Family Lore
So in talking to my aunt and my grandma casually this afternoon, I learned a variety of stories about my family which I thought I'd store here before I forgot them.
Many, many years ago, in the little island of Curaçao, there was a Jewish-Dutch plantation/compound owned by the Van Ardemans [I am guessing on the spelling]. The Van Ardemans, being plantation owners, of course owned slaves as these were in the days far before the emancipation of the slaves in the islands. One of them was a beautiful woman who they named as the Keeper of the Keys ("Doña de las Llaves"). One day, an Indian (or should I say a native of the Americas?) from Colombia or Venezuela [the details are fuzzy] came across the water on his boat to the compound on the island to sell his wares and do some work. He saw the beautiful Keeper of the Keys, and fell in love with her. He went to the Van Ardemans and asked if he could marry their slave woman. He was given permission, and the couple were soon deeply in love. Of course, she was still a slave and he was a potter from another country, but they managed to find a way to live together and be happy, and their joy was even greater when at least the emancipation of the island slaves came about and the potter's beautiful wife was freed.
Later in our history, there is a story about how our family became Seventh-Day Adventists. Apparently, Machi and Pachi (that would be my father's father's parents, or my great-grandparents) moved to Cuba from Curaçao during a time when things were not going well in their native island and Cuba looked more promising. Adventists were setting out to evangelize to the islands at this time, and a man soon came to Machi and Pachi's door. He sat with Pachi on the porch, telling him about the Adventist faith. Now Machi, who was a very devout Catholic, did was listening from inside at the window, and did not appreciate the words of the evangelist. She stormed out the front door, and without a word of warning picked the man up in his chair and threw him and his chair right off the porch! The man, though stunned, gingerly picked himself up, dusted himself off and said while calmly handing back the chair, "You'll be needing this for your next guest". Machi was so impressed by his behavior that the next time he came, she allowed him to sit on her porch unmolested and eventually accepted his message.
Later still, after my grandfather was born and the family had moved back to Curaçao as hard times fell on Cuba, my grandfather grew and reached an age where he fell in love with a girl. He was determined to marry her, but Machi disapproved of her because the girl had an aunt of ill-repute. My grandfather said, "I am going to marry her!" Machi said, "Oh, no, you are not! You are going to go to Cuba and study at the university there." Grandfather was not interested in leaving his love and going to Cuba, but Machi was determined. The next day, when my grandfather came home, he found his bags packed and a ticket for Cuba waiting for him. Because it was during the age when young men did not fight with their mothers and also because of Machi's strong will and character, grandfather acquiesced and went away to Cuba. And it is a good thing he did so, because there he met and fell in love with my grandmother, and if that had not been the case I would have never been bore to tell the tale. :)
Other family details to remember:
-My grandmother's mother was from Jamaica but moved to Cuba later on. Her first husband was an Irishman by the name (I think) of Breman. They were married and happy, but he went away to help build the Panama Canal. What the American government failed to make known was that there were horrible swarms of mosquitoes and very bad outbreaks of yellow fever that killed a large number of men. My great-grandmother's husband fell victim to the disease, and died. From that point on, she harbored feelings of ill-will towards the United States.
Years later, well after the Cuban Revolution and Castro's rise to power, there came exodus of the "Marielitos" during the Mariel Boatlift. As wikipedia has it:
"Marielito is a term applied to roughly 125,000 people who fled to the United States from the Cuban port of Mariel as part of the exodus of refugees in 1980 ... Because a number of prisoners were released alongside other refugees, an impression developed of "Marielitos", and even Cuban exiles in general, as being criminals."
As my grandma tells the story, the deal was that Castro said, "Alright, whoever wants to leave can do so provided that their family can come and claim them." So Cubans flocked to Miami to rent commercial and pleasure boats in order to reach Cuba and retrieve their families. But when they got to the island, Castro said, "Yes, you can take you families, but you must also take these people" and he loaded up all the prisoners, prostitutes, homosexuals and mentally handicapped people and sent them to the States. Many, though by no means all, of the prisoners were reported to the American government, and were re-jailed upon arrival. However, Miami apparently changed considerably after the influx of "Marielitos", and the perception of Cubans changed from them being a hard-working, quiet community to something else at this time as well.
Interestingly enough, this bit of history affects my family. My grandma apparently asked her mother to come, but her mother would not leave. (It was funny watching my aunt's shocked reaction...she hadn't known that before today). She had never forgotten her feelings of animosity to the United States for the death of her husband.
Many, many years ago, in the little island of Curaçao, there was a Jewish-Dutch plantation/compound owned by the Van Ardemans [I am guessing on the spelling]. The Van Ardemans, being plantation owners, of course owned slaves as these were in the days far before the emancipation of the slaves in the islands. One of them was a beautiful woman who they named as the Keeper of the Keys ("Doña de las Llaves"). One day, an Indian (or should I say a native of the Americas?) from Colombia or Venezuela [the details are fuzzy] came across the water on his boat to the compound on the island to sell his wares and do some work. He saw the beautiful Keeper of the Keys, and fell in love with her. He went to the Van Ardemans and asked if he could marry their slave woman. He was given permission, and the couple were soon deeply in love. Of course, she was still a slave and he was a potter from another country, but they managed to find a way to live together and be happy, and their joy was even greater when at least the emancipation of the island slaves came about and the potter's beautiful wife was freed.
Later in our history, there is a story about how our family became Seventh-Day Adventists. Apparently, Machi and Pachi (that would be my father's father's parents, or my great-grandparents) moved to Cuba from Curaçao during a time when things were not going well in their native island and Cuba looked more promising. Adventists were setting out to evangelize to the islands at this time, and a man soon came to Machi and Pachi's door. He sat with Pachi on the porch, telling him about the Adventist faith. Now Machi, who was a very devout Catholic, did was listening from inside at the window, and did not appreciate the words of the evangelist. She stormed out the front door, and without a word of warning picked the man up in his chair and threw him and his chair right off the porch! The man, though stunned, gingerly picked himself up, dusted himself off and said while calmly handing back the chair, "You'll be needing this for your next guest". Machi was so impressed by his behavior that the next time he came, she allowed him to sit on her porch unmolested and eventually accepted his message.
Later still, after my grandfather was born and the family had moved back to Curaçao as hard times fell on Cuba, my grandfather grew and reached an age where he fell in love with a girl. He was determined to marry her, but Machi disapproved of her because the girl had an aunt of ill-repute. My grandfather said, "I am going to marry her!" Machi said, "Oh, no, you are not! You are going to go to Cuba and study at the university there." Grandfather was not interested in leaving his love and going to Cuba, but Machi was determined. The next day, when my grandfather came home, he found his bags packed and a ticket for Cuba waiting for him. Because it was during the age when young men did not fight with their mothers and also because of Machi's strong will and character, grandfather acquiesced and went away to Cuba. And it is a good thing he did so, because there he met and fell in love with my grandmother, and if that had not been the case I would have never been bore to tell the tale. :)
Other family details to remember:
-My grandmother's mother was from Jamaica but moved to Cuba later on. Her first husband was an Irishman by the name (I think) of Breman. They were married and happy, but he went away to help build the Panama Canal. What the American government failed to make known was that there were horrible swarms of mosquitoes and very bad outbreaks of yellow fever that killed a large number of men. My great-grandmother's husband fell victim to the disease, and died. From that point on, she harbored feelings of ill-will towards the United States.
Years later, well after the Cuban Revolution and Castro's rise to power, there came exodus of the "Marielitos" during the Mariel Boatlift. As wikipedia has it:
"Marielito is a term applied to roughly 125,000 people who fled to the United States from the Cuban port of Mariel as part of the exodus of refugees in 1980 ... Because a number of prisoners were released alongside other refugees, an impression developed of "Marielitos", and even Cuban exiles in general, as being criminals."
As my grandma tells the story, the deal was that Castro said, "Alright, whoever wants to leave can do so provided that their family can come and claim them." So Cubans flocked to Miami to rent commercial and pleasure boats in order to reach Cuba and retrieve their families. But when they got to the island, Castro said, "Yes, you can take you families, but you must also take these people" and he loaded up all the prisoners, prostitutes, homosexuals and mentally handicapped people and sent them to the States. Many, though by no means all, of the prisoners were reported to the American government, and were re-jailed upon arrival. However, Miami apparently changed considerably after the influx of "Marielitos", and the perception of Cubans changed from them being a hard-working, quiet community to something else at this time as well.
Interestingly enough, this bit of history affects my family. My grandma apparently asked her mother to come, but her mother would not leave. (It was funny watching my aunt's shocked reaction...she hadn't known that before today). She had never forgotten her feelings of animosity to the United States for the death of her husband.