Fruit of the Drunken Tree

Water appears as a significant motif in the form of extreme weather events that involve heat, drought, and flooding, as well as in more personal contexts as the experience of thirst, drowning, quenching, and washing. Like the motif of the gaze, the motif of water is multifaceted, carrying different meanings depending on the context.

When Chula and Cassandra drench themselves in water in order to cool off during the heat wave in El Salado, water appears as a soothing balm. When the drought hits Bogotá and the city begins rationing water, it appears as a coveted and corrupting currency that leads to conflict and stress. The drought, however, also marks a period of growing intimacy between the Santiagos and Petrona as coping with the challenge of the apagones brings them closer together. After the attempted kidnapping of Chula and Cassandra, the abduction of Papá, and the ensuing chaos, flooding begins, and water is portrayed as a violent force.

Water is invoked figuratively in emotional contexts as well. When Petrona meets Gorrión, she describes feeling “quenched” by his gaze (66), and when Chula is locked in the trunk of her abductor’s car, she feels she is “drowning” (219). Even in mundane contexts, water carries emotional significance. When Chula observes the tap water in L.A., she marvels at the “perfect cylinder, silver-edged and transparent” (267) of water that flows from the tap, and water becomes a symbol of safety and comfort in her new country. 

Salt appears in the first pages of the novel and immediately assumes symbolic significance. As Chula composes a letter to Petrona from her new home in L.A., she finds herself writing “paragraph after paragraph about salt, like [she] was crazy” (3) because she feels unable express directly the thoughts, feelings, and questions that truly hound her. Salt therefore becomes a placeholder or euphemism for the emotions of Chula’s post-traumatic stress. In the final chapter of the novel, when Petrona reads the letter Chula wrote in the opening chapter, she understands that “[s]alt [is] Chula’s word for the aftershock” (296).

Toward the end of the novel, Chula describes the genesis of her obsession with salt, revealing how it took on symbolic significance for her. During her escape from Colombia with Mamá and Cassandra, Chula starts stealing salt packets from restaurants, and she tastes the salt whenever she feels “hungry” (260). This compulsion begins during their stop in Venezuela and resumes after they have settled in California. Living close to the ocean furthers her obsession with salt. After a visit to the beach in L.A., Chula recalls, “sea salt coated the flesh of my lips, my hair, my lashes” (281). She continues stealing salt packets from restaurants, explaining that “[t]he salt was something I could feel” (281). As Chula copes with post-traumatic stress—what Petrona calls “aftershock”—she is unable to express herself, and the taste of salt becomes a symbolic reminder of the drama that changed her life.

Outside of this symbolic discussion of salt, there are two seemingly unconnected references to salt that carry significance in the novel. Early in the novel, Mamá refers to corrupt politicians as “salt statues” (16) and the invasión where Abuela lives is “El Salado,” which refers to a nearby salt mine. Though not directly related to Chula’s post-traumatic obsession with salt, these two references solidify the association of salt with violence and hardship.