Who is Tleintijinco, Chucalala & Chulumbita?
Well... I am tleintijinco, Chucalala and Chulumbita.
Tleintijinco literally means 35. It's a strictly Salvadorean way of speaking where the "s" or "c" sounds are pronounced as a "j" in Spanish or "h" in English. The "tlein" part is "trein" as pronounced by a little kid maybe 4 or 5 years old who have not yet learned to roll his "R's" and is simply unable to say "treinticinco".
I grew up in a small village between the Lempa and the Hacelhuate Rivers near the border between Chalatenango and San Salvador, 45 Km. North of San Salvador. As a young child, I used to be taken to the cane and cotton fields to pick cotton and to work with my uncle in the sugar cane harvest. My uncle, who was around 12 years old was paid every two weeks the amount of 25.00 colones (around $12.00). For my 2 weeks of hard labor, he used to give me 35 cents. I had to protest. So, at my 5 years of age, I complained to him that how can it be that he should only pay me 35 cents. People, as a matter of encouraging me to complain and throw my tantrum, would asked me "Chulumbita (my other nickname) how much does your uncle give you for helping him in the fields?" And I would protest firmly "mi tio jolo tleintijinco me da." ("My uncle only pays me 'tleintijinco' thirty five cents"). And so, I was called "tleintijinco" by some of my uncle's friends and some of my own friends.
Because I was unable to roll my "R's", I also had problems pronouncing the word "churumbita" which is a home made water carrying container made out of a "pelota de morro" which is a large balloon-like fruit resembling a round smooth large coconut, which when made hallow, it can hold water... and because of my inability to roll my "r's", I would pronounce it "chulumbita".
My other nickname, Chucalala ("azucarada"). I am told by a lady about 10 years older than myself that when I was around 2 or 3 years old, I used to cry a lot and hang from my grandma's apron so that she could hold me and carry me. I was raised by my Grandmother. My father was dead and my mother, who was his lover or one of his other women, had me and my sister and she had dropped us at my grandma's. To console me, my grandma used to give me sugar water. So, I used to cry and beg for "chucalala" or sugar water.
Now adays, no one ever calls me "tleintijinco, chucalala, or chulumbita" except for chilldhood friends who are in their fifties and sixties and some even in their seventies. They remember. They still joke about it and remind me "how much did your uncle gave you for working in the fields with him every two weeks?"... and I proudly answer "he used to pay me tleintijinco jentavos." Ofcourse, to this day, I can feel a certain urge to cry and even my eyes get a bit watery when someone utters that nickname from a past that seem almost fantasy by any standards of modern life.
I am Tleintijinco, chucalala and chulumbita all wrapped in one.
If you are an "immigrant" living in the USA, part of your money goes back home
When my phone rings at home, and the caller is from El Salvador, chances are I will be heading for the bank after the conversation is over.
It is the plight of most immigrants: to work for you, for your own family and the extended... and I mean, "extended" family which may include that unfamiliar cousin whom you've known only during those times when he or she may need your help.
Thousands of Salvadoreans living in the USA go through the same drill; and we are hardly alone. Every other nationality that I know, be that Mexican, Guatemalan, Haitian, Jamaican, SouthAfrican, Zimbawean... and yes, even Canadian or Irish, from time to time must send money back home to pay for the uncle's X-Rays, or the cousin's monthly meds, or grandma's rent, or a sister's children's school. At times, even for my cousin's son's twin daughters' medical check up/clothes/baby stroller all wrapped up in one single phone call (take advantage of that prepaid calling card right? Why buy 2 when you can pack all three requests into one call).
The debate, which obviously does not include the opinions of that "needed and extended family" is something like this: Is the money being sent to our countries of origin, helping or hurting their respective local economy? There are answers and there are answers to the answers.
Some people, mostly among the college educated young adults, seem to hint that the money is not spent in ways that help the local economy because it creates mainly dependency and consumerism. To us, the immigrant sending the money is not even a debate. The family needs it and we are to send it. If not, then risk being regarded as a heartless materialistic pig who have no compassion for the needy poor relatives facing daily hardships.
In internet forums such as
www.ayvevos.com and other online communities where Salvadorean meet and voice our opinions and concerns, the majority appears to be of the opinion that the money sent helps only temporarily and just to meet the immediate needs but that hardly any of it goes into savings, investment, property, property improvements, or to start up a small business and therefore, the money is spent as soon as it is received and it ends up in the hands and bank accounts of big business. In other words, it does not improve lives in the long run and when it does, it is only in a minimal scale by comparisson.
Salvadoreans are sending around 2.5 billion dollars (US $$) a year. Mexicans on the other hand are sending the equivalent of what the country produces in crude oil and the foreing investment combined. And most of that money goes mainly to provide spending cash for the families and relatives of the working immigrants.
So, where is all this money really going? If it's utilized to mainly pay for goods and services, a small part stays in the local economy and the greater portion, must go back to the producers, makers and processors of all those goods.
Maybe it's true that the money is primarily sustaining the consumerism frenzy which otherwise would be impossible for the poor in my country and thus creating dependency which results in less jobs fullfilled since people can time themselves to a small income via money order.
The number of businesses such as Western Union, Banco Agricola, Bank of America and many others alike have gone through the roof; and even the US Post Office is in the line of transferring funds to Mexico and other countries.
In 2005, I spent $10,000 to rebuild my aunt's and cousin's house. The house was desperately in need of real repairs. The roof was leaking everywhere. The floor tile dilapidated. The paint on the outside, around, and inside walls had decayed for decades. The water comming in from the roof and which had trickled running over the walls had damaged and streaked all the walls. The doors and windows were broken. The entire place looked like an abandoned old haggar house even though my family was still living in it. So, I decided to stepping and help with the cost of rebuilding and repairs. After getting a couple of quotes from local construction guys, we went with the one who seem to be the more experienced and much more technically savvy.
It paid off. He did a great job. When we went back on 2006. My wife and I were very pleased with the results. The house had been transformed into a place of dwelling. We were so pleased that we decided to throw in some new furniture as well. Good roof, good floor, windows, doors, a patio, a corridor protected with iron work, new kitchen, new bathroom and we also included plumbing ready to be hooked up to the water main. All drains connected to the street sewage. We were very pleased as to how things turned out. But I couldn't do it alone. My wife and I supplied the money; while a couple of friends supplied to logistics of talking to my family and the constructor and supervising the actual work and they were incharged of communicating with us all the time about the progress and result of the project by sending us pictures, scanned receipts for all materials and payments to the constructor, and an overall feeling as to where and how things were going. The end result was a complete success in providing a decent place for my family to live and for my cousin to raise her two young sons.
I would like to believe that our efforts as immigrants for the betterment of our families back home is worthwhile and that not everything is lost in a cra ze and frenzy of consumerism and spending.
