El Beso de la Patria Translation

This was by request from some of my fellow Spanish class students. I know this isn’t my typical post so don’t worry about it if you don’t care. This story is El Beso de la Patria by Sonia Rivera Valdes and is originally in Spanish, and I translated it to English. All ownership of the text belongs to Sonia Rivea Valdes, and I claim absolutely none of it. Please don’t sue me.

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El Beso de la Patria

We moved to Santa Fe when I was eight years old. Although we were very close to Havana, it was another world. The change represented a bit of calm because my dad and my mom didn’t fight each other there. It was a small village of strong contrasts, green, and sandy, with the sea of the north coasts of Havana on one side and the Tahoro Mountains on another. We drank from the springs in these mountains, for three cents a tin; later it was later raised to five. The tin of water was immense; I don’t know how many liters I had, but it filled a large jar.

Corno Beach, Santa Fe was not worth much, too many rocks and little sand, but the water was so crystal clear that I swam slowly along the surface and saw fish black, yellow, silver, of all colors, swimming below me. One of my favorite things to do for entertainment was to remove sea urchins off the rocks of the bottom of the sea with a long stick, which usually came from an old broom, which would have a large nail on the end to hook the urchins. I got in the water and with my right hand holding the stick while with the left I supported myself with a beaker of wood that had a bottom of glass, to see into the sea, and served as a float. I spent long hours on the beach with Rita, the daughter of Goyo the fisherman, who I met and had recently moved to the village and we would sit on the rocks to the shore of the beach, alone, to dream of the day in which we will curl our hair, or when I draw the lottery to pay off the debts that my dad had contracted playing poker. The dream of the hair was the best; that one day a fairy was going to appear that would give me a magic lotion, a miraculous shampoo that will curl my hair forever. I didn’t like my hair, straight and fine; I wanted one of those with many curls that I saw in Hollywood cinema; my preference was Viveca Lindfors in the film Gypsy.

In winter, the sea broke with so much force against the rocks that a lady who was visiting for the weekend asked if there were any factories near, whose machinery produced the people for coming onholiday, as an amusement park (a fair) was going to come into town in September. For July or August, they set up the amusement park, a few men came, and they weeded a big area in some of the most central places, generally an empty lot of those who were bordering on the highway of Santa Fe to Punta Brava. They were installed seahorses, a star, flying chairs, the kiosk of cotton candy, the posts of fried food and soft drinks, the places that sell beer and gambling, in which one could win a stuffed doll, a cup with a dish, or a compact of glass that had in the tapauna hen pitch… those were nice. They installed hundreds of light bulbs; and on the day of the inauguration, for we had lived permanently on the beach, accustomed to long months of silent streets and semi-off lights, it was the glare; the movement and the lighting amazed us; We received the park with so much enthusiasm that filled every night during the time that remained. Then, when he began to get dark earlier and later to dawn, and the sea began to be heard from the house in the evening, a day came where we saw the men who had mowed the lawn disassemble and take apart the park. Shortly after the aboveground trampled by the feet of the people grew back to grass.

Rita and I went together to public school. Her mother, Julia, was the caretaker and as she was the one who prepared and distributed the snacks, she always gave me a lot. We got condensed milk with “gofio” in the afternoon session we would attend because the boys went in the morning. Although it was supposed to be that the snack was only for the neediest girls and I was not, because they didn’t get to eat at home, my friendship with Rita guaranteed me a snack, and it made me very happy.

I was in fourth grade. It was the first year I made completely in a same school, since I hadn’t before previously due to the constant moving and my mother did not like getting up early to send me to classes, I changed school three or four times during a school year, and at times lacked full months. This was also the first time I took tests to advance to the next grade. In the mornings, I would sit on the floor of red and white mosaics by the door of the wooden small house in that we were living, that would stay cold although there was the sun that was hitting the stones, and I would memorize all that I had written in my notebooks the previous day. It was the most enjoyable experience I have had in my life. Reading about the wars of independence of Cuba in the nineteenth century, or learning about the mightiest rivers of Europe, or the bones had the human body, I forgot for a while the cries of my mom stuck in the bathroom, for reasons that I only that I only half understand, and the lack of money that my dad spoke of constantly. While reading, I felt the cool of the floor in my thighs and the reading, the various vicariates, blancs, Rojas, and the madams we had planted when we had removed the stones and empty cans that had been there when we moved there and we had planted flowers. I thought about the marvelousness of the eyes, and the curiosity that was in the little pods that formed the seeds of madama.

I never had spirit of competition because I did not have to develop it. My mom was neither demanding anything from me in this sense, and with so many changes even she nor knew that awards existed for good grades were available. That year I won the El Beso de la Patria, the prize giving to the best student in each grade. I was shocked when I received it because I did not expect it, but it gave me great joy. Because of this award I was elected to carry the banner of the school in the birthday of Martí parade next year. It was recognition of my excellent academic work.

To commemorate birthday of Martí, on the January 18^th, enormous parades were organized. Private schools made a display of luxury with gala uniforms and marching bands in which the children were dressed in red satin, blue turkey, prussian blue, bright green, canary yellow, and the costumes were adorned with gallons of contrasting colors; on their heads they wore hats with tall plumes of feathers; and they competed to see which school was more elegant. Public schools were separate; they tried to have children dress as best as possible and they put some restrictions to attend; We had to wear certain clothes that many did not have: those could not wear those clothes couldn’t participate in the parade; a requirement was to have uniform fashion: teachers, usually, did not demand it because they knew that if children were not wearing it, it was because they didn’t have the money to do so. When I was appointed to carry the banner, which was a great honor, they warned me that it was necessary to be in uniform and wear leather or black patent leather shoes.  I had a uniform that someone had given me used; my mom had dyed it so it regained the original color and it looked fine, but my only shoes were a few tennis shoes. When I was told what shoes to wear I didn’t dare to say that I didn’t have them because I was very disappointed and I said yes, that I would have them. I didn’t think about it for a month and a half, until it reached the day: I forgot not when I was studying or when I was listening to the birds singing, even when the seeds of the madams had done its job of sprouting with such a consistency that had been and I said nothing in my home because I knew that I wasn’t going to get black shoes. Finally the day arrived, and after much thought I decided to go; I fixed my hair as best I could, very clean and combed it with large loops in the plaits, I put on white stockings, and I washed the tennis shoes. Introducing myself, in the midst of the confusion was the organizer of the parade, and before they had noticed nothing, but as we prepare to begin the march I was alone in front of the other students. The first to see my feet was one of the teachers, an old lady who said that was a poet, who called me aside and told me: “You know that you cannot carry the banner without black shoes. We understand that you do not have them and so what we are going to do is we will raise money among all the teachers to share a pair of shoes for you the next time. Naomi will carry the banner.” Naomi, who was ugly and got bad notes, had leather shoes with a few frayed slipknots. I furtively cried the entire parade. What I thought was really hurting me was because it was terribly unfair, that I was paying for sins that I had not committed. I was quietly suffering whenever I went to school in the days after the parade, thinking forward for the time that they would give me the blessed shoes. But my anxiety was increased, because they never assembled any money and they did not even buy me any shoes.