Maria Virginia Farinango
Delacorte, 2011
grades 7-up
Quechua
Though normally dedicated to the
consumption of luxury goods, The New York Times
Magazine supplement (April
26, 2011) featured an article by Barbara Ehrenreich about union organizing
efforts among nannies and other domestic workers in New York City. Ehrenreich,
whose own experience as a low-wage worker for a housecleaning service, is
chronicled in the classic and highly recommended Nickel & Dimed:
On (Not) Getting By in America, profiles labor organizer Ai-Jen Poo, who in
turn describes the life of one worker from Jamaica:
Alice had been lured to this country
at age 16 with the promise that she would be able to go to school while working
as a live-in nanny and housekeeper. Once she arrived, however, she found that
school was not on the agenda—Alice’s domestic duties filled her time from early
morning till late at night—nor, according to Poo, did she ever see a paycheck.
The couple who employed her claimed they were sending her wages straight home
to her parents, and since they controlled her access to mail, both incoming and
outgoing, she had no way of finding out that no money was sent. After working
without pay for 16 years, and cut off from her parents, who thought she had
abandoned them, Alice escaped from her “employers” with help from one of their
three young children. (“The Nannies’ Norma Rae: Ai-jen Poo Fights for Domestic
Workers’ Rights”)
This story is depressingly familiar
to readers of Laura Resau’s novel based on a true story, The Queen of Water,
and it highlights the fact that what happened to her co-author Maria Virginia
Farinango in Ecuador in the 1980s is happening today. In the United States. And
it will continue to happen if workers do not have the right to organize and if
the government at all levels refuses to defend the poor and powerless against
the well-heeled, whose donations fill their campaign coffers.
Like many Indigenous children in
Ecuador, seven-year-old Virginia Farinango was sent by her impoverished parents
to work for a Mestizo family that abused her and broke their promise to pay her
and to give her an education. However, the lively and ambitious girl overcame
her feelings of inferiority and learned to read, then secretly borrowed the
textbooks of her masters, both teachers, to teach herself science and history.
Despite the wife’s regular beatings and the husband’s sexual advances, Virginia
eventually escaped their household, returned to her family, and worked her way
through high school and to a better life.
Resau does a masterful job of giving
her collaborator’s story shape and dramatic tension. Farinango doesn’t idealize
her life before being sent to work as a servant, but readers see the strength
and independence that she gains while growing up in a poor Indigenous community.
Her masters are portrayed as complex people with their own problems, and
Virginia’s attachment to the two boys in her care make it all the more poignant
when she must make the choice to stay or run away. The collaboration between
Farinango and Resau has resulted in a powerful, well-paced story that will
appeal to teen and adults readers alike, and is certain to generate lively
discussion in classrooms and book clubs. Highly recommended.
— Lyn Miller-Lachmann
(published 5/3/13)
(published 5/3/13)
I'd be curious to know what you think of Laura Resau's What the Moon Saw. In a two month visit to her grandparent's in a remote village near Oaxaca, Clara Luna (the 13 y.o. main character) becomes a healer and has many "magical" and religious experiences. It felt like the indigenous peoples' religion and customs were Americanized, i.e. abbreviated from what might normally take many years of study and teaching into one summer. Cultural appropriation or ? Please let me know your thoughts. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteHi, Joan. Thanks for writing. We haven't read WHAT THE MOON SAW, so can't comment on it. But it looks like something we might want to read. Thanks for bringing it to our attention.
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