Sin Cantar

My mother and her little sister share a birthday month.  They were both August babies.  Nordia was born on August 8, 1960 and my mother two years earlier on August 24.  A few weeks ago, I learned that the day had mostly passed without me even knowing it was my aunt's birthday and it upset me.  I managed to squeeze in a blog entry quickly before the stroke of midnight in her honor.  However, realizing that this date is not part of my personal, mental calendar was unsettling.  I know my Tía Mima is September 25, my Tío Picho is July 16 and the rest of my relatives is whenever Facebook tells me so.  I have memories growing up of candles and pictures and prayers for family members.  The dates though, didn't stick with me.  It was not something I would remember to continue on my own.  I realized I wanted to change that.  I wanted to take the time to remember.  To remember something I never knew in the first place.  Pondering the fact that I've never wished my aunt a happy birthday started to haunt me.  It saddened me to accept that I didn't know the date because I never celebrated it.  It wasn't in my routine.  I know other relatives birthdays because I was able to share in it.  This was something I never experienced.

To cope with the frustration and help express my newfound mourning I decided to attempt to write a poem.  For some reason I felt inspired to challenge myself by writing in Spanglish.  I've written several English poems growing up and sadly only one completely in Spanish, but never anything in Spanglish.  It was more difficult than I expected to try to actively think in two languages and manipulate their words together.  Forcing my  brain to jump back and forth was tricky.  I somehow managed to jumble enough stuff together to somewhat adequately release my emotions.

This past weekend was a beautiful time with my family where I got to celebrate my parents' birthdays.  I am very grateful to have them both with me.  I feel blessed that I can continue to share in the joy of their lives.  I am thankful that I can count every August 24 and August 27 to mark the gift of their presence here at my side.  We ate, we drank, we sang, we danced, we laughed, we loved.

I wish this was something I could also have shared with my Tía Nordia.

~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~

Sin Cantar

Lips never to part,
Breath withheld
A broken heart
Silence propelled.

I never sang,
Nunca.
The celebration robbed.
The night continues to hang,
Holding back Las Mañanitas.

1960 was the year,
Y mi Mamita,
The youngest child, casi dos
With a reason to cheer,
Su nueva hermanita.

Y juntas,
Las niñas jugaron,
Sisters together a crecer,
Pero los días las abadonaron
Dejando a mi Tía caer.

A cumplir, y cumplir
Y cumplir los años
Sola una los cumplió
La otra sola en nuestros sueños
Porque la historia se los robó

Diez y ocho
Just shy of 19
Una joven, barely adult
En la guerra, so obscene
With a treacherous result.

The 19th candle never lit,
Its little fire never blown
A darker spark does now emit
As the day has changed its tone.

Cinquenta y tres
Is what my aunt would be,
Had war not given her less,
To steal years so tragically.

The only celebration,
A dictator's flight.
But amidst the mourning,
Dim is the light.
Tainted by the blood split.
The rosquillas are consumed
with spoiled milk.

Her cake not cut,
Su canción held back
Sufriendo el dolor
Deep in the gut.
Hay nada más,
But remnants of the attack.

Nada.

Y nunca será.

La gente solo reza
Que un día lo aceptará.

Aquí queda la sobrina,
A niece never to know
La culpa americana
That struck the final blow.

Kidnapping the smile
That would grace her face
Left in denial
That this could take place.

No regalos, ni piñatas,
No memories to share
Just the ravage of los piratas
And the lingering dispair.

La única vela quemando
Not upon a cake, pero en el altar
Su cumpleaños, observando
Sin la música, Sin cantar.

El Mejor Guaro

August 16 is National Rum Day in the United States.  I'm not sure how or when it originated.  Most likely this is some commercial ploy to sell booze.  Regardless, I am already a fan of rum and happily support this silly celebration.  To commemorate the occasion, I am proudly sporting a Flor de Caña t-shirt in honor of my favorite rum.  It is a critically acclaimed rum, one of if not THE best in the world, made in the lovely land of Nicaragua.  My mother's country knows how to make an excellent rum and I proudly salute their craft.

I bought this shirt the last time I was visiting Nicaragua, the summer of 2012.  Bottles of Flor de Caña seemed readily available at every corner.  It is practically part of the iconography of the country.  It's logo graces every wall of bars, stores and restaurants.  My crazy uncles kept a constant supply.  I noticed my family kept referring to it as guaro, though I wasn't sure what that meant.  My cousins would joking caution about "los tíos y el guaro."  I survived the trip getting by with my fill of their delicious guaro even if I wasn't always exactly sure what they were saying.  I understood enough that I should enjoy the Flor de Caña while it was so abundant.  The little Nicaraguan guidebook that I recently discovered simply translates guaro to liquor.  It was almost disappointing realizing how basic a word it was.  Things just always sound more interesting in Spanish.  There is more romance, magic and mystery en el idioma de los latinos.

So, not to be too much of a commercial and appear as if under the influence of corporate sponsorship, but if you do plan on observing National Rum Day today, when getting your guaro be sure to consider trying, el mejor ron de mundo, Flor de Caña and enjoy this gem of Nicaragua.

Flor de Caña

Almost-belated Birthday

So I have the practice of calling home to my parents to say good night every single night. Yes, every night. Rarely a day goes by without my evening check-in. Today my mother told me not to worry too much about missing these Nicaraguan fairs and festivals. It's just an excuse to make money. Companies exploiting cultural loneliness to make a profit, a ploy like Cinco de Mayo. She's only had negative experiences with Los Angeles Nicaraguan restaurants. They are not authentic or provide poor quality food. If I want a good Nica meal, I can just eat her food. I'm even learning to cook it on my own too. If I want to hear the music or witness the culture I can just watch the crazy antics of my uncles. She warned of romanticizing things the way people do with poverty.  My mother did admit though, it would have been nice to hear Carlos Mejia Godoy perform while he's still around. Hopefully that opportunity will come again. I should not get distracted by the local street parties and try to focus on my aunt's story. I was caught off guard when my mom mentioned that today was Nordia's birthday. In fact, she would have turned 53 had she lived.  Really? Today? How do I not know this? Why am I not keeping track? I'm devoting an entire blog to learning about her and I don't even observe her birthday! I was really disappointed in myself. I should have known. These three dates I must always strive to remember: June 13, the day she died, July 19, the day the war ended and August 8, her birthday. She died just before Somoza was overthrown and the revolution ended right before her birthday. Three months marked in memory. So now, at the 11th hour I take a moment to remember my aunt. I pause to acknowledge and give thanks for her tragically brief life, to recall what she did for her people, her country and the lasting impact she left on her family. Feliz cumple, Nordia. Hope you're enjoying some yummy birthday rosquillas in heaven. Rest in peace.

¡Qué Bárbaro!

So I apparently have again missed out on yet another Nicaraguan festival.  What's especially cruel with this revelation is that it comes merely 4 days late.  I was only 4 days shy of learning of this opportunity I could have attended.  I've also been on high alert since discovering the other event from May.  I am following and friending whoever necessary on Facebook and Twitter to track and monitor the Nicaraguan rumblings of Los Angeles.  I do not know how these people advertise their fairs, but they somehow continually fail to reach out far and wide enough to catch me.  It seems like I'm the one who's going to have to do the digging.  Hopefully the future will be kinder to my curiosity and for once present with non-expired possibilities.

http://www.ferianica.com