Fri 24 Apr 2009
South 2nd St.: When I Was Nuyorican, Part 7
Posted by RNz under South 2nd Street
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The next day we drove up a mountain. My father’s parents had a finca way up in the sky. We drove through dark green jungle, around and around, higher and higher, often very close to the edge. All this movement made my sister and I carsick. My father had to stop the car twice—first, for me, then for Evie to throw up on the side of the road. My brother also needed for the car to stop. Mami followed him into the woods with tissues.
Back in the car she told us that when she was a little girl in P.R. and had to go to the bathroom, her and her 12 brothers and sisters would use corn to clean themselves.
“Corn!” “Oh my god.” “That’s disgusting.”
“Sometimes we use banana leaves.”
“Eeeee-www.”
Finally, we came to a long dirt road lined with trees that were filled with bananas and mangoes. At the end of the road was a small cement farmhouse. Chickens clucked around. There was a goat—a real, live goat. And not too far away cows—actual cows!—stood around chewing.
My brother and I said, “Wow.” I bet we said, “Wow” fifty times.
We did not rush to touch the animals. As City kids, I believe we still saw that as objects from TV—not there to be touched, just watched.
In any case, we were there to meet our grandparents for the first time.
They walked up from the house, one smoking a cigar, the other wore a straw hat. Both were raisin dry and dark from the Sun. Our grandmother—the one with the cigar—greeted us in Spanish. Our grandfather seemed like a quiet man.
Popi started showing us around, pointing out the banana trees heavy with fruit right by the car. We took a few steps–and that was when I stepped in cow manure. Ankle deep.
My brother and sister bent over laughing. Even Popi smiled. “It’s good luck,” my mother said. She led me back to the house, where they poured water on my foot and sandal until I was clean.
We walked around some more, but then apparently it was time for lunch.
Our grandmother, still talking, stooped down and picked up a chicken. It clucked and fluttered in her hand. Without pausing, she turned, set it on a butcher block, and chopped off its head. Then she turned and did the same to another chicken. As she chopped, she saw the look of surprise and fear on my face. She smiled at me. She said something in Spanish to Mami and they laughed.