Bodies in Movement: Developing a Latin American Feminist Identity Through Family, Memory, and Geographical and Inter-lingual Spaces
“What we talk about when we talk about love…”Antonio Alfaro
La Familia Alfaro Nacio hace 125 Años[1]
If someone were to ask me, “Where are you from?” I would respond, “I am a descendant of my maternal great-grandparents, love at first sight.” Antonio Alfaro must have seen Elena Gomez sitting near a balcony window, laid his eyes upon her beautiful face, and decided to leave his mother and father behind in Spain.
***
I incessantly ask your youngest daughter to share stories about you. Her body, even now at 97 years of age, remembers the adoration of her father. Every syllable streaming from her mouth conveys tenderness. María de Jesús always begins her stories about you like this: “Mi Papá me quería mucho. El me quería tanto que nunca dejo que me asoleara. También nos puso profesor ahí en la casa. Nos quería a todas, pero su vida era María Luisa.” [2]
A feminist pioneer in your own right, you sent your first-born child María Luisa to live in San Salvador. Your daughter led a difficult life. She suffered from a broken heart, and birthed two children out of wedlock. She also developed a severe sickness soon after the birth of her son, and my father, Rene. The Hospital Militar in San Salvador, El Salvador treated her for pulmonary tuberculosis. María Luisa passed away two years after her operation.
You desired to care for daughter even after her death, and for that reason you purchased a beautiful piece of land to lay María Luisa’s body to rest. You would remain her loving father regardless of what had occurred. However, no amount of words or demonstrations of love could repair the damage done to your heart. You could not withstand the loss of your first-born child, and consequently died of a broken heart.
***
Tío Salvador told me that you wore “boots up to here,” had a long, white beard, and would call him Mi Coronel.[3] That same week, I saw Tío Salva sitting on a hammock with his grandson Andi. They were playing horse, as Tío Salva sang rata tan tan, a song he remembers you singing to him when he was a child. Tío Salva is your only grandchild that remembers you.
***
You would’ve been my favorite, and I’m sure I would’ve been yours because grandmother was your favorite since she was the baby; mom would’ve been your favorite because she was the baby; and I would be your favorite because I am the baby and I look just like grandmother.
***
You were the first root I excavated this summer. Only a few of your thirsting descendants have absorbed the nutrients of your story, while many others have lost the essence that anchors them to El Salvador. These days, the heart of our existence stems from your youngest daughter, my Abuelita Jesús.
[1] The Alfaro family was born 125 years ago.
[2] My father loved me very much. He loved me so much that he wouldn’t let me stay in the sun. He also paid for a private teacher to come to our house. He loved us all, but his life was Maria Luisa.
