Chapter 1 In The Beginning

Camela bending over the coals turning the freshly caught sea turtle her husband Ignacio brought in from last evenings' fishing, looked up to see her eight offspring at play with each other. Their laughter was joyous as they tossed and kicked the round leather ball Camela had stitched almost a decade ago when she herself was playing the same game with her siblings. The sun was settling itself on the peaks of Tetakawi casting a long golden shadow on the sandy beach in front of her families palapa they had called home for generations.
Ignacio and his only living brother Pablo were paddling through the small breakers about to beach as the children ran up to help pull the boat full of the days catch of sardines high out of the Sea of Cortez.
Camela, delighted with her husbands return abandons the roasting sea turtle to welcome the father of her children back with a long hug and a gentle kiss. She whispers to him "He was here again today Ignacio". Ignacio held her tighter and whispered back"We will discuss this tonight at council. We are not trespassers. This is our home and Senior Don is not going to take it away from us." With that Ignacio shouts out orders for the baskets to be brought to the boat and the children scrambled to fetch and fill them with the hoard of fresh sardines.
Camelia returns to the roasting sea turtle and proclaims "Dinner in 20 minutes. Pablo takes his leave to go to the village and promises to return that evening for the council. The sardines by now have been all hung in the fish racks to dry and the stomachs of the family are churning in anticipation of a very tasty dinner Camelia has prepared.
The area of Creston is the area the village where Igancio and his family for generations had lived off the land. His family had spread to the north and south of the Creston area with so many other Indian families, all reaping a wonderful and full life from the land and the Sea of Cortez. There was never any wealth as in money generated from their lifestyle but wealth of the richest in Mexico could never buy the wealth these proud and industrious Indians possessed. The love of each other and the love of the land and sea and the rewards of their efforts paid huge dividends to each and every person. At the council that evening things were about to change that would strip these Indians of their God given Paradise. Chapter 2 upcoming.[b]

With the council fires ablaze, the rhythmic melody of drums beating,could be heard for miles around. The moon took its position high in the night sky, casting a warm glow on the ninety or so who had gathered. People were still snacking on the tidbits brought by the women and the men were in small groups sharing the days news of Senior Don, and his plans.
The Laguna brothers were sharing what they had seen from their highland palapa. It seems a machine which scraped the land was moving toward the swamps. Men in uniforms were seen poking long sticks into the earth. One man had a tube with three legs he would bend down and look through. This news the brothers told of spread like a virus. Ignacio when hearing this motioned to the drummers to stop and he stepped onto the talking stone and silence fell instantly.
Ignacio was the most highly revered man in the entire village though you would not know it by his mannerisms. No man was more humble or more giving. What Ignacio spoke was taken as truth. "Thanks to the mercy of God we come here tonight for council. The season of harvest is always and the love of our fellow man is constant. There is news we must discuss. You have all heard of Senior Don. He is not from here as you know. I was approached by him and several of his men a few days back. They make claim to our villages. They make claim to our sacred grounds. Our grandfathers grandfathers have lived here and yet Senior Don claims our heritage for himself. They intend to bring in the machines tomorrow the Laguna brothers spoke of. They are headed this way to extend the city into our villages. We have always welcomed the foreign ones to come and fish. We even have welcomed them into our villages and allowed some to set tents and rolling casas. Tomorrow Senior Don will return. His powerful machines can not be stopped by a man among us even the strongest. I wonder if any here know of the path we need to follow to stop Senior Don from his paper plans. Is there none with the answer?"
Juan stands up and yells "we must stop them some how".
"Yes we must " Manu adds.
Ignacio looks around the familiar faces, faces he relies on daily as they rely on him. And yet this time the faces he sees are scared. He wonders to himself if his face displays the fear of his friends and family.
"Tomorrow I will meet Senior Don and I will deny him access beyond the motor trail where it turns north with forks. We can set guards on either side and drums will warn of intruders. Let's meet next evening and I will tell you of my meeting with Senior Don.
Chapter 3 to follow

Very interesting and well written

Just because the council was over didn’t mean the social gathering dispersed. Camelia and Ignacio wandered not too far off into a darkened shadow where they could see the moonlit water lapping at the sandy beach. Intimacy soon followed. Three of Camelias’ offspring were conceived at council in the privacy of only the shadows. The dark shadows hid many lovers. As the evening wore on the intoxicating and seductive aromas and sounds of the intimate became overwhelming to the last holdouts. Long into the night only giggles and sounds of mutual pleasure could be heard. Eventually sleep overtook the desires of flesh. This is how it had been. This is how it was that night.
Dawn came early. Most woke and left hurriedly to the new day’s chores. Ignacio and Pablo harnessed a pony and loaded him with sea shells and a bounty of sweet fruits as a token gift for Senior Don. It was their custom to give simple gifts on the making of agreements. They had a two hour hike to the fork where they planned to wait for Senior Don. Less than twenty minutes out the two began hearing the rumbling of the large machine described by the Laguna brothers. The noise reached a deafening pitch when the bulldozer came over a cropping of desert pushing a small mountain of rocks and cactus in front of it. Jumping for their lives Ignacio and Pablo landed hard into the prickly bushes just inches from the blade that dug into the earth. The machine stops suddenly and Senior Don leans out toward the two terrified Indians with a grin from ear to ear on his dusty tanned face. Senior Don turns off the machine and the silence was almost was as scary to the Indians as the noisy machine. Standing in the machine Senior Don screamed to the brothers “What the hell are you doing here”. Senior Don reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a flask of bourbon taking a long draw and replacing its cap and tucked it back into his pocket. Wide-eyed and scared Ignacio jumped to his feet just in time to grab the lead to the pony before it could bolt. Pablo attempted to get to his feet but stumbled and hit the edge of the bulldozers’ track with his knee. Blood began to stain his kaki colored trousers. Only seconds from Pablo’s second fall four jeeps came to a screeching halt. Four uniformed military personnel with machine guns occupied each jeep. Ignacio yelled to his brother to run as he pulled the reins on the pony and began running for his life. The two were off in such a hurry Senior Don had to sit down to keep from falling to the ground as his belly laugh weakened him at the knees.

Senior Don turned and spoke to the soldiers “You have seen the enemy in action. You should be back to your baby mommas by this evening if all goes according to plan. The older of the two goes by Ignacio and is considered the elder of our prey. Capture him and the rest will run for the hills. My plan is to bring in all of my ground crews tomorrow. We will not be going any further than the stream the flows into the Bahia. Any Indians this side of the stream will be considered hostile after today and should be arrested or convinced by any means to cross the stream. If that doesn’t seem to be possible I leave it up to you on how best to remove the trespasser.
The soldiers fired up the jeeps and headed to the village. Senior Don started the bulldozer and continued to rough out a road.
Ignacio and Pablo reached the village only minutes before the jeeps began to roll in. Ignacio approached the forward jeep and demanded an accounting of the soldiers’ presence. The uniform got out of his jeep and presented Ignacio with a copy of a document which declared Senior Don rightful owner of all the land from the motor road fork to the rocky bluff several miles north. He said that Senior Don through the goodness of his heart has decided the Indian village could migrate past the sacred hill of Tetakawi. Ignacio never learned to read the Spanish writings. He couldn’t deny what the paper said and he couldn’t read that $50000. Peso per hectare was to be paid in advance of eviction. All this made no sense to Ignacio. How can paper change the fact that this land belonged to his villagers. It nourished them and they nourished it. It was their heritage. What kind of paper has so much power he asked? The soldier looked Ignacio into his eyes and ordered him into the jeep and told him he would take him to one who knows these things. Ignacio refused to budge. A scuffle ensued that bloodied the forehead of the soldier but ended with Ignacio in irons and taken away by the jeep. The soldiers carried out their orders and by sunset all but a few Indians had crossed the stream and headed north past Tetakawi. Ignacio unaware of his family’s forced move was taken to a room in Guaymas where he was chained and guarded.

By noon that same day Senior Don had sculpted an eight foot wide road to the stream crossing at the head of the Bahia. In his shoulder pack he had brought some gifts of his own to share with his Indians as he now thought them to be his. A young brave was collecting clams on the opposite side of the Bahia. Senior Don yells to him to come fetch his gifts. Skeptical though he was the brave waded through shallow water to Senior Don. He was told the gifts are to be shared with the men in his village and to make haste in distributing the small pint bottles of rot gut whiskey. He was also told to return tomorrow as Senior Don would have more pints to share. The young brave ran off with his heavy load and Senior Don, happy with his days activities decided to return to Guaymas for the evening in a jeep with some of the guards who were target practicing with their automatic rifles using nearby cactus as targets. As they were returning to Guaymas one of the uniforms spied an old Indian hiding in the brush with his niece of fifteen. He pointed them out to Senior Don in time for him to give an order for their capture. The foot race was on. The old uncle couldn’t keep pace with his loving niece and soon the uniforms had them captured and tethered together in the back of the jeep. Senior Don ordered the young maiden to be brought to his hotel room on their arrival. Tethered Melaka was taken to the suite and Senior Don ordered the guard to return in an hour for further instructions. As hard as she fought him off she was no match for the half drunk Mexican. He liked the resistance and liked the slapping she endured. Every time he got close enough to kiss her she would bite at him. She nipped the end of his ear off in her struggles which she was rewarded with a blow to the face sending her to the ground unconscious. He took her. Not just once. Not only did he take her virginity but he sodomized her still body. Bruised and bloody he let her lay on the hard wood floor. He showered and changed his clothes. He poured himself a tall bourbon and quickly emptied the glass and poured another and another. Finally the uniform knocked at the door and Senior Don ordered the unconscious girl to be removed from the room and taken to the fork and dropped off. This happened. More bourbon was consumed. He fell asleep after the fifth had been emptied and his limp body slumped to the floor.

The soldier lifted Melaka from the jeep at the fork as directed. She showed no life other than shallow breathing. It was obvious to him what had transpired in the hotel room. This was not your run of the mill uniforms. His name was Juan and he had a sister Melaka’s age. If it wasn’t for Juan, this story wouldn’t be told. After forty years had past Juan shared his story with me. It was a fluke for me to be the one he picked to dump this on but I transcribed his accounts as he remembered them to me. Juan feeling pain with the limp Melaka in his arms set her back into the jeep and drove to the village of her people. When he got to the stream at the head of the Bahia he once again lifted her lifeless body and carried her north to rejoin her with her family. The Indians had set lookouts in the high bluffs and it wasn’t long before Juan and Melaka were surrounded by her villagers. Anger is not enough word to describe the villagers mood as they saw the condition of Melaka. Juan feeling this anger felt it safer for him to leave while he still could and he did. Melaka recovered from her ordeal over time. Her aged uncle didn’t fare so well. You will remember he was captured also and taken to the same room as Ignacio. He suffered a fatal heart attack in the middle of the night, still in irons along side Ignacio. His name was Kikio.

It wasn’t but a week that the villagers had been moved, the first boat load came into the Bahia under the moonless sky. A large produce truck with a big tomato printed on the huge blue tarp cover, pulled away slowly after being loaded with a ton of plastic wrapped cocaine bundles. That night nine trucks would arrive, load and haul away eighteen thousand pounds of the white powder. The destination of course, Nogales. The trucks crossed into the USA unhindered by either countries custom agent. The money was impressive. Soon the once serene village of Ignacio and his people was transformed into a well planned system of roads and a few buildings. Wells and reservoirs were in place. The desert landscape had been laid barren by the twenty-four hour around the clock bulldozing. The paradise that once was home to hundreds of Indian villagers now looked like a flattened wasteland with only a few buildings and lots of roads leading nowhere into the raped desert.

Ignacio died in 1997, living out his life in LaManga with his wife and family. In 2006 more Village people were forced out of their tin shanties to make room for Condos and castle like homes. The build out of San Carlos will eventually rid the area of its last village.
Home Sweet Home eh?
The story you have read is fiction with the dusting of the truth.
The characters are all fictional.
The names are all fictional.
The End

Cudos for The Truth

You will write the book ... and many will contribute if you ask

Will we be able to enjoy Chapter II ...

I would like to have anyone/everyone, contribute to the continuing saga of In The Beginning. If you have a contribution you would like to share please send by email or by posting here and I will include your thoughts ideas and suggestions. I would like to hear from you soon. Thanks.