you coming along?”

“Sorry, I’m exhausted,” Thea said. “It’s been a long day. I could fall asleep right now. But it’s okay if you want to go.” She winked at Romy. “You’ll definitely get some new insights.”

“Yes, certainly,” Sam agreed.

Romy looked from one to the other uncertainly. “Oh well, I’ll tell you everything afterward.”

“I’ll pick you up in two hours. Dress warmly; it gets cold at night around here.” Sam had already disappeared behind the terrace wall.

“Well, to the hippies!” Romy raised her glass to Thea. “You know what they seem like to me? A bit like the Guanches from the museum. They’re against technology, against violence, don’t care for power or money, and live surrounded by nature.”

“That’s right. It’s probably no coincidence that so many of them are running around here. On this island everything seems to come together somehow, as if there was a precise plan behind it,” said Thea thoughtfully.

Romy marveled at how Thea’s rationality had melted down. They both dwelled on their thoughts for a while and let themselves be captured by the tints of red and purple in the sky that now, just after sunset, were glowing intensely. Romy felt as if she was pulled away from her familiar world more and more. But where? Where is this going to take me?

The stony path on which she followed Sam down to the caves of Buracas offered a view so beautiful and unreal it surpassed imagination. Almost like in her dream. A full moon bathed the rugged landscape, blossoming almond trees, cacti, and dragon trees in silvery light. Except for some dilapidated, thick-walled houses made of natural stones, nothing indicated civilization.

It was so bright they didn’t need a flashlight to find their way. No wonder fantasies and thoughts of the supernatural were taking root here. The shadows the rocks were casting under the moonlight looked to Romy like alien beings that appeared at night to show people there was another world beyond theirs. A world that had its own rules. Maybe even a better world.

From a distance she heard the waves of the Atlantic thunder against the cliffs, and when the muffled sounds of drums and the bright sounds of flutes drifted up to them, the scenario was perfect. Fifty yards below the path a large fire was burning in a barranco, a deep gorge. Romy spotted cave entrances of various sizes in the rock walls around her. The smaller ones were partially blocked with wooden doors; the large ones looked like open mouths. It gave her goose bumps. Somehow all this seemed quite familiar. Like déjà vu. If a Guanche in fur clothing appeared in one of the cave entrances now, it wouldn’t have surprised her in the least.

However, when they arrived, all she heard was a mixture of English, Spanish, German, and some Eastern European language. Neither the word magec nor aramotanoque reached her ears. Someone handed her a mug of hot chai from a boiling iron kettle over the fire. Romy nodded thanks, sipping the sweet liquid flavored with cloves and cinnamon. She sat down by the fire, stretching her feet toward the heat, and looked around. The men wore wide pants and the women long skirts with chunky knit sweaters or ponchos. Almost all were barefoot. Most had long hair, many of them dreadlocks like Sam, some decorated with beads and colorful threads. Two young women carried babies in wide cloths wrapped around their upper bodies. All were very friendly and peaceful. Everyone here seemed to have a task, but no one was in charge or gave instructions.

“You’re also from Germany, right?” one of the young mothers asked, sitting down beside Romy in front of the fire. She said her name was Salima. She was at most in her midtwenties, was very pretty, and wore a funny hat.

“Yes, I’m here on holiday with a friend,” answered Romy.

“We’re always on holiday,” Salima laughed. “Three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”

Obviously I’m doing something wrong, thought Romy and grinned. “What do you live on?”

“It’s no problem. There’s always something left for us somewhere. And when we need money, we make music or juggle on the beach for the tourists. I sing, my boyfriend plays the guitar, and Amina, the girl over there, plays the flute.”

Romy remembered hearing people play in Tazacorte outside the fish restaurants by the sea. And now she also recognized Salima’s hat. “And that’s enough to live on?”

“The less you have, the less you need.”

“Do all Rainbows think like you?” Romy asked.

“Essentially, yes. We simply have no desire for so-called society. Being conformist, always having to catch up regarding money, status, friendships . . . And then the falsity of the powerful in politics and business.”

Romy understood what the young woman meant, but she felt the urge to object. “And what about the responsibility one has to do something against this hypocrisy? Dancing and drumming won’t change anything. Hippies already tried this back in the sixties and seventies. And look where we are now.”

“But at least I can protect my child from this world, as long as possible. She’s learning something valuable here. Among us, everyone’s there for everyone. Everything’s shared. There is no hierarchy; we decide everything jointly, no ego games, no one feels superior to the other. Of course there are arguments from time to time, but we try to resolve them peacefully and with respect for the other.”

The island of the blessed, even if what the young woman was saying was true, seemed rather idealized to Romy. How on earth would the children get along later, when they left the island?

“You’re going to find out,” a tall, lean guy with long hair that almost came down to the waist chimed in. His gold-rimmed glasses were the only remainders of a previous, obviously bourgeois, existence.

“What do you mean?” Romy asked.

“Well, you don’t look like someone who always keeps her mouth shut and dutifully marches in step. But that’s what they want from you in the world out there. If you protest or even mess with those who hold the reins of power, you will have to run as fast as you can or be destroyed.”

“And hide in a cave,” Romy added, grinning. She was not sure whether the guy was a nutcase and suffered from paranoia or actually was on the run.

“They don’t waste any time, you know. First you lose your livelihood, then you lose your family, and when they still haven’t gotten you down, then it’s off with your head. I’m George, by the way.” He embraced her, but not quite as long as Sam had.

“So you’re not here of your own free will?”

“No, but that’s a long and especially ugly story,” he replied seriously.

“Why La Palma?”

“This island’s something special,” Salima cut into the conversation.

“You mean because of the Guanches?” Romy was not quite sure what kind of people she was dealing with.

“I think it goes back before their time. The Canaries were once Atlantis, the legendary continent that disappeared beneath the waves of the Atlantic. Legend has it that the people there lived in a golden age of peace and harmony with nature. And some of it has been preserved here.”

This was a bit much for Romy. However, she didn’t want to disillusion the young woman. That would happen soon enough. On the other hand, she had encountered much on the island so far that had been of some relevance. Perhaps George’s words were meant as a warning, which she’d better take seriously. Maybe this young mother could show her a new way.

Romy stared into the fire and suddenly wished she could share the attitude of this young woman. How awesome it would be if people could live in harmony with nature again. No more pollution. Respect for all living things. Healthy food and exercise in the open air. Many of the so-called lifestyle diseases would no longer exist. Both pharmaceutical companies and all connected industries would be superfluous in their present form. Doctors could really tend to their patients and would no longer be forced to make fast diagnoses and prescribe drugs. What a beautiful dream. But who could implement it in reality? She herself had already tried and failed when she wanted to enforce a few innovations that would have meant only minor financial loss to the hospital.

“Could you please look after my daughter for a minute?” Salima interrupted Romy’s thoughts. “I’d like to do a bit of drumming, and she’s fast asleep.” Without waiting for an answer, Salima pulled her sling, including child, over her head, put it into Romy’s arms, and ran off.

“That was quick,” laughed Sam, who suddenly appeared next to her. “Looks good on you. You’ve got no children, I suppose?”

Romy shook her head.

“And do you want some?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always thought it’s not very responsible to bring children into this world. Besides, there are already enough. And honestly, I haven’t met a man yet I think is suitable to be the father of my children.”

“Uh-oh, that sounds like bad experiences.”

“Well, we all have them, don’t we?”

“You want to talk about it?”

Romy took a deep breath. “Better not.”

“Come on!” Sam sat beside her at the fire and gave her an inviting look.

“Well, I’ve trusted the men, and then they went their separate ways all the same.”

“And why?”

“I think I’m too complicated and not conformist enough. Maybe because I haven’t said what they wanted to hear. I’ve no idea.”

“And that’s what always happens?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s karma.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “Perhaps.” For a brief moment the thought flashed through her mind that Iriomé might have had similar experiences, even though the women of the Guanches, in contrast to the rest of Europe, enjoyed a rather emancipated position. Allegedly. “I think my expectations regarding men are simply too high. Probably no one will ever meet them.”

“Never say never.”

Sam gently stroked her back; Romy enjoyed it. Of course, she was longing for a partner, and she also had not abandoned the desire for a child completely. A few times she had even tried to adapt, against her nature, to expectations, but in the long run she had never succeeded in playing the good girl.

“So you don’t believe in true love?”

“I probably wouldn’t even recognize if it were two feet from me,” replied Romy, looking into the fire.

“You’ll recognize the love of your life immediately,” Salima said, who had heard the end of their conversation as she took her baby back. “Hey, why don’t you two join in?”

Romy noticed that most of those gathered were dancing to the rhythm of the drums now. Though it was not techno or trance, the music types Romy preferred for dancing, the acoustics were still phenomenal. Sam took Romy’s hand and pulled her up. She closed her eyes and, without even thinking about what she was doing, she began to move first her legs, then her hips, and finally her head to the rhythm of the drums echoing from the cliffs. She had never danced in the open air under the full moon before, but she liked it. After a while, she stopped worrying about the meaning of it all.

Eventually, there was only the music and the rhythm. Then suddenly a gentle flute melody snaked through the archaic tones. It penetrated her skin and made its way through her whole body. For the first time in a long time, Romy felt connected with herself. And in some way also with Iriomé. The more she reveled in this feeling, the more ardently she wished to finally be reunited with her.