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50 A Face to Meet the Faces The Naming of Peru Juan J. Morales I. Hugging shores, drifting south, we did not find vacant coasts. Natives piloted barges along our course, responding to us with silent awe. We called out commands, lost in currents, and natives became lonely footprints on the land. Toward a river’s mouth, we observed the lone fisherman, anchored in his fear. Out of view, we rowed our skiff to the bank. II. Thelargebeastwanderedthroughourcalmwaterslikeadream.Mysackedfish squirmed against the weaves. I gaped at the hulking form, too gripped to detect the gods nearing from behind. The net freed from my hands when they pulled gloom over my eyes, dragged me across water to their waiting beast, rocking with the waves. III. We coerced patience, manipulated hands to ask the land’s name. We stroked our chins, phrased and pointed to ourselves, and described his new King and Queen perched in a land a stretched sea away. He baffled out words and we resisted our urges to cut him down. Syllables hung in the air. IV. They showed teeth, spoke lagging cues, and offered snarled questions in word strands. With a shining spear, they scraped a pattern like land near my feet. When they pointed, I said my name, Berú, and told them about the river, pelú. When they combined two words into one, it clung to tongues like celebration. Afterfreeingmebackontheshore,theymuscledbacktotheirbeast,leavingme to imagine a return of greater numbers. ...

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