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.
The Cure For Intellectuality: Hard Physical Labor
There's a patch of dried, hard, compacted dirt turf in the backyard of my house. For years I've been saying that I would go to HomeDepot and buy me a pick and rip trhough that dirt and make it into a nice path with brick and plants and maybe even a gazebo or a barbeque pit on it.
Well, that day has finally arrived because on saturday, around 11:00 AM, got that pick (I actually borrowed it from a friend) and got to start digging and ripping and ... breaking my back? Yeah, that's right. The only thing I accomplished after 4 hours of hard intense labor was to get such a sored back and muscles that WHEEEW ... it hurts.
So far I've got 3/4 of it done.
After I finish ripping through that hard soil with the pick, my plan is to buy some soil builder or mulch, some fertilizer, and finely chopped tree bark to mix it into the soil with a little plowing machine, which I can rent from HomeDepot. After that is done, then, I'm going to get some pieces of bricks and large slabs of some kind of rock and lay a semi path on that 15'x25' with 4 small trees, some Mexican Sage and maybe even some Lilly of the Nile and a Lemmon tree.
The work has begun ... so, there's no stopping now.
Besides, I'm really enjoying it and maybe even shedding some pounds off while doing it.
We also bought a Japanese Orchid tree along with 3 rose bushes, and some yellow flowers with a dark brown center (have no idea what they're called). The rose bushes are now on the front yard while the yellow flowers are in a brown larg pot. The tree we will plant it maybe next week.
It was hard work but also a lot of fun... and it took my mind off all that intellectual stuff and war and yadah yadah yadah politics and church.
... and untill the next time... Ouch, my shoulder blade is pretty sore after all that shoveling and rippin the soil.
It used to be Communism... Now the new buzz word is Terrorism
The west, mainly the European Common Market of Western Europe and the United States, have for the most part of the 20th and the beginning of the 21st Century characterized themselves for fighting a common enemy. One which becomes the priority goal to defeat. An enemy that offers them the opportunity to define themselves and clearly define who the enemy is.
Communism used to be that enemy.
The political adversary. The threat. Maybe communism is still somewhat of an enemy but due to its collapse in the form of its most formidable proponent, the former Soviet Union, is only a half-dead or half-alive enemy and hence, no longer a threat.
In many parts of the world, primarily in Latin America, Communism became tamed Socialism without its world-take-over by military means rhetoric. After all, it may have been the socialism aspect of communism that initially appealed to people and which still finds attractive. Behind the socialist aspect of communism, the militia, the revolution, the hunger for power and control, the establishment by force and the shrinkage of individual freedom were to follow. The State became an all-power monster against the individual citizen, whose only role was to ensure the survival and continuity of the dictatorship rule of the communist ideology. Only the communist state matter. Individuals didn't count. They simply did not matter.
Today, that enemy is Terrorism.
Certainly terrorism is a much bigger and more ominous threat to the world order and world peace than communism. Whereas communism used to instill people with a sense of community-self-sufficiency ideology, terrorism aims at the destruction of which ever order appears to be the dominant economic and political force. Communism, at some level, proposed its views and fought to take over governments and run them based on their ideology. Communism was ans still is defined by clear boundaries of country and state and government. The enemy was clearly defined. It could be clearly located, and thus could be clearly fought against.
Thus far, terrorism does not appear to be interested in governing a country as to create havoc, destruction, panic and frightful fear in the hearts of the people it constantly intimidates while also creating a state of disheartening feeling on the people looking and trying to find solutions for the causes that terrorism apparently advocate because there is no end to the conflict and no end to the ungoverning lethal spirit of the terrorist. Terrorism does not yet represent a state with its own militia and government and does not yet forms part of the civil genuine political landscape of any country. Countries may support terrorist groups, harbor terrorist leaders, fund terrorist organizations, help terrorists with weapons and money to fund their armies and propaganda. But there are no clearly defined terrorist nations with terrorist government and a terrorist territory. In many cases, terrorism is just another strategically placed piece of the puzzle within a greater framework of political interest for countries which have become too familiar and too intimate with creating, promoting, harboring, and providing infrastructure for terrorist networks and organizations.
This commouflage of uncertainty and not well defined quality is a great weapon on the terrorist arsenal. They cohexist with the rest of us. There is an enormous degree of uncertainty as to who or where is a terrorist. Terrorists also exist in different types of ideology, making it much more difficult to clearly point with a finger, there goes a terrorist.
Terrorism and terrorists can be of any nation, from any background, from any place and go anywhere, meshing themselves into the fabric of everyday communities and everyday activities and everyday common places in life. Thus, making it extremely difficult to attack without also hurting the rest of the population. Terrorism and terrorists attack indiscriminate to make a statment, to create disorder and social unrest, to undermine the legitimately established governments and ultimately to create an unstable society. Terrorism and terrorists are a very lethal virulent even greater threat to the world than communism ever was.
Terrorism plays a game of chess and Russian roulette combined.
The wars being fought in Afganistan, Irak, and the newly form conflict between Israel and Hezbollah in Lebanon are clearly the beginnings of the campaings against terrorism.
It appears that the West has been somewhat successful at creating at least what appears to be the perception of a "terrorist territory" by engaging terrorists in a confined, well defined area.
It may also be very unfortunate that the people and communities who are not involved in terrorism and who are not part of any terrorist networks and organizations have to also pay the price of such effort to combat terrorism and terrorists. It is also very unfortunate that the great number of terrorists are of Arab nations and of Arab descent and ethnic groups and thus giving the impression that the Arabs are the terrorists just like we used to believe that all Russians were communists just like we believe today that all Cubans are also. Which was not necessarily true then and it's not necessarily true now either. People are simply caught between a rock and a hard place. The idea that communism made people atheist through their indoctrination is also applied to the belief that if you are a Muslim, you can be made into a terrorist.
There is a greater and growing perception that a terrorist and terrorism are both, Arab Muslim or Islamic, even when the great majority of Arabs and Muslims are not and do not advocate terrorism or terrorists. Somehow, be that by design and creation, or be that by the natural development of events and cirscumstances, Islam and the Middle East Region, mainly Arabic People, are being identified as Terrorism and Terrorists.
There are terrorists and terrorism everywhere in the world; however, what is perceived as the true enemy, the real terrorist and terrorism, or the TERRORISM with capital T, is the brand of insurrection and resistance in Irak, Afganistan, Palestine, and the Islamic countries of the Middle East. Hammas, Hezbollah, Jihadists, the Osamas of the world, the Sarqawies and the Hassans of the world are becomming more and more the defacto definition of Terrorism and Terrorists. Just like the Castros, the Ho-Chimings, the Maos, the Stalins, the Lennins, the Che Guevaras of the World helped to defined communism. Or the Hitlers and the Mussolinis and Francos helped defined Fascism. Or the Pinochetes, the Idiamins, and many others in Latin America and in Africa defined Dictatorships, so is today Terrorism being defined by ethnicity, religion, geographic region and affiliation to ardent political causes in the Islamic countries of the Middle East.
From the conceptual days of the mid 1800's to the late 20th century, communism took a little more than 100 years to come full circle. From concept to social discourse to political unrest to a form of government to its own political and economic policy failure, obviously with the exception of China which has allowed itself to be transformed be changed by the demands of modern life.
How long will it take for Terrorism and terrorists to come full circle? We have no idea and hardly anyone will know such answer.
One thing we know, if the world is to continue to exist in a certain favorable order for societies and communities to thrive and enjoy peace and tranquility, terrorism cannot win and it should be defeated.
How long? ... We don't know.
They say my accent should be okay
I was born in El Salvador in 1963... yep, that's a while ago. "But no matter Mr. McManus, kill away" (quote from the Usual Suspects as spoken by Kobayashi). I, along with a truck load of more than 2 million Salvadoreans that over a period of two decades, took the journey North to the States in search of a better life; or so we thought. Of course, in due time, such ambitious dream would become a reality but not without its fair share of abuse and suffering. I was 15.
Due primarily to the civil war and in part because I really had no say so whatsoever in the family's affairs, I was in a sort of lucky way, forced to leave my home in Apopa, a city 11 km north from downtown San Salvador for Los Angeles. A trip that proved to be more than harrowing. All of us who have taken such a trip since the time of human migrations accross regions of abundance and desperation, have been transformed. A definitive moment in my life.
So, here I am now, 27 years later speaking, breathing, reading, thinking and dreaming in English. However, by the way I speak it, you would probably think I arrived to this country just yesterday in a wagon pulled by donkeys. "But no matter Mr. McManus..." I am bilingual, fully bilingual with one big exception, most people who are truly bilingual speak English the way Americans speak English. English is spoken fluently and with the subtle pronunciations and intonations and clearly distinguishable words and letters that meshed into the perfectly fluid smooth stream of sounds. I speak English the way most housemaids speak English, with an overtly noticeable accent. Some words sound more like Spanish while others are half pronounced and some letters due to their proximity, makes it impossible to utter them.
Now, I know what you might be thinking. "No, I don't believe this guy. He seem to write fairly okay and knows where the commas and the periods go in a sentence and he is capable of constructing long winding sentences with more than just a few well placed words." But you know what, writting and constructing gramatically and syntatically correct language to communicate is one thing and speaking it with the "propper" pronunciation with the "right" intonation and "well phrased" syllables is a whole different horse... and therein my dear Sancho is where "le problem grand" lies.
But, for better or for worse, a friend of mine who happens to be a staunch red blooded conservative American, yep, Republican and all that bag of chips, told me that I need not to worry about how I sound because she told me "You should speak with your own accent just like the rest of us speak with our own accents." "Your accent", she said, "is your own heritage and you should never be ashamed of your heritage."
"Now we're talking", said I because believe it or not, at the end of the day, my tongue and my throat and cheeks literally hurt from speaking English... but when I speak Spanish.... aaaaaaah.. Voila! What a difference. My throat, my tongue, my cheeks and all the muscles are simply creamy relaxed and even my voice sounds different... like ME.. like My own SELF. It's like if my brain and all my anatomical structures that produce speech ore one well oiled machine.
