We came to a metal gate with the word MAÑANA on it. A second gate was open, and as we drove past, I could see that it said GRANJA.
We drove down a long dirt road. “This is the farm,” Theo said.
The trees were about twice the height of the workers who tended them. For grooming the trees, the men used flat swords that were over a foot long.
“They’re pruning the trees,” Theo informed me.
“What do you call the tool they’re using?” I asked.
“A machete.”
“I thought those were used for killing people,” I said.
“Sí, I am told they are good for that, too.”
Finally, Theo pulled up to the main house of Granja Mañana. “Mi casa,” Theo said.
Theo’s casa was as big as a small hotel. It was two epic stories, both a faded yellow with gray stonework around the windows and arches. The ground floor had a blue-and-white tiled porch, the second level, a series of sociable stone balconies, and the roof was covered in festive terra-cotta tiles. The house was undeniably massive but not, to my eye, unfriendly.
When I got out of the truck, Theo’s mother was standing on the porch. She was wearing a white blouse, a coral necklace, and a khaki skirt, and her dark brown hair grew past her waist. She said something to Theo in Spanish and then she hugged him as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks. (It turned out that he’d only been gone a day.)
“Mama, this is Anya Barnum,” Theo introduced me.
Theo’s mother hugged me. “Welcome,” she said. “Welcome, Anya. You are my niece Sophia’s friend here to learn about cacao farming?”
“Yes. Thank you for having me.”
She looked at me, shook her head, clucked something else in Spanish to Theo, and shook her head again. She looped her arm through mine and escorted me inside.
The house was even more colorful indoors. All the furniture was in dark wood but the walls and the pillows and the rugs were in every hue of the rainbow. Over the mantel was an almost childish painting of what I thought at the time was the Virgin Mary in a field of red roses. (I would later learn that this depiction of the Virgin is known as Our Lady of Guadalupe.) There were several thick blue glass vases with orchids in them. (The orchids were native to the orchard. My own nana would have loved them.) A spiral staircase in blue-and-white tiles like those on the porch took up the center of the main room. It was a lot to take in, though I imagine it wasn’t the decor but the humidity and the fact that I hadn’t eaten in so long that made me feel light-headed.
“Call me Luz,” Theo’s mother said.
“Luz,” I said. “I’m…” I’d had some practice fainting in the last several weeks, and I could feel myself starting to slip under. I tried to edge toward one of the sofas so that my head wouldn’t end up slamming against those picturesque, though let’s face it, pretty unforgiving-looking tiles. I began to fall backward. I saw Theo running toward me, but there wasn’t time. As I was about to hit the floor, I landed in someone’s arms.
I looked up. Above me was a very square face with a big chin and a wide nose. His eyes were light brown and very serious, and his mouth was stern somehow. He had stubble enough that it could reasonably be called a beard, and extremely thick eyebrows. “Are you hurt?” he asked in Spanish, though somehow I knew what he was saying. His voice was deep and sounded the way an oak tree might sound if it could talk.
“No. I just need to lie down,” I said. “Thank you for catching me. Who are you, by the way?”
I heard Theo sigh heavily. “That is my brother, Castillo, Anya.”
Luz shouted instructions and next thing I knew I was installed in a bedroom on the second floor.
When I awoke the next morning, a pretty girl with thick hair like my sister’s was seated by my bed. The girl looked nearly identical to Luz, only twenty or so years younger. “Oh good,” she said. “You’re awake. Mama wanted us to watch you in case you took a turn for the worse and we needed to take you to the hospital. She thinks you’re probably just malnourished and unaccustomed to the humidity. She says you will live. Stupid Theo. He should have taken you for lunch. We all yelled at him—‘Theo, what kind of host are you?’—and now he feels pretty awful. He wanted to come in here to apologize to you but Mama is traditional. No boys in the girls’ rooms. Even grownups. I’m twenty-three.” I had thought she was so much younger. “You’re nineteen, right? You look like a baby! Back to Theo. He never thinks about anyone but himself because he is the baby of the family and ridiculous and we spoil him terribly. It’s no use yelling at him really. I’m Luna, by the way.” She paused to offer me her hand to shake. Luna and Theo were both fast talkers. “You’re not bad-looking but you need a better haircut.”
I self-consciously clutched at my hair.
“I can do it for you later if you want. I’m very artistic and I’m good with my hands.”
At that moment, two older women entered the room behind Luna. They looked alike except the first was old and the second was really, really old. I realized they must be the grandmother and great-grandmother that Theo had mentioned in the truck. The older of the two, Theo’s nana, pushed a ceramic mug into my hands. “Drink,” she said. When she smiled at me, I could see she was missing one of her top teeth.
I took the mug. The beverage was brown with a reddish hue, and thick like wet cement. I didn’t want to be rude to my hosts, but the substance didn’t look all that promising.
“Drink, drink,” Theo’s nana repeated. “You feel better.” The two older women and Luna were staring at me in anticipation.
I raised the mug, then set it down. “What is it?” I asked.
Luna laughed at me. “It’s only hot chocolate.”
I reported that I had had my share of hot chocolate.
“Not like this,” Luna assured me.
I took a cautious sip and then a larger one. Indeed, it wasn’t like any hot chocolate I had had before. It was spicy and not all that sweet. Cinnamon was involved but also something else. Paprika, maybe? And did I detect something citrusy? I drank the rest of the cup. “What’s in this?” I asked.
Bisabuela shook her head.
“Secreto de familia,” Abuela said.
I didn’t know much Spanish, but I certainly understood about family secrets.
Bisabuela took the mug from me, and then the grandmothers were gone. I sat up in bed. I was already feeling better and I told Luna so.
“It’s the chocolate,” she said. “It’s a health drink.”
I had heard chocolate called many things in my lifetime but never a “health drink.”
“Nana says it’s an ancient Aztec recipe. They used to give it and nothing else to the soldiers before they went out to battle.” Then she told me that if I was interested I should ask one of the older women or Theo, who was interested in all that chocolate folklore.
“Is it folklore or is it fact?” I asked.
“A little of both,” she said. “Come, Anya, I put some clothes for you in the closet.”
She pointed me in the direction of the shower. Wanting to be a good houseguest, I asked her if there were any water restrictions. Luna made a face. “No, Anya,” she said patiently, “we do live in a rain forest.”
In the afternoon, Theo took me on a tour of their farm. He showed me the huge nurseries where they grew the cacao saplings, and the open-air buildings that were used to store the wooden boxes where they would ferment the mature beans, and on the sunniest side of the plantation, the patios that were used to dry out the beans before they were sold. We went out to the orchard last. It was quite shady and moist, as it was located under a rain forest canopy. Theo told me that cacao required both the shade and the moisture of the rain forest to grow. Obviously, I had never been in a cacao orchard and I had certainly never seen a cacao pod up close. Some of the cacao leaves were purplish but many had begun to change to green. Tiny white blossoms with pinkish centers grew in clusters along the branches. “Cacao is one of the only plants with flowers and fruits at the same time,” Theo informed me. The pods themselves were slightly smaller than the palm of my hand, but the thing that surprised me the most was their color. I’d always known chocolate as brown, but some of the cacao pods were maroon, almost purple, and others were gold and yellow and orange. They looked fantastical to me. Magical, I suppose. I wished Natty could see them, and for a second, I wondered if I should have tried to arrange for her to come out here with me. Of course, that would have been impossible for many reasons. “They’re so pretty,” I couldn’t help but say.