When we grew up in a country of those called from the “Third World”, in simpler times long gone, we had the chance to live experiences which in the so called “First World” countries would never happen…
But… before we go any further, I want to establish we are all
inhabitants of the “Third World”… the coveted first world is a little too
close to the sun and we would all burn to a crisp in seconds…
In my childhood years, in that beautiful island of Cuba, we
lived a very different World then than what we have here, or there, or anywhere
for that matter. We could roam the streets freely, the worst fear being that of
becoming distracted somewhere and getting home late or, in a worst case, being the victim of a
very unusual street accident… We could play with our friends, family and
neighbors, constantly making someone else (or becoming ourselves) the butt of
what now would be … GASP!!!... a
politically incorrect joke. My Lord… to call someone “Negro” (Black) or “mulatto” (Mixed blood) to their own face!!! To us, it simply was (and still is) an endearment term. But… how would all those who now turn
red just by uttering “African-American” react? Methinks we tend to exaggerate far too many of
the ideologies which are in vogue and which do nothing but create a fence
around our minds, effectively cutting down the opportunity for direct, simple
and open communication.
In those early years of mine, in that beautiful island to which
I refer, there was social and racial prejudice. To say the contrary, would be
to say a lie… But he thing is we did not have the brand of explosive and
vitriolic prejudice which we tend to find in this, our adopted culture.
¡Ah… Juanita la Mulata! Even
to my then still somewhat innocent eyes (Well…
they were, you know…) as a young “old” child, she was a beautiful and very
voluptuous woman in the prime of her sensual life... and she lived across the street
from us. Setting the stage… my family lived in an old house, one of those houses built around the turn of the century (last century, that is), that you’ll find in the center of old
towns. My dear grandfather, God Rest His Soul, had rented this shortly after
his marriage, somewhen in the early 20’s… The rent was frozen (not just in NYC this happens, you know)
and over the years it became a very low rent for a centrally located house.
My grandfather could have easily bought a house in then
fashionable Punta Gorda area, with a beautiful view to the bay but… as a
thrifty man, he opted to save his money for business investments and for his
grandchildren’s education (including me)…
something which I am sure the Castro bros. appreciated when they confiscated
all the private bank accounts (as well as
the banks) in the country. Besides, as a traditional “old-timer” he
preferred to remain in that house, full of memories and where his only son grew
his short years in this life, before a bout of TB took him away… He liked to
walk every day, going the 2 blocks to Central park (Parque Martí) and crossing
it, in order to get to his office on the far side… this route took him by the
Cathedral which was not only his “business” block neighbor but an old spiritual
and ideological antagonist.
In these older quarters of the city, we had the “cuarterías”. These were older, large
homes, which had been sectioned into “sub mini-apartments” where one or two of
the original home’s room(s) became an apartment for a family. From here, the
name “cuartería” since “cuarto”, in Cuba, was the name given to a room. In the
city of Mexico they are called “vecindad” (vicinity) which lends the place a
higher degree of given “sophistication”…
Well… let’s get back to Cienfuegos, which is the focal point of
this discussion… Right across the street from my house, there was one of these
cuarterias. The resulting mix of its inhabitants was more than interesting for
it contained whites, blacks, mulattoes… even a Chinese family or two. Some of
my childhood playmates came from this veritable mansion, although if truth be
said… set in decadent ways… and they came in an assortment of sizes, colors,
sounds and flavors. Maybe this is why some of my private school classmates didn't come to visit me at home often… too bad… they lost the opportunity to
get to know Juana La Mulata…
In a country and culture based on restrictions born of an even
earlier era and very dominated by the church, the concept of “sex” and
Gasp!!!... to openly talk about this was a decided taboo. We could be
excommunicated for life (all of them,
here and thereafter…) It was also taboo to exhibit the totally indecorous female intimate clothing, for all the youthful flights of fancy they might engender.
This was a moral challenge which had to be resolved in the practical aspect,
when during summer mornings the knickers of Juana la Mulata were openly hung
from the drying ropes to sway in the breeze, waving like a proud multi-color clan flag,
while they would slowly dry in the tender care of the morning air.
The neighborhood kids, much like stealthy little bandit
apprentices, took our turns to eavesdrop on these forbidden sights while
imagining them covering, like chaste guardians (though easily removable from their post... that is... we heard...) those intimate parts of
Juana la Mulata, this magnificent specimen of the Caribbean woman. Especially
those ample buttocks which, when covered by these scant knickers and a very
flimsy summer dress, would drive the neighborhood men (and several of the older kids as well) crazy as she walked by… each side
moving like a small boat… up and down with every step… I mean… wave.
What delights!! To have been born in that “underprivileged”
third world… To have shared in that crazy lifestyle which gave me such an
unfair advantage over my eventual friends in that coveted “first world”. Not
all are memories of the club or school or family gatherings.
Many of these
memories take me to a different world, a different plane; seems the world where I now
live everything must be measured and categorized by what and how we
say it… pasteurized, homogenized and deprived of flavor.
Be
Well … Be Back!!!
Final Notes:
- Pray for those who are fighting an illness
which may take them away from their loved ones… Every request is heard,
and counts!!
- Follow us on Twitter …
@RJAsPandora
- Any comments please send to otherboxp@yahoo.com
- “La Otra Caja de Pandora”… The Spanish language Blog… “otracaja.blogspot.com” … Bienvenidos!!!
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