Ocumare's house. A History. Venezuela, 01/26/2021

Ocumare's house, the ones on vacations and weekends, had a roof of five that when It was raining, such was the uproar, even silencing the waves of the sea. With a large room and two windows to the front, preceded by a corridor, where at the foot of one of them, Dad improvised the kitchen, I will never be able to forget that kerosene kitchen, used by everyone, its brand was Corona, and on one side it had a glass container where the fuel went. In the simplest way, our father, on four blocks and two boards, put the kitchen to work.

The only food that I remember is when Mom would fry the fish in the kitchen on the boards, because there were boards and blocks all over the house, it was time to build, she was at that age of six or seven and all that stuff. they caught my attention.

The fishmonger, the black man, hawking his fish with a "if I bring the fresh grouper the Catalan and the curvina" from the delivery bicycle with a rubber knob horn that day by day, flaking and clean, he left them at the door of the house, and in his voice he let hear:

Don't worry madam, he used to say, he'll pay me on Saturday when El Capitan arrives.
Marisol's canned coconut, the tall and skinny black girl, dressed in a denim suit, where the Gol Medal flour was bagged, which barefoot on the beach proclaimed:

Look! That if she carried the canned coconut and lowering the wooden tray from her head, and in a pewter plate, she very carefully, they would not break, one by one she was placing them so that we could enjoy them at night in front of the sea, listening to Mama the tales of big ships of Corsairs from other seas that came to the beach of Ocumare to divide and bury the loot, taken from other pirates.

In the mornings, after spending the night dreaming about pirates, she would walk along the beach, trying to remember where Mom told us, they had buried the treasure.

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