Tamales and Rosaries
Today would have been my father's birthday. Before he left us I had asked him to write down the story of his life. Unfortunately he didn't finish it. I did find this on one story on one of his flash drives. This isn't the full thing and this is a very rough translation (it was written in spanish http://ataraya.blogspot.com/
He was talking about his life when he was about 12 years old and what happened when a hurricane hit the village. This is an excerpt where he recounts a beautiful simple rituals of mourning a year after his uncle Reymundo's wife passed away. I think I'll say a Rosary and get myself a couple of hot Tamales.
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After dinner we all gathered at my uncle Reymundo's house to pray the rosary for nine days. It was the first anniversary of the death of his wife. There were several women who knew the rosary for the dead and there was also a young woman who sang the saddest songs that you've ever heard, each word had an intonation that vibrated with a recent regret--- although it had been a year of the death of my aunt Teofila, both her husband and her daughters were crying. They moved others to tears. It was a hard and long prayer, litanies seemed to never end. After each prayer everyone called "pray for her." While praying the rosary, it began to rain, fell a heavy storm but winds and then ended. Everyone waited a while, women talked between themselves and the men between themselves, no children were allowed in that conversation All the women spoke of how the health of each one of them was, many complained of ailments or dolamos as they called him. They knew of all women and their health throughout the village and other nearby villages.
Elena eldest daughter of my uncle Reymundo told everyone that women would host a meal on the ninth day. All the women joined and cooked tamales and quesadillas made to feed those who would arrive for the prayer. This rosary lasted most of the night and family friends came from everywhere and each group coming from other villages prayed the rosary and then joined the conversation with the women of the village of the Monges. The pork (cuche) tamales and made of hen (gallina). They made hundreds because so many people would be coming to these prayers. They worked all day. Great quantities of tamales cooked in giant clay pots and enough wood was gathered to make fire for about ten basins, each basin seventy had as tamales are cooked for hours. It was quite night. My uncle Basilio was responsible for calling order of who was to eat first. Generally my uncle knew all comers, usually began to call visitors from other villages. Then he called the most important people of the nearby villages and our village. The neighbor lent some tables and thus improvised tables and tamales served there for about thirty in each batch. Men and women ate at separate tables. To be called to eat at these tables had to be more than twelve years. Young people or children under twelve years on hands gave them one or two hot tamales. The tamales were eaten using fingers, the problem was that they were hot and they were buttery and cooked with lard and sticks the fingers and one had to be constantly sucking our fingers so as not to get burned. We continue eating those two tamales. All children remained standing. Each one was sucking fingers and as blowing to cool it down little . In a few minutes the first group had finished and were leaving the table. The women returned to serve the tamales the next group and so on until all were called. Those who were too young to be called to the table would be given tamales in hand. Mothers would get tamales and give it to their kids in corner of the house. We had to ask to be given a piece of quesadilla or marquezote. After we ate we played a while and then we were sent to bed.
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Feliz Cumpleaños Papi
He was talking about his life when he was about 12 years old and what happened when a hurricane hit the village. This is an excerpt where he recounts a beautiful simple rituals of mourning a year after his uncle Reymundo's wife passed away. I think I'll say a Rosary and get myself a couple of hot Tamales.
=====
After dinner we all gathered at my uncle Reymundo's house to pray the rosary for nine days. It was the first anniversary of the death of his wife. There were several women who knew the rosary for the dead and there was also a young woman who sang the saddest songs that you've ever heard, each word had an intonation that vibrated with a recent regret--- although it had been a year of the death of my aunt Teofila, both her husband and her daughters were crying. They moved others to tears. It was a hard and long prayer, litanies seemed to never end. After each prayer everyone called "pray for her." While praying the rosary, it began to rain, fell a heavy storm but winds and then ended. Everyone waited a while, women talked between themselves and the men between themselves, no children were allowed in that conversation All the women spoke of how the health of each one of them was, many complained of ailments or dolamos as they called him. They knew of all women and their health throughout the village and other nearby villages.
Elena eldest daughter of my uncle Reymundo told everyone that women would host a meal on the ninth day. All the women joined and cooked tamales and quesadillas made to feed those who would arrive for the prayer. This rosary lasted most of the night and family friends came from everywhere and each group coming from other villages prayed the rosary and then joined the conversation with the women of the village of the Monges. The pork (cuche) tamales and made of hen (gallina). They made hundreds because so many people would be coming to these prayers. They worked all day. Great quantities of tamales cooked in giant clay pots and enough wood was gathered to make fire for about ten basins, each basin seventy had as tamales are cooked for hours. It was quite night. My uncle Basilio was responsible for calling order of who was to eat first. Generally my uncle knew all comers, usually began to call visitors from other villages. Then he called the most important people of the nearby villages and our village. The neighbor lent some tables and thus improvised tables and tamales served there for about thirty in each batch. Men and women ate at separate tables. To be called to eat at these tables had to be more than twelve years. Young people or children under twelve years on hands gave them one or two hot tamales. The tamales were eaten using fingers, the problem was that they were hot and they were buttery and cooked with lard and sticks the fingers and one had to be constantly sucking our fingers so as not to get burned. We continue eating those two tamales. All children remained standing. Each one was sucking fingers and as blowing to cool it down little . In a few minutes the first group had finished and were leaving the table. The women returned to serve the tamales the next group and so on until all were called. Those who were too young to be called to the table would be given tamales in hand. Mothers would get tamales and give it to their kids in corner of the house. We had to ask to be given a piece of quesadilla or marquezote. After we ate we played a while and then we were sent to bed.
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Feliz Cumpleaños Papi
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