Cocuyo Lights the Way: A Diary from 1493 to 1496

By Danielle Smith-Llera and Juan M. Moreno

Created in collaboration with the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of the American Latino, Nuestras Voces shares inspiring Latino stories.

In the summer of 1493, eleven-year-old Cocuyo is eager to find her place within her Taíno community on the island of Quisqueya. But in less than a year, her home, her family and friends, and her daily life will be forever changed by the arrival of Europeans. As Cocuyo learns more and more about the strangers who arrive by sea—and what they want from Quisqueya and its people—she looks for ways to help her community. At first, the Taíno try to befriend the strangers, but later they must protect themselves from invasion, disease, and enslavement. As the Taíno resist and survive, Cocuyo becomes determined to help preserve the culture that she loves. In diary format, the Nuestras Voces series profiles inspiring characters and honors the joys, challenges, and outcomes of Latino experiences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Capstone Young Readers
• Release date: Jan 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781669012849

Danielle Smith-Llera

Danielle Smith-Llera grew up in coastal Virginia, hearing unforgettable tales about her Mexican and Irish ancestors. She first moved overseas to teach in international schools in Hungary and Brazil. Life in the U.S. Foreign Service has taken her around the world to live in India, Jamaica, Romania, Belgium, the United Kingdom, and Washington, DC. She loves sharing stories—fiction, nonfiction, and a mixture of both—in classrooms, museum exhibits, and, of course, books.

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1493

Late June

I must share this good news! Far from our village, in this hillside cave, no one can call me silly for talking to my dog—especially not my big brother Macu. He always says to me, Cocuyo, you’re too little to do anything except get in the way!

A dog standing with his tongue out.

You listen so patiently, Xingu. Your eyes and wagging tail tell me what you’re feeling. This is our favorite place on the island to think and make plans, isn’t it? It’s my ancestors’ favorite place too.

They made those drawings on the walls long ago. But they are still here to watch over us. I wonder if they are listening now.

Our village will host an areyto, a special dance ceremony! Guests from Taíno chiefdoms across Quisqueya will arrive in a few moons. Their canoas will crowd the banks of the Bajabonico River.

Xingu, I saw something so exciting. My aracoel—the wisest person in the whole village—is carving something special out of wood. It has four feet, a long back, and a face like you! It’s a duho. Only someone as special as my grandmother can make one. And only someone very important can sit there. We must have a very special guest coming!

I’ve got a special job to do too. My bibi told me, Cocuyo, you’re old enough to make a special Taíno food all by yourself. You know what that is, Xingu? Cassava bread. We’ll need to prepare so much for the areyto. Crispy cassava bread—even the word crunches in my mouth!

1493

Mid-July

Do you want to try my bread, Xingu? I dug up the long cassava roots from their mounds of soil. These conucos keep the plants moist, and they grow so quickly!

Bibi gave me a carved stone to bury in the cassava field. The triangular sculpture carved with a face is a gift for Mother Nature. We call her Atabey. We must never accept her gifts without giving something back.

All my life, I have watched the women of my village make our bread. They chat and laugh. But now I know it’s serious work.

First, I cut away the cassava root’s tough brown skin with a stone blade. Then, I grated the white root against the sharp stones of the guayo.

The next step made me so nervous. Bibi watched closely as I pushed the pulp into a tube woven like a basket. By stretching it, I squeezed out the cassava’s poisonous liquid. But it won’t be thrown away. The village fishermen will pour it into the river water to stun fish. They float to the surface and are easy to catch.

Next, I spread the pulp out in the sun. After it dried, I pounded it into flour. Then, I added water to make a dough and pressed out thin discs. On a flat clay buren set over the fire, the bread turned crisp and golden.

What will Macu say when I surprise him with my new skill? He could pack my bread in his canoe when he paddles away with the other men and their fishing nets and spears. No insects or mold can spoil it, even during journeys lasting many moons. Our cassava bread is as sturdy as we Taíno are!

1493

Mid-July, a Few Days Later

It’s cozy back home in our round bohío. But so many aunts, uncles, cousins, and relatives sharing a home means many listening ears, Xingu. Up here on the rocks, no one will hear me tell you what the village elders were talking about!

My friend Dajao and I were playing a seed toss game near the cacique’s caney. We were born on the same day. But he runs around with so much energy that he often feels like my little brother.

Adults were talking excitedly on the cacique’s porch. I saw Aracoel with the group. She sat with her arms crossed, listening. The conversation was about the areyto, of course! Guests will be coming from all across the island.

Suddenly, I heard a name that made me forget the seed game—Anacaona, the powerful wife of the cacique of Maguana province. Anacaona means golden flower.

Everyone knows Anacaona. At least, we feel like we do. She writes ballads—poems that tell stories about our ancestors. Her poems spread across the island like pollen blown by the breeze!

Anacaona is really coming to our village? Will she taste my cassava bread?

Aracoel had left the porch and was suddenly standing next