A Sorority of Angels (3 page)

Seven women from the Shaba/Alise international social gathered at six o’clock that next Thursday at Laura’s apartment to meet then go out to dinner, a procedure for an ongoing friendship. They agreed to the purpose of their new coalition and would eventually add prospects; several committed to participate, but at another time. Successive meetings for the seven would include continuing discussions and strategies to help towards ending poverty, hunger, and advocating peace.

They all acknowledged reality overwhelmed success – to try to make inroads without timetables, no evaluations. Effort was expected, but failure anticipated; decent women with honorable motives to initiate from their influential positions, to perform to the best of their ability, within their capability, to utilize persuasive powers, connections, logic, common sense, personal pleas, anything to make a difference no matter how small.

Laura was prepared, loaded with facts.

She presented a synopsis of social and political policies and problems of the countries present.

Towards meeting’s end, Laura reached for a red plastic shopping bag.

“As in most organizations with goals, it’s important to have a unity symbol, a symbol to remind us of our commitment to humanity and to each other, to help give us strength and a reaffirmation when doubt lingers – a camaraderie symbol as a sorority pin.” She removed seven blue velvet jewelry cases from the bag and passed them out. “Don’t open them yet.” Finished distributing, she opened hers.

Inside displayed a necklace: a gold chain holding a gold heart about an inch in size, on the heart a raised outline of angel wings. On the left side, a heel with an arrow in it, a beautiful piece of jewelry. As Laura walked among them, their expressions indicated approval.

“This is the Achilles Heart symbol of our newborn international sorority. The heart and angel wings represent love, caring, and strength. The heel and arrow symbolize weakness, a man’s weakness. Why a man? Because, unfortunately, they still run the world. If unfamiliar with the ten-year Trojan War and Homer’s Iliad, Achilles was a mighty Greek warrior defeated only through his heel, his weakness. When you open, put on the Achilles Heart. I ask that you stand one by one and repeat this vow – This is the symbol of my commitment within my capabilities for humanity. Shaba, let’s start with you.”

Shaba stood first. Then Pilar, Alise, Jasmine, Asmir, and Kim followed then Laura.

That is how this sorority, these seven angels of hunger and poverty began with commendable missions and sincere and honorable intentions.

What they encountered, what happened to each is almost unbelievable.

This story can unfold in various ways.

I could continue with what happened when Laura came to Washington to involve me, or begin with one of the others.

Let’s save me for later and continue with Pilar.

BOOK OF PILAR

“If all men were just, there would be no need of valor.”
Agesilaus [444 - 400 BC]

Two weeks after the initial meeting –

The year in New York had been lonely for Pilar deLorenzo. With newfound friends, the past few weeks filled with interest and stimulation, a member of a sorority, a chance for companionship and conversation with women of common interest and work – more important, six new friends.

For Pilar, the past month settled mire and pall of tragedy, beginning to feel initial stages of independence.

Pilar married Carlos when attending Buenos Aires University and two years after her Miss Argentina title. A strong, dominant, wealthy but gentle father protected her and catered to every whim. Her mother died of leukemia when Pilar was six, an only child and pride and joy in her father’s life. Pilar regretted he died the year before she won the Miss Argentina title. Then, also, tragedy of losing a vital person in her life affected her. Then the title came, and diversion.

Then she met Carlos, to give her life. She devoted to Carlos, five years older, finding in him many characteristics lost with her father’s passing.

With strong male authority, Pilar never had a need except for the period between her father and Carlos to think independently. Her college education programmed her future for the next three years. Her title’s schedule forced her to leave school for a year. The decision to marry Carlos was her first major independent decision.

She loved Carlos.

He fulfilled every need and desire.

His loss left a void she felt incapable bridging, wouldn’t allow herself to cross the bridge.

Associating with Laura and the others meant a leap forward towards closing the gap, a foothold on independent action. The Achilles Heart necklace turned into an important accessory, a crutch. When her thinking drifted negative, she found comfort by holding and rubbing the heart and raised heel.

Pilar almost emerged from grief. On the horizon waited the new Pilar deLorenzo – a distance to travel to get there.

Children tempered her loneliness, devoted to them keeping busy and diverted with their constant needs and demands. She lived absent friends, a date, and a lover. She suppressed any need to love a man again. People at work assumed her a cold person, snobbish.

She wore her grief and attitude with every change of clothing.

Ambassador Estaban acted fatherly. The President entrusted her in his care. Estaban extended many invitations to attend United Nations functions with him and his wife; invitations for dinner at his home; to other socials. Pilar refused them all using her children as excuse.

Her housekeeper, Esmeralda, proved invaluable. She hastened the children – Andres, Sorel, and Roberto – to school in the morning and cared for them after school, all homework completed before Pilar arrived home.

Esmeralda, a longtime member of Pilar’s family, joined Pilar and Carlos after their first child, Andres, was born. She raised Pilar and raises her children. Their relationship exceeded employer/employee. Esmeralda was family. In her sixties, short, and slightly plump, she expanded a lifetime with Pilar’s family. Pilar benefited from Esmeralda’s energies, treating Pilar as a daughter.

Pilar’s children referred to her as Aunt Esmeralda, a strict disciplinarian endowed with softness and love for them. Esmeralda lacked formal education but wise and understanding that Pilar was their mother. She never allowed the children to forget that and careful never to overrule Pilar in a disciplinary action. Esmeralda and Pilar shared mutual respect.

Esmeralda understood Pilar’s grief. She grieved with her at first, as a mother then never lingered on the past’s tragedies. Think of the good times served as her motto. She viewed Pilar like a sentry as she watched her deteriorate socially, trying often in vain to offer motherly advice because in her heart Pilar remained the child she raised.

As the jet headed for (Ezeiza) Ministro Pistarini International Airport in Buenos Aires, Pilar grew impatient to get there, to put the long trip behind.

Buenos Aires was home.

Argentina was home.

Pilar escaped tragedy; ran to minimize the aftermath; wrestled to accept the price she paid for Argentina’s struggle to change to a new democracy that made her a widow; feeling she made the ultimate sacrifice; deprived of the man she loved; her children deprived of their father. Her agony cemented permanently in that democratic cornerstone.

Pilar refused to accept her fate of suffering, asking herself a thousand times – “Why me? Was making Argentina a better country worth my suffering and sacrifice?”

Only her national pride offered solace, justification for sacrifice.

A year passed.

How would she find things?

How would she feel? Would she return to New York?

What could keep her in Argentina?

How was Carlos’s family, his older sister, Marisa and younger brother, Tomayo?

Tomayo pleaded for her to stay and wanted to care for her and the children.

How was Uncle Rafael, the President?

As she headed closer to Argentina, memories widened as her life, family, friends, and places surged in review. New York slowly dissolved into yesterday. Argentina had been yesterday, now tomorrow.

Everything evolved to a time for looking ahead, for expectation, to stand proud and independent, a time to refurbish her attitudes and thoughts, and a time to remember, a time to go home.

Buenos Aires stretched out beneath her, a sprawling city of over three million citizens. Its Greater Metropolitan Area with over thirteen million people in a country of over forty million, 95% descended from Spanish, Italian, and other European immigrants; a panoramic city sweeping southwest from Rio de la Plata towards the fertile pampas that extended five hundred miles to the Andes; resembling capitals of Western Europe.

Her family being last to deplane, Pilar wondered if her uncertainty caused the delay. The plane held the last link to yesterday.

By the time a porter assembled their luggage and a perfunctory Customs check due to her diplomatic status, other passengers dispersed, some for waiting visitors. Pilar felt no hurry, notifying no one of her arrival or schedule although, without her knowledge, Ambassador Estaban sent specifics to her uncle.

Her return should be insignificant with no one there to greet her family.

At the other end of Customs, a man waved frantic for their attention. Andres noticed and thought he recognized him. He tugged at Pilar’s arm.

“Mother, isn’t that Uncle Tomayo?”

Pilar turned alert, excited.

“Where?”

Pilar saw him. Her face lit with excitement banishing fears, lifted on toes, and waved back with enthusiasm as tears filled her eyes. Home felt more sensitive than realized.

Tomayo’s waves increased tempo knowing Pilar saw him.

An expressionless man stood apart from Tomayo; remaining visitors readied to leave the waiting area.

When they cleared Customs, Esmeralda gathered the children. Pilar wiped traces of happy tears and strode faster towards Tomayo with a broad smile, flung into his arms, and kissed him embracing hard.

“I’m so happy to see you.”

“I thought you missed the plane.”

The lump in his throat stilled his tongue; stepped back to look at her, holding her hands. She looked at him the same. The joy of meeting overwhelmed. Tomayo looked over her shoulder to the children then hugged and kissed each. He greeted Esmeralda.

The other man, in his late fifties, wore a double-breasted gray striped suit with a red patterned silk tie and rimless glasses. He approached Pilar.

“Mrs. deLorenzo?”

Pilar turned to the voice with an expression of no recognition; never saw him before. “Yes?”

“Welcome back to Argentina.” He clicked his heels and bowed. “I extend to you President Rafael deLorenzo’s compliments. I am Klaus Steinerman his senior advisor.”

She heard about him without forming an opinion of the man, and wondered how he knew of her arrival.

“Thank you for being here.”

She extended her hand. He shook it politely once.

“I regret your uncle’s absence. He meets with foreign dignitaries.”

“I can appreciate that. How is he?”

“Splendid, in excellent health. He would like to know if you are going to your apartment or to a hotel if staying in Buenos Aires.”

“I’m opening the apartment again. We’ll stay there for this week. My plans after that remain indefinite.”

“The President extends an invitation before you make plans. He desires for you and the children to stay with him at the country estate for a week or more, impatient to see you and the children.”

Pilar loved her Uncle Rafael the brother of Carlos’s father. She admired and respected him, an important member of her past and family.

“Please tell my uncle I’m delighted and that I missed him.”

Steinerman nodded. “I am at your service. In Buenos Aires or anywhere in Argentina call me, anything at all.” He handed his card to Pilar. “I provided a limousine for your use.” He turned and snapped his fingers.

A chauffeur in gray uniform and black boots approached smartly towards him, impeccably dressed, boots glowing. His blonde hair and blue eyes indicated a first generation descendant of Germans who flooded Argentina during and after World War II.

“This is Guenther. He is at your disposal during your stay.”

Steinerman pointed to the luggage and Guenther hastened to push the luggage cart to the limousine ahead of the porter, who complained about losing a tip.

“Mrs. deLorenzo, one car is insufficient with your luggage. You may have mine. I’ll order a taxi.” He looked gracious.

“That’s considerate of you.”

“I’ll ask the President to call you at your apartment today.”

“No, the phones have to be reconnected. Please say I will call him tomorrow. I need today to get organized and settled with the children.”

“I’m certain that’s acceptable to the President.”

“Can I reach him in Neuquen Province, or shall I call at Casa Rosada?”

“Tomorrow you can reach him at the palace. He leaves for the retreat in four days. The retreat in Neuquen Province is no longer used. I’ll provide you with all particulars later.”

Tomayo came over holding Sorel’s hand. Andres, Roberto, and Esmeralda followed.

“Mr. Steinerman, this is my brother-in-law, Tomayo deLorenzo.”

They looked at each other coldly. Neither made a motion to shake hands.

“We met before,” Tomayo said.

“Goodbye, Mrs. deLorenzo. Again, welcome home.”

Steinerman left with a practiced gait and rigid posture.

“Brrr,” shivered Pilar hugging her body. “What a cold man. How could Uncle Rafael have him around?”

Tomayo’s eyes followed Steinerman with disdain.

“When we have time to talk, I’ll update you. Forget him now. Esmeralda, take the children to the car.”

“Tomayo, come with us.”

“I can’t. I must return to the plant. But we can meet tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow it is. Ask me out to dinner.”

“Mrs. deLorenzo may I have the honor and pleasure of your presence at dinner? I will simply die if you refuse me.”