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Josefina Marmanillo lived. Josefina was a slave woman who worked on a cotton farm in a coastal valley south of Lima. Known to all as Doña Pepa the morena , she spent long days in the farmhouse kitchen kneading, pounding, peeling, and slicing with her big wrinkled hands. And even in the strongest desert heat, she never failed to sing while she worked. She would stop only to laugh when one of the children of the house sneaked in to steal her scrumptious sweets.
    One day, while working in the kitchen, a weakness overcame her. Later, she noticed her chores took longer to do. And soon, even the simplest task became impossible. Her cheerful laugh was silenced. And as her arms became paralyzed, her master freed her. For so many years Doña Pepa had thrived on caring for all the people that delighted in her wonderful cooking and baking. Now she was crippled.
    That October, when Doña Pepa heard about el Señor de los Milagros and the procession that was to be held in His honor, her hopes soared, and she boarded a ship bound for the capital city. The morena believed that if she joined the religious caravan and followed the Christ’s bier on her knees as a sacrifice to the Lord of Miracles, she might be cured.
    It was a chilly day that October when the freed slave arrived in Lima. Above the city hovered the garúa , a damp, cold mist that blocked the sun. The city looked as mournful as the procession itself. Doña Pepa looked at the moreno Christ from the distance, then fell to her knees and joined the followers. She found herself surrounded by others who, like her, had placed their hopes in the Lord of Miracles. Enveloped by the soothing rhythm of continuous prayer, she accompanied the painting of Christ through long, cobblestone streets and hard dirt roads, until her long skirt was torn and her knees bled. She endured the pain for many long hours, and just as she felt she could not take any more, a tingling sensation suddenly returned to her fingertips. It crept up past her elbows, then went to her shoulders. Had her prayers been answered? Slowly, she clasped her hands together, then she pinched her forearms. She could move her arms andhands again! She fell to the ground and wept, for the moreno Christ had heard her.
    â€œAy, Señor de los Milagros,” she whispered. “Whatever you ask of me, I shall do.”
    Doña Pepa spent the next few weeks trying to think of a way she could thank the Lord of Miracles. The answer finally came to her in a dream. She dreamed of orange-blossom honey perfumed with lemons and laced with aniseed. When she woke up the next morning, she ran to her tiny kitchen and invented a luscious nougat candy. As soon as it was ready, she filled the tray with the sweet confection and rushed to the courtyard of the moreno Christ’s shrine where the poor gathered. There, she gave nougat to each man, woman, and child. At first, she told her story to all who asked her why she did this. Then she retold it to all who would listen. It is said that every October until her death, Doña Pepa baked large trays of the golden delicacy to feed to the needy. And as she told her story, she offered them hope for a miracle of their own.
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    Mamá said as she finished her story, “You know, my dear Josefa, Lima has witnessed hundreds of processions for the Lord of Miracles since they started in 1687. Year after year, you’ve seen how hundreds of thousands ofbelievers cloaked in purple, like the first caretakers of the moreno Christ, come to profess their faith. And you’ve seen how in the path of the procession, buildings are lavishly adorned with purple garlands of flowers. You’ve heard the chants and the prayers that mingle with the fragrance of incense in the dim candlelight. And you’ve seen the gold-and-silver bier with the painted image of el Señor de los Milagros that is carried through Lima’s streets. But of all the gifts of song, incense, and myrrh offered