Meet The Family

Papa, Mama and I are now on 'The Other Planet', as I call mainland Spain, visiting papa's Andalusian Papa's (see  post The Other Planet). We have already met with Grandma Maria and Grandpa Eduardo, the rest of the Garrido family is still ahead of us.

Uncle Eduardo, Papa's brother, also comes to greet us with his wife, Josefina or Aunt Pepa as we call her. She has a warm smile and Mama and I like her right away. Eduardo is a small man with an infectious laugh and he soon introduces me to my two Andalusian cousins, Eduardo and Maria Dolores who are roughly my age. Eduardo is named after Papa's Papa and Maria Dolores after Papa's Mama, just like me and my little mind wonders to itself, ‘why are we all named after two people?' Later that evening Papa tells Mama that uncle Eduardo had to marry Aunt Pepa because she was in the family way and I do not understand what this means but I am happy that the family way is with our family because I like Aunt Pepa and I like my Andalusian cousins, Edu and Mari as everybody calls them. We are all named after our immediate relatives, but it’s only a formality. As soon as the ink has dried on the christening document, we all revert to pet names. Eduardo becomes Edu, Maria Dolores becomes Mari. Even Aunt Josefina does not stay Josefina for long, for everybody calles her Aunt Pepa. Papa is called José, but everyone calls him Pepe, and Mama is called Francisca, but nobody uses that name for she is known as Paca. 

My name is easy, I am christened Maria del Carmen and everybody calls me Mari Carmen. Except when I am very naughty, then Mama and Papa call me by my full name and I know that I will have something to answer for. But being called by my full name no longer fills me with trepidation, for I am a wise beyond my years and have already worked out that when a Mama or Papa smack you on the bottom for being naughty, you just theatrically yelp and cry as loud as possible after the first smack, that way they think you have learned your lesson with just one smack and stop at that. Mamas and Papas don't really want to smack you, but they must, and if one smack is enough to teach you a lesson then they are relieved. And so am I. You just have to be careful to time the first wail with the smack, for if you wail too early, then the Mamas and Papas realise that you are making it all up and then you will get an extra smack for wailing before the actual smack has been administered. Since a young and tender age I have been honing my acting skills to perfection, and I rarely get more than one smack, which is just as well as I try to be a good girl most of the time but don't always succeed. My little three year old mind tells me I need to share this gem of information with my Andalusian cousins, Mari and Edu.

One of the Andalusian Mamas comes by to meet Mama and I am offered a toffee whilst the adults talk. I greedily unwrap it and shove it into my little mouth to enjoy the delights of this treasure. Not so fast, says my benefactor, ‘Have you not forgotten to say something ‘she asks with a hint of irritation at my lack of manners. I too suddenly realise that I have forgotten something of importance and through a mouthful of teeth clamped shut with sticky toffee, I respond accordingly, stretching out my little chubby three-year-old hand and say a most important thing I had completely forgotten in the ecstasy of devouring my glorious toffee: ‘Can I have another one for my Mother?’ Both Mamas burst into fits of laughter and soon they have forgotten about my imprudence, but most important, I achieve my goal and am given my second toffee. Slowly I am beginning to like life here on this Other Planet; I have nice cousins to play with, we all speak the same language which I am now finally beginning to understand, and even the toffees seem to be distributed with boundless generosity. When your are just three-years-old, that's important.

We are now living on the Calle Ancha, Wide Street, and it is early morning and the street outside is strangely quite after the noisy bustle of the night before. I have already noticed that the people from this Other Planet are noisier than from my Island: as well as talking in strange tongues and eating unfamiliar food, they break into bouts of spontaneous singing and dancing, and I have no idea what sets them off. They call it Flamenco. Papa does it and I am transfixed listening to him singing this soulful, melancholic music with people around him clapping hands, dancing or playing the guitar. This is a flamboyant side to Papa that I have never seen back on our Island and I like it. I am already awake but Mama and Papa are still fast asleep and I am bursting for a wee-wee. I do not want wake them, so pull out the potty from under my bed and sit on it, on this new day of our stay on The Other Planet. Now the wee -wee is done, I decide to be a big girl and empty the potty all by myself so that Mama need not do that. I take the chair from the corner of the room and push it up against the window which has been open all night so that the stifling heat of the Andalusian nights somehow dissipates. And I climb up onto the chair with the potty in my hand, and throw the contents out into the street. I do not have time to climb down, before I hear the screams of a woman coming from the street directly outside the window. She is shouting in such a loud voice that Mama and Papa are now awake. ‘What’s’ going on?’  Papa drowsily asks, ‘what’s going on, is that your daughter has drenched me with the contents of her potty!’ and the voice from the other side of the window is now standing before me in our bedroom in the form of a very angry-looking lady. 

‘Carmen!’ Papa says, but Papa has no time to add anything else, for Carmen has already interrupted him, ‘How would you like it, to be walking past somebody's house minding your own business, only to be suddenly soaked with a potty full of urine! Just let me get my hands on her!’ she screams at the top of her voice and directs a chilling look at the three-year-old girl culprit in room; me. ‘Carmen, relax, it was just an accident, she is just a child, these things happen.’ Mama and Papa are now out of bed, trying to calm the irate lady, and I take advantage of this to run behind Papa and skilfully place him between myself and this angry person, peeking out every now then from behind the safety of his legs, not sure of what I have done to warrant such heated exchanges. These people from The Other Planet are indeed strange, I think to myself. I can see that Carmen whoever-she-is, is in no mood to be pacified and she storms out of the room and abruptly as she arrived, telling Mama and Papa that she will now have to go home and change her clothes, and all because of a three-year-old who has not been brought up with the most basic of manners. Once Carmen has left, Mama and Papa start to laugh the laughter at the absurdity of the situation. Papa tells Mama that Carmen is his cousin, and that she will calm down, but it will not be today. And as for me, Mama tells me to wake them the next time I want to empty the contents of my potty. One urine soaked cousin will suffice for this trip. And they both look at one another and smile.

It’s soon the end of our time on The Other Planet and Papa takes Mama and I to the Feria, the Fair. It’s a magical place with rides, light and toys that I have never seen before in my short life. It's a hot Andalusian night and the three of us walk there together. I hold Papa's hand and notice that he has half a finger missing and I ask what happened. Where is it? Gone, Papa says, a donkey bit it off when he was a young boy and he cannot now bear to see the animal, not even in a photo. The mystery of the missing half finger is however quckly forgotten, for I am soon assailed by an unquenchable thirst and ask Papa to, 'please buy me a Coca-Cola, my throat is parched'. He smiles at the eloquent request of this three-year-old before him, and the refreshment is duly purchased. Now we move onto the lottery stalls and I want more than anything to win a blonde doll that I have spotted. She has captivating hair the colour of gold, and nobody I know has hair like that. Even on this Other Planet, everybody has hair the colour of ebony just like me. Papa buys consecutive lottery tickets, one after the other in a vain attempt to win me my doll and countless tickets have now been purchased, but the doll still sits unattainably on the shelf. Finally, Papa asks the stall holder the price for purchasing the doll outright. He empties his pockets of all the money he has, hands it to the stall holder who in turn picks up the doll and then puts it into my ecstatic little arms. Papa tells Mama and I that all our money has now gone so we must go home and to bed. But I have my doll and happily walk back to our home clutching Emilia with her golden mane of hair, for this is what I have named my precious find. Emilia will follow me on all my life journeys, back to my Island and eventually one day onto England. But for now, she is the Andalusian doll that Papa sacrificed everything for so that I could have her. And I know that Papa did this because he loves me as much as I love Emilia. Sleep comes effortlessly once we are back home, and I clutch my treasured doll dreaming of the faraway places we will visit to together. But our first journey will back to my Island home.

To be continued...

Next post 26th February : Columbus And The Missing Gravestone

Note: All written content is the intellectual property of this Author. Image material is drawn largely from Pixabay with some small additions from private family archives.