The Firefly Letters (12 page)

to the hidden plans

of slaves.

There is always

one dream or another,

a scheme to escape

and flee

into the wilderness

to live

without chains.

Maps of the roads

to wild places

are the reason

that we are not allowed

to learn

how to read.

My secret plan

is working.

Fredrika has helped me smuggle

all my lace and embroidery

out of the house,

one piece of cloth at a time.

As I placed the pillowcases

and shawls and collars and ruffles

in Fredrika's hands,

the folds of cloth stirred

in the sea breeze,

moving with a sigh

like wings.

On my last evening in Elena's home,

we climb up to the roof

to find shapes in clouds.

Cecilia is not with us.

She has an appointment,

so Elena and I have to depend

on our own ability to communicate

in a crazy mixture of English and Spanish

and the movements of our eyes

and our hands.

I believe we finally

understand each other

in our own mixed-up way.

I watch the fireflies in my mind

while I walk beneath a coppery sun

to the office

of the Magistrate.

My heart drums with gratitude.

My thoughts sing

with hope.

Fifteen gold dollars

was the amount Fredrika obtained

by selling all the fancy pearl-studded,

jewel-encrusted, lace-edged, ruffled folds

of embroidered cloth

that I thought Elena was keeping

for her own hope chest

so she could run away

and elope.

I assumed she was in love,

but as it turns out

her love was meant

for my child.

Fifteen gold dollars

is the price of liberty

for an unborn baby,

my
baby,

a gift

so amazing,

the future,

this hope

I can share!

I think of the ladies in Europe

drinking hot tea with sugar.

Do they ever wonder

about the slaves

who chop the cane

that sweetens their tea?

How will they know

unless someone travels

and writes

about the tales

told by brave children

like Elena

and courageous mothers

like Cecilia?

The hope chest is empty now,

but tonight I will begin

to fill it again.

I will stitch new flowers

beneath the moon

that shines in

through my window,

flying past the bars

along with fireflies

and hope.

I no longer cover my head.

I think of the moonlight

as friendly

and safe.

 

 

 

Fredrika Bremer (1801–1865) was Sweden's first woman novelist and one of the world's earliest advocates of equal rights for women. Her travel books and stories about the daily lives of ordinary women influenced Victorian English literature and helped obtain partial voting rights for Swedish women as early as the 1860s. In 1854, deeply troubled by the Crimean War, Bremer published a historic peace document in newspapers all over the world, imploring women of all countries to unite in praying for peace and actively caring for the sick and the poor, especially children.

Bremer's Cuban letters, diaries, and sketches from her three-month visit in 1851 comprise the most complete known record of rural daily life on the island at that time. She described Cecilia, her young African-born translator, with admiration, affection, and concern. Together, they roamed the countryside, interviewing
slaves, free blacks, and poor whites. During school visits, Bremer argued in favor of equal education for girls. In church, she kneeled in back, with the slaves.

Inspired by Bremer's poetic descriptions of tropical farms and winter sun, tens of thousands of Swedish immigrants moved to Cuba. In Havana, on the corner of Obrapía and Los Oficios, a plaque commemorates Fredrika Bremer's Cuban journey.

Nearly all the events described in this book are documented in Fredrika Bremer's letters and diaries, but Elena is a fictional character, and the hope chest is imaginary.

Cecilia's husband was mentioned but not named or described in Bremer's letters. I have chosen to call him Beni, and to imagine that he was a skilled horseman.

Bremer wrote that Cecilia was eight years old when she was taken to Cuba from Africa, and that she said she still missed her mother. I have imagined Cecilia's childhood memories and her emotional response to the weeks she spent with Fredrika roaming the countryside, visiting the homes of freed slaves, and rescuing fireflies.