Category: Early Years

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Rich Boy – Part 1

In loving memory of my mother.

It was one those intense days of my boyhood when I was in the third grade and went to school only once in a while. Mostly, just to see what was going on. In those days, I went and spent time with the shoe shine boys at the “parque central” (central park) because I wanted to stay away from my mean teacher and the bullies.

A bus similar to the one my father drove for EGA at the time of this story.

My father was a public bus driver. He drove a green bus that was number 47 for EGA (one of the many public transportation companies). Every morning he would get up very early and venture out into the dark. I remember watching him say goodbye to my mom after having a cup of coffee. I felt kind of bad for him because he had to get up so early. I was just up to go to the bathroom and then back to bed. I was grateful for a hard working father and glad that I was a kid and didn’t have to work like that…yet.

At night, when he returned from his shift, he would come home to count the money from the bus fares to make sure he was not short or over the required amount. If he had extra in his “fichero” (money tray) he would get to keep it. He called that his “moco.” Every night, when he got home, my brothers and I would rush to greet him and get in his bus to check under the seats for loose coins and goods that people would leave behind. We would lift the seat cushions and find everything from combs,to nail clippers, to guitar picks, to coins and of course trash.

My father about the time of this story.

On this particular night, I found something extraordinary! Something that would change my life. I found a wallet!! When I saw it, I felt a serious adrenaline rush like never before. I grabbed it and quickly put it in my pocket without telling my brothers about it. My heart was pounding as I looked at my brothers arguing over a little toy they had found. They both claimed to have seen it first. I felt as if I had found a dead man and was trying to cover it up! After searching the bus for treasures, the routine was to sweep the floor of the bus so that it would be clean for the next day.

As we swept the floor, I couldn’t stop thinking about the wallet in my pocket. It was burning my leg! “Why are you so quiet?” my brothers asked. Usually I would sing to the top of my voice during sweeping time to enjoy the reverberations around the bus. I didn’t say anything because I was afraid my voice would give me away. When we went inside, my father was done with his accounting and left to return the bus to the parking lot. I went into the bathroom which was outdoors and across the yard. Usually, I didn’t venture there alone because I was dreadfully afraid of the dark. I had to light a match to see by the dark. What was inside the wallet? My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I actually felt dizzy. I opened the fold and almost passed out. A bunch of money!! Twenty three Quetzales! Back then this was equivalent to twenty three dollars. Ahhhhh!

To be continued…

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Day Old Bread

My older brother Armando was a real character and was always coming up with ways to get something to eat. When I was seven years old and he was eleven, he came up with the idea of going around the city and asking the owners of restaurants for day old bread. It worked and we usually got some for a snack and some to take home.

Other times, we would get turned down and Armando would make up some type of story to make the restaurant owner feel sorry for us. Often, he would use me as a prop. He would have me lay down on a doorstep and pretend I was asleep. Then without me knowing it, he would tell them I was sick. Bingo! We would get some bread.

However, one day he asked the wrong guy. We went to a restaurant and Armando played his trick. The owner came out to see me and asked me if I was sick. When I said no, he chased us away. What we didn’t know was that he knew us and my father. That was the end of that awesome trick! When we got home we both got spanked and sent to bed.

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My Family (Part 2) – Lots and lots of kids!

Both of my parents had been previously married when they met, so when I was born they already had three kids to care for. Not too long after, three of my cousins came to live with us. Oscar, Marina and Percy were very young when my aunt Maria passed away. They were left in the care of their grandmother from their father’s side of the family. Their father at the time, a struggling young man, could not cope with the children and left them with his mom and was absent for a long time.

Several members of my family around 1979. Back row (left to right) is Sheny, my nephew Hector, Hugo, Mama Tula, my mother, and my father. Front row (left to right) is Jorge and Juan Fernando.

Times got hard and not having enough money to keep the kids fed, as well as feeling her strength leave because of her age, the precious old lady had no choice but to part ways with the kids. Mama Tula, my grandmother, was the first one to find out that the kids were being offered to different neighbors and to anybody who wanted to care for them. When my father and mother heard about the situation they adopted them without hesitation.

Oscar, Percy and Marina came to live with us, and in time, so did sweet Mama Tula. She was a very interesting grandma. She always had a story to tell us, and almost always the stories had something to do with the Bible. Often it would be about something tragic that happened to someone for not listening to God or their parents. The story about the lady that turned into a pillar of salt (Lot’s wife) always scared me to death! Still, I always requested it. Reading the same story today, I can’t help but to think of her wrinkled little face looking into space as if she could see something we could not. With a very natural air, she would tell the story, always adding her own little spice to it. Anything to get us to behave!

As long as I can remember, Mama Tula was already old, and she was so sweet. She took care of us when my mom went out to work, and my brothers and I became very attached to her, enjoying her kindness and care. She lived with us always till the day she went to heaven. Living in the united States, twenty nine years later, I heard the news of her passing in Guatemala from my mom. It was a sad day. I will treasure my sweet memories of her forever.

My and my younger siblings as adults around 2008. Left to right – Me (Otto), Juan Fernando, Jorge, Sheny, and Hugo.

Our family continued to grow. I was followed by Jorge, Hugo, Sheny, and Juan Fernando. My older brothers were Rafael, Edgar and Armando, together with my cousins Oscar, Marina, and Percy we grew up loving each other and making the best of our lives together.

It was hard for my father to provide for a family that was so big. We saw some hard times, and consequently, we older kids found ways to help out at a very early age doing any type of job we could find. Rafael worked as a helper at a body shop, Oscar worked as a helper at the Italian bakery with Don Juan, and Edgar (who we called “Chino”) would occasionally sell “verengena” (egg plant) in the marketplace. He would shout his sales pitch at the top of his voice. He later joked at how embarrassing it was.

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The Cowboys

The bread smelled good. I loved walking by the bakery and dreaming of a piece of sweet bread melting in my mouth. It was rainy, we were cold and wet. The cows walked with a lazy rhythm as my brother Armando and I led them back home. Don Julio, as always, was at the door waiting for us and would give us our pay for grazing and caring for his cows who he called “La Muca” and “La Chiva.”

We would spend the afternoons looking for empty lots in our neighborhood Monte Verde in Guatemala City. The year was 1969. I was 11 years old and Armando was 13. Empty lots had nice long grass and would give the cows a good place to graze. While they were eating, we would challenge other kids to a game of marbles, a game of tip-top, or join in a game of street soccer. Sometimes we would get so caught up in the games that we would not notice the cows wandering away as they ate and we had to go find them in the tall brush. It was scary because they could fall into the ravine and die. This had already happened to other cows in the neighborhood. Don Julio knew we were dependable…most of the time.

One time when a cow fell into the ravine, there was a great commotion because as soon as it happened people rushed down, knives in hand and helped themselves to the meat. By the time the owner was notified, there was nothing left but guts, blood, and pieces of the rhine. This treatment was normal and was also applied to a car that had been stolen and then abandoned in the neighborhood. The kids started playing in it and then it was pushed into the ravine where it was dismantled by the local mechanics who were glad to get parts. Later, we played in it and pretended to be in a movie.

Taking care of the cows was kind of boring. Sometimes we would just fall asleep in the bushes and hope the cows would stay nearby. Usually they did, because they knew we had corn in our pockets and would feed it to them as a treat. They would lay down next to us and chew their cud. People would call my brother Jim West, a clever cowboy TV figure at the time. The reason they called him that was because he was a really good fighter and because he took care of cows. They called him a cowboy and me Gordon, his sidekick.

Still a bit of a cowboy.

The udders on the cows got so big sometimes that they seemed very uncomfortable. I would go home, get a pitcher, and milk the cows. My mom was glad for the free milk. I learned in school about Romulus and Remus, the twin boys, that according to the legend had been found in the woods by a mother wolf who nursed them and as they grew they founded Rome and became the first kings. I always wondered about that. When I told my brother that story, he sat there listening with a blank stare. I guess the story really impacted him. Then after a couple of minutes, his face broke into a big grin as if a great revelation had him him. That was it! It had to be it! We were meant to be kings! So, without much thought, we crawled under one of the cows and began to suck on the tits like Romulus and Remus did. The idea was that after we did that we would just live our lives and let destiny take its course and we would become kings… somehow.

After a few seconds we darted from under the cow gagging and in the end we both threw up! The milk tasted terrible, the tits were bitter, and smelled gross! Never again! Forget it! I hadn’t been convinced of the idea anyway! The cows just looked at us and went back to grazing. We sat there for a while looking at each other in silence then broke into laughter and promised not to tell anyone. I haven’t… at least until now.