An Experiment in Disorder

ABSTRACT AN EXPERIMENT IN DISORDER This collection of short stories will focus on the effect of history, memory, and oral traditions on cultural identity but will also focus on identity in general. The intent of this book is to examine identity through generations and time. The collection will introduce the Olivera family and follow with a few stories of this family. The collection will infuse magical realism and introduce the oral tradition of “The People that Drift,” who appear on several occasions and throughout the collection. The characters battle with inclusion and exclusion, an in-betweeness that allows them to wonder about their place. The characters struggle with the issue of social acceptance and contradiction from the hierarchy of power that, at times, accepts their culture but can dismiss it just as easily. The characters question their history, memory, and oral traditions and wonder if what they’ve heard from their culture and traditions are truthful and not based on lies. Does a culture, throughout their history, memory, and oral traditions, tell lies in order to survive, thus, effecting identity? Rolando Paez May 2013 AN EXPERIMENT IN DISORDER by Rolando Paez A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing in the College of Arts and Humanities California State University, Fresno May 2013 APPROVED For the Department of English: We, the undersigned, certify that the thesis of the following student meets the required standards of scholarship, format, and style of the university and the student's graduate degree program for the awarding of the master's degree. Rolando Paez Thesis Author Alex Espinoza (Chair) English Randa Jarrar English Yolanda Doub Modern and Classical Languages and Literatures For the University Graduate Committee: Dean, Division of Graduate Studies AUTHORIZATION FOR REPRODUCTION OF MASTER’S THESIS I grant permission for the reproduction of this thesis in part or in its entirety without further authorization from me, on the condition that the person or agency requesting reproduction absorbs the cost and provides proper acknowledgment of authorship. X Permission to reproduce this thesis in part or in its entirety must be obtained from me. Signature of thesis author: ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to thank my mother and father and brothers and sisters for their years of understanding and support. I would also like to thank Beatriz for being by my side. Thank you. TABLE OF CONTENTS Page THE FLOATING LAND ......................................................................................... 1 YA YA’S DAY ...................................................................................................... 49 CORN OR FLOUR TORTILLAS ......................................................................... 58 CHILD OF THE FOG ............................................................................................ 67 SHEILA .................................................................................................................. 75 WHAT MEDICINE ................................................................................................ 81 A PLACE CALLED HEAVEN ............................................................................. 92 DOMINGO ........................................................................................................... 100 THEY OPENED MY EYES TO THE TRUTH ................................................... 112 ICARUS LIVES ................................................................................................... 127 I LEFT MY SUNGLASSES IN SOLEDAD ....................................................... 139 THE FLOATING LAND The land spoke to Julian. In the days and weeks of traveling, he walked upon the fertile soil, drank cold, luscious water from its rivers, and when he looked upon the vast horizon he could see God’s indelible etchings upon the distant mountaintop. The reports of this land didn’t do justice to what lay before his eyes. Forests, meadows, deserts intermingled into one and then without notice, he would find himself alone with one. The mind is a powerful thing, Julian thought. Every night, he heard coyotes and wolves speak and in their cries, a distinct voice emerged. The voice told him, the land belonged to the strong and those that cared for the land would never possess the land. “Where do you go, Julian?” the coyote asked. The question came in the night and hearing the question, Julian placed more wood on his fire. “He goes to seek his place,” the wolf answered. “The white man has come. He will take all away leaving our brothers, the guardians of the land, to toil for his scraps.” The coyote and the wolf agreed with each other, and raising their heads gazed upon the moon whose specks of light reflected off their coats. Julian put more wood on the fire and in time, the voice no longer questioned him. One day, Julian looked down on a valley that teemed with cattle and horsemen. He also noticed people walking around the cattle; they didn’t have horses, yet they followed the gestures of the horsemen. He was aware that many acres were still occupied by the Mexicans. Julian never met a Mexican and didn’t know what to expect. He had seen Indians and pictured the Mexicans as the same. Both had brown skin and were conquered, what else was there to know? The Indians called him a white man, which confused him, because looking in a mirror 2 2 his skin was also brown. Julian, the white man, came down the hill and entered the brown valley. The white man found the Mexicans in the places that they should be. He found them riding horses across the land, tilling and moving the dirt. Sweat dripping into the men’s eyes and the women working just as hard. The children worked and played with dirty hands made by the soil. The white man found them in the orchards picking fruit from their trees. Their dark brown skin shinned in the day’s heat. In New York City, he once saw a Bronze statue in a museum. He remembered the attendant’s warning, do not touch. He stared at the statue, a glimmer of light reflected off the skin revealing what he described as noble. The same glimmer reflected off the skin of the Mexicans. He watched for a moment and listened to the sound of their voices. A strange mixture of happiness and anger emanated from their throats and tongues, he didn’t know whether the apparent mixture of emotions was aimed at him. He continued on, always, always looking at the land. A variable paradise surrounded him. The Mexicans had claimed this land but the war was over and they lost. The Americans would come as locust to cover the land with a ravenous appetite. Soon, the land would overflow with bands of wagons, horses, and cattle. Searching for land and water to survive, they would accelerate their desire for more, more water, more land, more, more, and more. Never stopping until every corner of California had been claimed. He smiled acknowledging his fortune at having first claim. Still, as he rode past the families, working the land, a hint of sadness touched his heart for the noble savages and the land that welcomed their familiar touch. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo had given the right for colonization to the Americans. It allowed the American to lay claim to an already claimed land. The treaty indicated that the existing land owners would not lose what was theirs, and 3 3 that they would have the same rights as any citizen of the United States. There were many wealthy Mexicans who lived on enormous tracts of land and their haciendas, their ranchos were equal to any southern plantation or northern mansion. The white man, in two days of travel, was astonished with the sheer volume of the property owned by Olivera. He passed acreage filled with timber, water, and good cattle grazing pastures. He envied what the Mexicans created. Given time, he would have more than these local immigrants. One of the Mexicans approached the white man. The Mexican or Indian, their appearances similar to the dirt encrusted stranger that to confuse the two bordered on believable. He noticed the careful strides the brown man took, inching his way forward with the caution of a coyote. The two men stared at each other waiting for the other to initiate the next move. The white man climbed off his horse and waited with the reins in one hand and the other hand on his gun. The horse bowed his head, reaching out to the Mexican as he moved closer. The white man in astonishment moved the horse away from the Mexican or Indian. The horse resisted and then gave way to the pull of his master. “It is a beautiful animal you have, senor,” the brown man said. Julian hesitated, unsure if his ears heard English. The man in front of him was small in stature, but sturdy looking. The surprise was not in the appearance of the brown skin, but in that the man spoke English. Savages did not speak English, he thought. “You speak English?” “Yes, I speak your language. Are you lost senor?” The white man’s silence intrigued the Mexican. The white man didn’t say a word and looking over the landscape, he smiled. 4 4 “This is good land. There is grass for cattle, there seems to be plenty of water for everyone. And there is plenty of deer and other animals.” His words were not directed at the brown man, in front of him, rather, he spoke to someone or something that wasn’t there. “Senor, the land belongs to my jefe. He would be glad to offer you some food and shelter for the night. It is not far from here, maybe a mile. We can walk if your horse is tired.” Julian, noticing the sun caressing the surrounding mountains, accepted the offer and grabbing the reins began to walk beside the brown man. The Mexican’s horse was well muscled and walked with assurance and pride; his tale swatted away the flies with ease. With each step, the white man’s stained, black boots walked on dirt and old cragged ancient rocks that in the fading sunlight offered a small beauty in the overwhelming magnificence of the expanding land.

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