OH WHERE IS THE GLISTENING BREAD?
We had been out most of the day shopping and were waiting for the bus or a horse drawn coach to take us home. It was nearly 6:00 and the stores were all but closed.
We stood there for about 10 minutes and from across the street, a large negro woman was waving frantically and finally my wife saw her and waved back. Without my glasses I am useless at that distance. The woman was her aunt, married to her mother's brother.
She waited for a break in traffic and floated gracefully, kenetic motion at it's finest, to our side of the road. After a few minutes greeting, she invited my wife and I to her house a few blocks away for dinner. I was hesitant, wanting to get home and have a drink and relax. We had planned on pasta anyway and the sauce was already made. Thoughts of hailing a coach in the dark with a full stomach made my wanting to go home more urgent.
However, my wife had not seen her aunt since we were married and accepted.
When we arrived at her home, the whole family was seated in the living room. Grandma, Grandpa, husband, two stunning mulatta daughters, one about 20 and the other a couple of years younger and her son. Two babies, both under three ran naked and barefoot, dirty from playing on the unpainted cement floor. I assumed they belonged to the older girl and it was obvious they didn't have the same father...
After kisses and handshakes came the coffee, strong black and sweet and each of the nine cups and glasses were a different shape, size and color but this is a normality here in Cuba. There are no pretenses, pride yes and lots of it but pretense no. There is no difference between one who has and one who has not. I can remember my first few months here sitting down to supper with my wife and her two boys, each of us having a different plate and a different fork and spoon. The ability to eat with it is more important that what it looks like.
Her husband offered me a glass of rum and I accepted so he took a glass and rinsed it in the sink. It was not my coffee cup and it was a quick rinse. If you remember the story about "This Little Piggy" sanitary is nothing more than a word in the dictionary. Besides, one needs to believe that alcohol kills germs.
The conversation fought to be heard above the blaring TV showing Cuban music videos that always have some nearly naked mulatta shaking it. About 30 minutes passed and I noticed Grandma, Grandpa and the two daughters and her son had moved to the table to eat. Her aunt and her husband continued shouting to us.
Supper in most Cuban homes is done in shifts because there usually is not enough chairs or plates or forks or cups and I was not overly concerned because I thought that even though we had been invited, I would graciously decline and eat pasta at home.
I kept looking at the table and watching Grandma. She looked to be about 80 slightly frail but seemed to be quite spry and certainly had a good appetite. I wasn't quite ready for what happened next. Everyone left the table leaving all the plates and utensils and only Grandma was left. She put her hand to her mouth and spat her false teeth into her hand and put them in her pocket and got up and came to sit in the living room with us.
Her aunt motioned for us to move to the table to eat. I protested respectfully that I wasn't really that hungry anyway but to protest more would have been disrespectful.
So off to the table we went. Her aunt took a spoon from one of the plates and scraped all the other plates onto one plate, putting each one back down where she got it from. I waited thinking she was going to collect them all and at least rinse them off like her husband did to the glass I had drank from.
Now this too is not a random occurance because in my house, if someone comes to the table late and there is a plate already dirty they will use it before they dirty another one. Campesino culture for sure because I kiss my wife but I won't eat from the same plate that she did. Maybe I am just a bit wussie but that is my right. On the other hand that is family and we know where the plate has been, that it was washed properly and we know what was on it before the first person used it so I cannot fault her aunt for assuming the same thing. It is just the way things are.
I was motioned to sit down where Grandma had sat and it was at that point I knew this was not going to go down well. Some quick thinking was needed. I asked to use the bathroom to wash my hands but was told the bathroom sink did not have running water but to use the pan in the kitchen. When I saw the pan I thought my hands are going to be more dirty after than they were right them. The pan had some of the dirtiest water I have ever seen waiting for what I assumed would be the dirty dishes.
The pan with dirty water is also a common sight here in Cuba as I am sure in many countries where water is not a tap away. Most people do not have running water in the house and rely on a tank outside where they fetch water as needed and as such they do not waste water.
So hands washed, I did a quick sign of the cross and the quickest Hail Mary ever and returned to the table thinking that perhaps if it had been one of the young ladies I could have done it. However after watching Grandma felch her teeth into her hand there was no way.
Thoughts of dashing out the back door or falling down or some other tactic to get out of eating blazed through my head but they quickly vanished.
As much as I have doubts about the existence of God, if he does then her sure made me a lucky day. Her husband had sat where Grandma, his mother had sat and already had his plate loaded. My wife motioned for me to sit next to her, the place where the two young ladies had sat. I can do this. Oh yes I can and I did. The first bite was the hardest but after that I was fine.
From that day forward, I have never accepted a dinner invitation unless I know what I can expect. No more bad timing dinners for me.
The End