Who hears the song?
In Claudia Llosa’s The Milk of Sorrow, a melody travels from a worker’s voice to a concert piano. Its author makes a different journey.
A song beside a bed
Fausta’s mother sings to her about the sexual violence she endured during Peru’s internal conflict. Fausta stays near her. A tune generally gives a listener some means of anticipating what comes next. Here the next phrase might bring something that a daughter could scarcely bear to hear. Staying for the whole song becomes a small, exacting act of care.
Listen to how much authority the mother keeps over the encounter. She decides where to breathe, which words to sustain, when to leave a space. A witness can attend to that work even when the events she describes lie beyond the witness’s own experience.
The price of a melody
After her mother dies, Fausta takes domestic work to pay for her burial. Her employer Aída, a pianist, offers pearls in exchange for her singing. A pearl can be held in the palm and counted. What unit would measure the making of a tune? The offer feels precise at exactly the point where the two women have the least reason to agree on what has been bought.
At a recital, Fausta hears applause for the piece Aída has made from her melody. Imagine trying to pick out, among those clapping hands, someone who knows where the music came from. Earlier, one listener at a bedside could meet the singer’s eyes. Now an entire audience can honour a piece of music and leave its maker standing alone.
For discussion
What does Fausta know about the applause that no one hearing the music for the first time can know?