The Disappearance of Irene Dos Santos (45 page)
Women who have been readers and brutal critics when necessary: Andrea Bachigalupi Boyle, Ginu Kamani, Mafalda Mascarenhas,
Nell Sullivan, Antonia Van Becker, Swatee Kotwal, Shobhaa De, Lea Rangel Ribeiro, the late Dixie Engesser, the late Frances
Bregman.
Men who get me and my writing, have read for me enthusiastically, and have made crucial observations that helped flesh out
my male characters: Victor Rangel Ribeiro, Sudeep Chakravarti, Remo Fernandes, Maitreya Doshi, Avtar Singh, Akash Timblo,
Cecil Pinto, Apurva Kulkarni, Stan Kugell, Sergio Mascarenhas, Desmond Fernandes.
Milana, who contributed a swimming club membership that helped alleviate writer’s cramp and carpal tunnel syndrome.
Mario, for being my biggest cheerleader and helping to finance the lean periods.
Che, Maximiliano, and Oliver, my doggie foot warmers.
Maria Lionza, irrespective of whether she is fact or fiction.
And Venezuela, my home away from home.
On November 9, 2006, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia-Peoples Army, (-FARC-EP) sent an “Open Letter to the People
of the United States.” It was specifically addressed to several Hollywood producers and actors (Michael Moore, Denzel Washington,
and Oliver Stone) as well as three leftist academics (James Petras, Noam Chomsky, and Angela Davis) and a progressive politician
(Jesse Jackson). The purpose of the open letter was to solicit our support in facilitating an agreement between the U.S. and
Colombian governments and the FARC-EP on exchanging 600 imprisoned guerrillas (including 2 on trial in the U.S.) for 60 rebel-held
prisoners including 3 U.S. counter-insurgency experts.
FARC-EP
Founded in 1964 by two dozen peasant activists, as a means for defending autonomous rural communities from the violent depredations
of the Colombian military and paramilitary, the FARC-EP has grown into a highly organized 20,000-member guerrilla army with
several hundred thousand local militia and supporters, highly influential in over 40 percent of the country. Up until September
11, 2001, the FARC-EP was recognized as a legitimate resistance movement by most of the countries of the European Union, Latin
America, and for several years was in peace negotiations with the Colombian government headed by President Andrés Pastrana.
Prior to 9/11 FARC leaders met with European heads of state to exchange ideas on the peace process.
—James Petras, November 20, 2006
(
http://petras.lahaine.org/articulo.php?p=1684&more=1&c=1
)
In early June 2004 drivers on the Avenida Francisco Farjardo in the city of Caracas witnessed a strange and disturbing sight:
the landmark statue of Maria Lionza, commissioned from Venezuelan sculptor Alejandro Colina, had cracked in two. The torso
of the goddess had fallen backward, leaving her staring helplessly, arms outstretched, at the heavens. Oddly enough, according
to news reports, this occurred a day after authorities announced the completion of restoration treatment. The imposing fifty-four-year-old
monument of reinforced concrete, which normally stands 11.2 meters high, had not been moved for the restoration process, and
was surrounded by scaffolding at the time of the collapse, creating a surreal cagelike effect. According to a BBC news story,
“When Venezuelans awoke on 6 June to find Maria Lionza broken at the waist, interpretations and conspiracy theories abounded.
Some said the goddess had broken in two deliberately in order to warn Venezuelans about the danger of their deeply-divided
nation” (“The Goddess and the President,” BBC, June 21, 2004).
Having grown up in Venezuela, for me this story became the irresistible seed material for a novel.
For centuries, Maria Lionza, a mythological Indian princess/goddess, has captured the imagination of the Venezuelan population,
and the number of her supplicants is estimated to be in the hundreds of thousands. Given strong impetus in the 1950s by dictator
Marcos Perez Jimenez, who made Maria Lionza a symbol of national identity, the cult has been officially recognized and sanctioned
by subsequent democratic governments of Venezuela—even though the existence of Maria Lionza herself has yet to be authenticated
by scholars of the period—and she is still considered to be the patron saint of the nation. The mythical origins of Maria
Lionza, handed down by oral tradition, are lost in time. The version I have given in the novel is an amalgamation of several
of the most popular stories of her origin.
Though believed to have many incarnations, the goddess is generally depicted in two forms: (1) as Yara, naked, riding a tapir
and holding a human pelvis in her upstretched arms; and (2) as Maria, a mestiza Virgin Mary figure wearing a blue mantle over
her head and shoulders. Maria Lionza reigns over her subjects from the Sorte Mountain in the state of Yaracuy along with a
pantheon of deities that includes real and legendary characters from Venezuelan history. Officially known as the Maria Lionza
National Park, Sorte is frequented by large numbers of pilgrims and tourists, particularly on weekends and holidays.
The primary deities in the goddess’s pantheon, which is divided into “courts,” include “El Libertador” Simón Bolívar, the
man who fought for and won the independence of many Latin American countries; “El Negro Felipe,” a black man who is said to
have fought with Bolívar in the Independence Wars; and “El Indio Guaicaipuro,” who is believed to have fought against the
Conquerors at the time of the Conquest. When Maria Lionza, El Negro Felipe, and El Indio Guaicaipuro appear together to mediums,
they are called Las Tres Potencias (the Three Powers), representing the three races that make up the Venezuelan population.
There are numerous other subdeities such as the writer Andrés Bello, and even a notorious criminal known as El Malandro Ismael,
whose veneration is outside the realm of traditional perceptions of “goodness” and “morality.”
In her Indian avatar, Maria Lionza is depicted as the reverse of the most frequently represented image of Simón Bolívar: she
rides the gentle tapir, he rides a stallion; she is nude, he wears an army uniform; she holds a symbol of life (a human pelvis),
he holds a symbol of death (a sword).
Catholicism is the predominant religion of Venezuela, and a majority of Marialionceros are Catholic. Although the Catholic
Church frowns upon the worship of the pagan goddess, it has abandoned efforts to eradicate the cult. Maria Lionza’s devotees
come from all races and classes, but she is especially revered among the poor.
To my knowledge, no Venezuelan radio novela or telenovela has been written specifically about Maria Lionza or her incarnations
to date, which is quite extraordinary, given that she is the emblem of all the hopes and aspirations of Venezuela’s masses.
I myself have used the myth primarily as signifier and anchor in
The Disappearance of Irene Dos Santos.
Kidnappings, forced disappearances, and assassinations orchestrated by revolutionaries, crime bosses, the secret police, or
international mercenaries have long been a part of the Venezuelan story. In 1976, when I was in high school, William Niehaus,
an American businessman and the father of a former schoolmate, was kidnapped by the Grupo de Comando Revolucionario, the guerilla
wing of the Liga Socialista, and held for over three years. Around the same time the charismatic media personality Renny Ottolina,
beloved by the masses, was killed after deciding to run for president as an independent, just three months before the elections.
The crackdown on the drug trade in Colombia has forced much of it across the border, and these days Venezuela is a very dangerous
place to travel. The nexus between drug running and gun purchase by groups such as FARC continues.
The roots of the popular Latin American serial novel extend back to the days of the Cuban “radio lectores,” readers hired
to read social realist novels of the nineteenth century to workers in cigar factories. With the advent of radio was born a
genre of melodrama that depicted social ills in a more popular and less literary format. It was called the culebrón (“snake”)
because of its tendency to go on extending itself as long as the audience for it existed, and it was the precursor of the
telenovela. Not surprisingly, the telenovela’s global export came via Cuban exiles at the end of the 1950s and early 1960s,
many of whose writers and directors fled to Venezuela, Argentina, and Mexico.
It was in Mexico that a new form of serialized storytelling emerged. It was pioneered and developed by Miguel Sabido for Televisa,
where he was vice president for research in the 1970s. The essence of what is known today as the Sabido Method was the use
of the soap opera to educate and encourage social change. Using the classic literary device of character growth, Sabido developed
the process of character transformation in a way that was television-specific and tackled sensitive subjects such as sex,
abortion, family planning, and AIDS in an accessible manner. It was a new communication model that has had enormous global
impact, one that has been adopted and adapted all over the world. Obviously, such a mechanism for influencing the masses can
be a double-edged sword....
Venezuela, one of the world’s major oil-exporting nations which also boasts one of South America’s largest, most abundant
rain forests, has one of the most vibrant cultures I have ever experienced. The country is currently engaged in a fascinating
political experiment, and on this subject it is a country deeply divided. I have met some who are passionately for it and
others who are vehemently against it. I have no idea how it will turn out, but it promises to be a wild ride.
—Margaret Mascarenhas, August 2008
- Maria Lionza is an actual cult figure in Venezuela. How does the goddess Maria Lionza function as a symbol in
The Disappearance of Irene Dos Santos
? - How does the passion fruit vine work as a metaphor in the novel?
- How much of the ethos of Venezuela has the author been able to convey through the lives of her characters? Has it changed your perception of that country?
- How does the author juxtapose magic against craziness, ghosts against hallucinations, lies against truth, prorevolution against antirevolution, socialism against capitalism?
- Are the protagonists of the first eight sections of the novel real, figments of Irene’s imagination, or characters she has written into her radio novelas? All of the above?
- If we live in someone else’s dream/imagination, is our reality as real as that of the dreamer/writer? Is the author suggesting that it is possible to dream something/ someone into existence?
- What does Irene lose and/or gain by becoming “well” and reintegrated into society?
- Is it possible for the South American radio novela format to serve the purpose of promoting social change? If so, why would radio be a more useful tool in this endeavor than television?
- The themes of revolution and resistance—the ongoing battle between the people and their leaders—are integral to the story line of the novel. Among the nine primary characters, Ismael, Consuelo, and Amparo are the most overtly “revolutionary”; Lily, Coromoto, Efraín, and Luz are neutral; Marta is opposed to revolutionary ideology; while Irene appears ambiguous. What might be the author’s intent in representing all these worldviews?
En junio, a principios de de 2004, los conductores en la Avenida Francisco Farjardo en la ciudad de Caracas encontraron una
vista extraña y perturbante: la famosa estatua de Maria Lionza comisionada del escultor venezolano Alejandro Colina, se había
partido en dos. El torso había caído al revés, dejándo la diosa mirando desamparadamente al cielo con los brazos extendidos.
Lo raro es que, según las noticias, ésto ocurrió un día despues de las autoridades anunciar que el processo de la restauración
de la estatua estaba completa. El monumento imponente de 54 años, hecho de concreto reforzado, que normalmente tiene 11.2
metros de alto, no había sido movido durante la restauración. A la hora del derrumbamiento la estatua estaba todavía rodeada
con andamio, creando la impresión surreal como si fuera encerrada en una jaula. Según una de las noticias del BBC, “cuando
los venezolanos se despertaron el 6 de junio para encontrar Maria Lionza partida en la cintura, interpretaciones y teorías
de conspiración abundaron. Algunos dijeron que la diosa había rompido en dos justo para advertir a los venezolanos de los
peligros de una nación profundamente dividida.” (BBC, La diosa y el presidente, 21 de junio de 2004)
Yo pasé los años formativas en Venezuela, y para mí, esta historia se ha convirtido en la material irresistible de una novela.
Por siglos, Maria Lionza, princesa india de mitología local, ha capturado la imaginación de la población venezolana, y el
número de sus supplicantes se estima en los centenares de millares. El ímpetu fuerte en los años 50 dado por el dictador Marcos
Perez Jimenez, hizo de Maria Lionza un símbolo de identidad nacional. El culto ha sido reconocido oficialmente y sancionado
por gobiernos democráticos subsecuentes en Venezuela aunque la existencia de Maria Lionza misma jamás ha sido autenticada
por los académicos del período, la todavía la consideran como santa patrona de la nación. Los orígenes míticos de Maria Lionza,
transmitidos por la tradición oral, se han perdido con el tiempo. La versión descrito en esta novela es una amalgamación de
las varias historias populares sobre su origen.
Aunque tiene muchas encarnaciones, la diosa generalmente aparece en dos formas: (1) como Yara, desnuda, montado sobre un tapir,
sosteniendo en los brazos una pelvis humana; (2) como Maria, una imágen de la Virgen de los Mestizos, con una capa azul cubriendo
la cabeza y los hombros. Maria Lionza reina sobre sus súbditos desde la montaña Sorte en el Estado de Yaracuy junto con su
panteón de deidades, incluyendo personajes verdaderos y legendarios en la historia venezolana. Conocido oficialmente como
el Parque Nacional de Maria Lionza, Sorte es frecuentado por una gran cantidad de peregrinos y turistas, particularmente los
fines de semana y los días de fiesta.
