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Caminos Continues with the true story written by Carmen Duarte.  Her mother Leonarda “Nala” was born into the difficult life of a migrant working family.

Chapter 4: Faith Takes Root

When they heard Nala had been trapped in a fire, Nana Florentino left Virden by buggy, driving the horse hard.  “My abuelita was crying and moaning like an injured cow as they traveled the road to Duncan.  The news she received was that I was burned,” says Nala, my Mama’s nickname.  They arrived around midmorning, and I ran barefoot to greet the buggy.  Nana saw me and began climbing off the buggy before Tata brought it to a stop.  I ran into the arms of my Nana.

Don Juanito Téllez, Nala’s stepfather, had rushed back into the flames of their burning house with a blanket.  He found Nala, frozen in place, standing by a blazing wall.  He wrapped her in the blanket and ran out the front door.  As he stepped out of the house, the wall toppled.  Hearts leaped, and the family knew death was not to take one of them this time.

Nala, her mother, Dolores, and the other children left with the abuelos for Virden, where they remained for two days.  Don Juanito remained, and neighboring men helped him clean out and restore a nearby wooden shack that would become the family’s new home.  They had to start over, collecting furnishings, dishes and clothes.  Dolores cooked under a tent, and the family slept in the shack until Don Juanito built a two-room adobe house, one of four that would eventually be built on the five acres the family acquired through years of laboring in the fields.

All returned to Duncan, except Nala, who remained with the abuelos.  Nana Leonarda had insisted on taking care of her, and Dolores gave in, bringing Nala home only on weekends.  Nala grew up carefree and was the light of her abuelos’ eyes.  She helped her Nana and helped with chores, picking up wood for the heater and cooking fires.

Their daily routine included praying the rosary in the evening.  Nana Leonarda gathered all the area children in her home, including Nala’s childhood friend, cousin Tita.  All knelt on the packed dirt floor to pray the rosary beads. 

Some children didn’t like it, but they didn’t dare complain.  They learned to pronounce the words and pray in reverence or get pinched.  It is a habit that stuck with Mama, a ritual unchanged for 80 years.  Tonight, as she does every night, Mama will kneel at the foot of her bed.  Dressed in her favorite blue nightgown, she will whisper her prayers in a soft cadence.  A lighted candle will cast her shadow on the wall.

She is a small woman, her black-and-gray hair done up in a beehive.  Her shadow looks as if she wears a bishop’s miter.  While growing up, we kids would call Mama the archbishop, knowing we had to say it in a low voice or risk getting a shoe tossed at us.  The 4-foot-8-inch woman deserved and demanded our respect.  She taught us to fear God as well. 

On Sundays, she’d wake us long before daylight for 6 a.m. Mass.  I close my eyes and hear her voice:  “Carmen, levántate.”  I smell her aroma – always a mix of Avon’s Cotillion and the cinnamon scent of Lavoris mouthwash.  Tonight, Mama will sleep in what still seems vast luxury to her – a room of her own with a queen-size bed.

The bed is flanked by night tables filled with dozens of santos – saints and images of Jesus and the Virgin Mary in various apparitions.  Tonight, as every night, Mama will pray to God and the santos to protect us from harm and help us during our trials and tribulations. 

Tomorrow morning, as every morning, she will sit for two hours in the living room with her rosary, prayer book and prayer cards.  We say she prays for the world.  In reality, it is for the extended familia – relatives, friends, friends of friends.  She’ll pray on behalf of anyone who asks and for many who never would.  Every picture, every prayer card, every santo tells a story.

The print of Nuestra Señora del Carmen, my patron saint, was bought before I was born.  It depicts the Virgin with the Christ child sitting on her knee.  Below them, souls languish in purgatory.  Two angels rescue the souls of one man.   Mama prayed to the virgin while she was pregnant with me.  She promised that if I were born healthy she would name me after her.  My name was to be María del Carmen, but the nurses at Tucson Medical Center wrote down “Carmen Mary.”  “That’s life,” says Mama.  There is no anger in her voice.

Her hazel eyes twinkle like a child’s, but her wrinkled face and hands display the effect of years of backbreaking work in the cotton fields and pecan groves.  Gallons of Corn Husker’s lotion saved Mama’s hands when they were chapped and bleeding from cuts.  The santos preserved us all. (To be continued next month.)

Note: Young Latinos of Greater Kansas City and LUNA will host the screening of a new documentary, PANIC NATION on Thursday July 22. The event will take place from 6 – 9 p.m. in Craig Auditorium, Johnson County Community College 12345 College Blvd. in Overland Park. The film features actor Esai Morales, former mayor Henry Cisneros, Sesame Street’s Luis Santeiro and columnist Ruben Navarrette Jr. - $5 dollar donation – but not required. The film delves into the history of anti-immigrant laws and their effects.  A question and answer session with film director, George Adams follows.

Note: Seminar on Immigration takes place on Saturday July 24th.  Dr. Danny Carroll, author and distinguished professor of Old Testament at Denver Seminary will present a Biblical overview of issues related to immigration, “especially relevant for all Christians who have a heart for serving the stranger in our midst.”  The seminar is sponsored by the National Association of Evangelicals and the Grandview Park Presbyterian Church. The church is located 1613 Wilson Blvd in KCK 66102. A fee of $20 dollars includes lunch and will be collected at the door.  The doors open at 8:30 a.m. and starts at 9 AM. For more information go to www.missionadelante.org.

Rudy Padilla is a columnist for the Kansan and can be contacted at opkansas@swbell.net