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…”Baby Uncle and Aunts
my baby uncle and aunts
Twelve fetuses began growing inside María de Jesús’s womb…one every two years. Eleven were birthed, and eight grew to adulthood.
Tío Mario, her second child, survived until the age of two. He was un niño hermoso[1]: smart, always laughing, the perfect child. One morning, while playing in el Guatal,[2] he fell off a tree. His mother tells me that he suffered from a brain hemorrhage. Tío Mario was the first child Fernando and María de Jesús lost.
Tía Dora and Tía María de Jesús were their baby girls. Tía Dora was older than Tía María de Jesús. Le hicieron ojo. Un hombre se le quedó viendo y cuando llegamos a la casa ya tenía fiebre. Asi se murió.[3] Tía María de Jesús, the youngest of their children, passed away during the 7.7 magnitude earthquake of nine-teen fifty. Her mother recalls the red-orange earth ripping open, swallowing people whole, and shaking the life out of her newborn child. Fernando insisted that he needed a photograph of his beautiful baby girl. Soon after 10:05AM he ran to Jucuapa, Nueva Guadalupe and Chinameca in search of a photographer, but Fernando arrived too late, all three towns had already been destroyed.
The deaths of my baby uncle and aunts make me think, not of the loss of a mother, but the loss of a father. I have heard stories of my Abuelito Fernando, a man of few words, shorter than his wife, and a gentle heart…simple and pure.
Despite when I think about my late Tío Mario, Tía Dora and Tía María de Jesús, I always picture them as infants. They never grew up, but they were born many, many years ago. My uncle and aunts have remained small enough for me to carry in my arms, look into their eyes, and pretend that I was their aunt; and for my Abuelita Jesús, they will forever remain her babies…all three, keeping each other company, sleeping side by side.
