Photo credit: E.Yoshio

When I was 22 and just out of college, I joined the Peace Corps and was shipped off to West Africa.  After a few months of training, a Peace Corps driver dropped me and my few possessions off in a remote village of 900 people, which was to be my home for the next two years.  Fortunately, I was able to talk to the handful of people of my village who spoke French, which was the official language.  Everyone else spoke a language called Bambara, and learning it became an all-consuming endeavor for me.  People were amazingly kind and it’s surprising how much you can communicate with only rudimentary language skills, but I yearned for more complex conversations.

So learn the language I did, and I learned the dynamics of the village and made friends.  Still, people thought I was a little strange.  Why would I leave the comfort of America (though I explained that I was not entirely from America) and move to their country, alone, and live in a mud hut and eat millet and work in the fields?  It didn’t quite add up, and though I formed some wonderful relationships, I was regarded as a bit of an oddity.

Then my parents came to visit.  The trip from Costa Rica was long and expensive, but my mother had her heart set on visiting me there.  So they made the trek out to my village, and we spent many evenings just hanging out in my front yard, drinking tea and chatting with anyone who came by–which was just about everyone, since the visitors were quite the attraction.  And during these evenings of easy conversation, as I interpreted for my parents, I heard my friends and neighbors whisper to each other, “Listen, she calls her father ‘Dad.’  She calls her mother ‘Ma.’”  They were fascinated by what I called my parents, and this fascination did not let up for several weeks.  Meeting my parents, watching us interact with each other and hearing what names I called them made me more relatable, less foreign.  In a culture where family ties mean everything, seeing where I came from gave people some insight that they had previously lacked.

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When I was in high school, I wanted to be a teacher.  For a time, I even thought I would go into special education.  I was fascinated by the subject and read everything I could about the subject, mostly books by special education teachers who wrote about their experiences in the classroom.  One of the books included the story of a little boy of about six or seven, a boy who had autism.  And I remember his mother in the story, whose one desire was for her son to someday call her “Mama.”

Two decades later, both of my own sons were diagnosed with autism, and I panicked when I thought of that story.  What if they never called me mama? Though well-meaning family and friends assured me that they would be just fine, those reassurances rang hollow.  My boys could easily point to Mama in a picture, but they never used the word “Mama” to get my attention.  They never called me anything.

When Secondo suddenly began to preface his sentences with “Mama” last year, he was nearly five years old and it came as a complete surprise.  But I was even more surprised when, after that, he began to call me “Mamá.”  Pronounced as you would in Spanish, with the accent on the second syllable.  I knew exactly where he got it.  Children with autism are often echolalic, and repeat lines they’ve heard before somewhere else.  When Secondo speaks, it’s usually obvious to me if he’s repeating something he’s heard on TV, or at school, or a book I’ve read out loud.  “Mamá,” I knew, came from our Costa Rican babysitter’s daughter, who usually tagged along and was constantly asking her mother Mamá Mamá Mamá this or that.  He mimicked her intonation perfectly.

After autism, I have become as fascinated as my former neighbors were by what people call their parents.  I always called my mother the more modern “Mami,” or “Ma” for short, though if I was talking about her in English, I would refer to her as “Mom.”  Now I often call her “Madre mía” when I’m joking around.  “Mamita” if I want something.  She called her own mother “Mamá,” which I always thought was sweet and quaint.  My father was always “Dad,” and though I always referred to him in Spanish as “Papi” or “Pa,” I never called him that to his face.  So much meaning is wrapped up in the names I call my parents–the love I have for them, our different cultures, our relationships, our languages.

I never expected to be called “Mamá,” even before autism.  I suppose I assumed that since we lived in the U.S., I would be “Mom.”  I listen as Secondo alternates between “Mama” and “Mamá,” and as Primo now follows his brother’s lead and imitates him.  Their teacher refers to me as “Mommy,” and they repeat the name after her, thoughtfully, as if trying it out for size.

To be honest, I stopped worrying about my boys calling me “Mama” a while ago, realizing that it was not the most important thing in the world.  But I love that it’s finally happened, and am curious to see how my name evolves.

What do your children call you?  Where does the name come from?  I really am fascinated.

Orocovis, Puerto Rico

Alegre vengo de la montaña
de mi cabaña que alegre está
y a mis amigos les traigo flores
de las mejores de mi rosal.
Y a mis amigos les traigo flores
de las mejores de mi rosal.

This song plays in loop in my head all Christmas season long. I learned it in third grade and it takes me back to a very small apartment, in a very Italian neighborhood, where I was a little girl very attached to her Abuela. She lived with us and was then, as she still remains now even long after her passing, an incredible influence in my life. She came from a small town in Puerto Rico called Orocovis. If you ever wanted to visit, pick the center most spot on the Puerto Rican map and there amongst the gorgeous verdant mountains, full of lush vegetation, banana trees thick with fruit, and sugar cane ready to chop and eat, is this little town. The nights are pitch dark and the stars are clear in view. And of course the chorus of coquís fills your ears and lulls you to sleep in such a glorious manner.

As the season would draw near, the anticipation for the foods she would prepare became greater. Even as I aged out of the excitement over Santa’s coming visit, I never lost my fever for my Abuela’s arroz con dulce. When I saw that she had bought the coconut, there was nothing else I could think of. And when she brought out the hammer to get into it, I was right there to witness it. She always drained the coconut water into a cup first and gave it to me. And with delight I would drink it up as she watched and laughed with love. Then I would watch her strong hands break the coconut open and tear the flesh out. Next she would take out the good ol’ standing hand grater and grate the coconut by hand. Soon she’d go into the kitchen and by then it was my bed time. The next morning I would see the plate of perfectly milk white arroz con dulce dotted with raisins and always whine that she didn’t make enough.

Her hand grater spent a good amount of time in use during the Christmas season, for she hand grated all the vegetable for the pasteles as well. If you have ever handled a raw yucca or yautía, you can probably appreciate what a feat that was. She would let mix the masa, pour the milk and salt it to taste. And then when it came time, I would help in the wrapping of the actual pasteles. Being in the pasteles production line with my mother and Abuela was such a special thing to me. It was what made the season not only important, but real to me. I don’t remember what I got every year for Christmas, but I remember the sights, sounds, smells and joys of the Christmas foods and traditions my Abuela passed down to me.

My Christmas traditions come directly from my beloved Abuela. And while I have updated the equipment, trading in the hand grater for a cuisine art, the foods and traditions are the same. I still buy a coconut to break open and divide the water amongst my children, but instead of making one plate full of arroz con dulce, I make two trays. My children are now getting to be old enough to learn to make pasteles, and so perhaps this year they will join the assembly process. The pernil will be in the oven, the arroz con gandules on the stove top and for my daughter, I will make the sancocho she has been asking for since early November. My children never met my Abuela, but through the foods and traditions I pass down to them from her, they remain strongly linked to her, as I have always been.

Si me dan pasteles,
dénmelos calientes,
que pasteles fríos empachan la gente Si me dan arroz
no me den cuchara,
que mamá me dijo
que se lo llevara.

Melissa is a mother of four children. In the tradition of many Hispanic families, her maternal grandmother lived with them.  Melissa´s drive to raise her children in as many of the traditions as she was raised in, is the best way she could come up with to keep her Abuela close to her.  You can get close to Melissa through her blog, Mis Hijos También.

Is there a place or person that binds you to your heritage and traditions?

Your Bicultural Holiday Traditions continues tomorrow with a story from Adriana, My Bilingual Boys, who shares with us how she´s keeping in touch with her Mexican heritage through the holiday traditions.  Make sure you’re subscribed to our feed either by RSS or email so you don’t miss a beat.

Photo by striatic

Hola! We’re excited to share a few great blogs with you this Sunday as part of our weekly roundup! We hope you enjoy them and if you know of any more, please send them our way…

1. Exposure to 2 Languages Carries Far-Reaching Benefits – People who can speak two languages are more adept at learning a new foreign language than their monolingual counterparts, according to research conducted at Northwestern University. And their bilingual advantage persists even when the new language they study is completely different from the languages they already know. Yet another study that shows the benefits of learning more than one language…

2. Ten Things You Can Do for the Dream Act – If you’ve been reading our blog for a while, you know we’re big supporters of this Act. These are simple and easy things you can do to make this happen. I actually have already done 4 of them and it took me 3 minutes. So please go there and do what you can to help out!

3. Limonada – Esta es la receta más rápida y más efectiva de preparar una deliciosa y refrescante limonada. Al principio me sorprendí cuando vi poner el limón entero, unas cuantas tazas de agua y azúcar en la licuadora, estaba segura de que iba a ser un desastre y que el sabor iba a ser muy amargo; pero luego de cernirla quedé asombrada de lo deliciosa que estaba,  tenía un ligero sabor amargo pero en realidad eso mejoraba la limonada. I’ve been craving a nice, cold limonada for way too long! Now I have the perfect recipe, go try it for yourself and let us know what you think!

4) How Does a Trilingual Kid Learn English? – I bet after reading the post of my family and how the heck we ended up in Costa Rica, you’re most amazed with my son’s ability to speak three languages. For many families out there who are seriously considering following this path, trust me it is sooooooooo worth it!!!!!!!!! Yet, like everything else in this life, there is hard work involved. An interesting read about our fellow mamá boguera, Marina, about her personal experience raising a trilingual child.

5) Breakfast with Juan Soler – Thanks to this invitation from Honey Nut Cheerios, Ana got to meet some very cool mamá blogueras such as Sylvia, Dariela and Angie. Go ahead, check them out!

Y lo mejor para el final…

6) Tiki Tiki Blog - We are sooooo happy to announce the launch of this new blog which contains stories with cultura, color and sabor and it’s a collaboration between some of our favorite mamá blogueras, including Carrie (Bilingual in the Boonies) and Violeta (Multi-Culti Mami) and other incredible Latinas. Please check it out as soon as you can, you’re going to love it. Plus, they have a great giveaway going on right now!

If you like what we’re talking about sign up for free SpanglishBaby updates via email or via RSS. You’ll like it.

Photo by phoosh

Happy Mami’s Day to one and all! Ana and I both hope you have a wondrous day – whatever you end up doing. ¡Felicidades!

Over at my house, we’re praying the weather cooperates so we can take a trip to the Rocky Mountains, but before I leave, here’s our weekly roundup… Enjoy!

1) 5 Amazing Ways Music Can Teach Your Child a Foreign Language – A really wonderful (and easy) way to introduce a second language to your child is through music. Little kids absolutely love music and kids six and under tend to learn languages faster and easier than adults, especially if given the chance to do so in a fun and stress-free environment. Another great reason to love M-U-S-I-C-A!!

2) Los Bebés Pueden Distinguir un Tercer Idioma – Los bebés que viven en hogares bilingües pueden distinguir dos y hasta tres idiomas, es una de las conclusiones de las investigaciones del equipo de psicología de la Universitat de Barcelona, liderado por la psicóloga Núria Sebastián. Even though this is in Spanish, we thought we’d share it with you in case you – like me – are interested in introducing a third language.

3) All in the Familia – A clan of Miami musicians come together to celebrate three generations of mothers with a Cuban-themed party. Read this, even if it’s only for the recipes, they look yummy!

4) Michelle Obama’s Favorite Food? Mexican – Tortillas, moles, rice and beans, tamales and quesadillas — yes, Michelle Obama loves Mexican food of all kinds, she told some D.C. school children recently. Who would’ve thought it?

5) ‘Rudo y Cursi:’ Y tu hermano también – Gael García Bernal and Diego Luna were dying to work together again after the international success of their 2001 film “Y Tu Mamá También,” but nothing they were offered seemed to fit. Then Carlos Cuarón, who wrote “Y Tu Mamá,” approached them with a screenplay about two squabbling stepbrothers, hicks from the Mexican sticks who rise to the heights of soccer superstardom, then fall rapidly back to Earth. I don’t particularly care for García Bernal – sorry Ana – but I like Luna and I admire the work of the Cuarón brothers, so this should be a great film. We’ll see if it makes it to theaters in my neck of the woods…

6) Reflexión para el Día de la Madre – One of my favorite people in the world – my dear cousin who is only 9 months older than I am and whom I miss dearly (she lives in Perú) – sent me this and I though it was so sweet, I wanted to share it with you.

Ah… y gracias, mamá for everything you’ve done and continue to do for me (y mi familia), and for the awesome and unique woman you are!

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