Amy here. (You know, The Blond One. Please bear that in mind as you read today.)
Since Tio Timbiriche has been visiting from Cuba, I’ve been very busy showing him the sites of Southern Cali. I’m the official driver and, as such, I have certain responsibilities. For example, I have to tell him when I’ll be picking him up (and arrive at the house early enough to make us cafecitos). But the most important thing on these long drives (to San Diego or Temecula or L.A.) is the music.
Once we are on the road, Timbiriche starts paying attention to the music and is so excited to be listening to songs he recognizes. He was getting a real kick out of quizzing me on what the songs were about (and explaining them when I didn’t know) or who they were by. He could not believe it when I played his beloved Beny Moré (and knew he was called "El Barbaro del Ritmo") and was pleasantly surprised to find out that I also knew who (and could sing along with) old school groups like Trio Matamoros, Orquesta Aragon, and Fajardo y Su Orquesta were. Enter blond moment.
The song "Caimitillo y Marañon" comes on and I begin whistling along to Jose’s flute. Because I’ve known this song for so long, I haven’t stopped to think about the words now that my Spanish has been voted most improved. Mentally, I’ve stuck with the translation I came up with years ago which is that "Caimitillo, Mamoncillo, & Marañon" were three dance styles and there was a cowardly girl ("cobarde") who didn’t want to do the "marañon" dance because it was too . . . tight or close together or something like that. (My young mind also wondered why everyone loved a song with that kind of message so much, but – like mom says – that’s not important right now.)
Anyway, as I’m singing along, Timbiriche turns to me and asks if I know what the song is about. During the pause while I tried to find the words for my rough translation, Timbiriche asked what he thought was a less complex question, whether I knew what a "marañon" was.
Nope. No clue. What is it?
At this point, my Abuela decides to jump in and help explain it to me. Between the two of them and my lack of vocabulary, what I was able to gather was that a "marañon" was a fruit that was delicious but you make a funny face when you eat it and the seed is on the outside and works like a handle. I could’ve accepted that and gone on with my life never really knowing what it was other than a Cuban fruit, but then my abuela threw me a curve ball . . . She said that the seed of this fruit is cooked and sold in stores here (in the U.S.) as if it was a nut.
HUH?
In order to help me understand, she tried telling me the word in her version of English, "Cas-co."
I’m sorry, did she just say Cosco? They sell this fruit at Cosco? I’m LOST.
Let’s not forget that I’m driving on the freeway which means asking Mr. Google is out of the question so I do the next best thing . . . I text Mom: "What is a maranon?" (I figured that if I knew the English name of the fruit, I’d understand the whole seed/nut concept)
Mom writes back to tell me "it doesn’t translate." Not trusting her Spanish skills, I send the same message to everyone else I know who speaks Spanish. This group includes two of my Tias, a Peruvian, and a couple of (recently arrived) Cuban friends.
I heard it all:
"There is no real translation."
"A big pig" (I later found out that this answer was a direct result of the lack of "ñ" in my text message – can someone please call Verizon and get them working on this issue?)
And then . . . "Cashew."
CASHEW?!?!?!
When Abuela heard me yell it out, she gave me the classic Cuban sound of approval, "Ang-ha!" mixed with an "I told you so" look.
Yeah, abuela, "Cas-co." sounds just like "Cashew."
As it turns out, "Caimitillo" and "Mamoncillo" are also fruits . . .
(And No, I never did end up sharing my – obviously wrong – idea of what the song meant.) 🙂
AmyIt sounds like you are not only having a wonderful time enjoying your tio abuelo and your grandmother, but you are learning so much about your culture through them. One day they will not be around, but their memories and all you have learned from them will. What wonderful stories you will have for your own kids. Enjoy them!!!!
I wonder what it would taste like…..I love caashews, but have never seen the whole fruit. Let us know if you get to sample one! (the fruit that is….) Love ya!
Dear Marta & Amy -My name is Ibiza Murphy, I am 24 years old and live in West Palm Beach, Fl. I have been a faithful reader of your blog for sometime now, after discovering it on “Mr. Google” after searching for something cuban (of course). Everyday I visit this blog and leave with a smile on my face. I must say I like all the posts, but Amy’s leave me in hysterics… perhaps its because we are both close in age, or because cuban life in our generation is all the more comical… While reading your “Lost in Translation” story I was cracking up… let me tell you about a “Lost in Translation” story of my own that is very similar to yours in terms of “cas-co”….! One day in the car with my abuelos, i asked (mima and pipo) where are we going? my abuelo’s response is, “vamos a casco, a comprar unas cosas que necesitamos.” casco? what store is that? “casco niña, vamos a casco”. well, i had no idea what store casco was, so whatever, i just went for the ride… upon our arrival to our destination, i realized that casco was not a new store i didnt know about, it was a very familiar store i had visited before… casco was COSTCO (the wholesale store). Of course, it made total sense now! COSTCO would naturally be “casco” in cubonics! Keep writing and posting, because i am sure you have fans everywhere! i think you might have inspired me to start my own blog!
ciao!
Ibiza,I’m touched to hear that I leave you in hysterics. That was a great story about “Casco.” It sounds like you would have plenty of material for a blog of your own! Go for it! (and thank you for being such a dedicated reader)
Amy
That is so great Ibiza!!! I think that as a Cuban or a Cuban America we can all understand the reason for these lost in translation words.Here’s a story from my life. In the back of my mom’s house in Hialeah, they built a new store. My mom called me very excitedly to say that she couldn’t wait for the “Golgreen” store to open. I asked her, what store? she said “The Golgreen store, in back of my house.” That same week, while at my mom’s, I happen to look out her window and saw that what she was trying to say was Walgreens, not Golgreen. I then asked her why she would sound the “W” like a “G” and she said, “When I was taking English classes many years ago, the teacher told me that the sound of the “W” was go..go..go. So that’s why the store is called Golgreens. I thought this was so cute. Than you Amy for reminding us of all these special moments. Keep up the good work.
In the end, since the four years that have passed, did you ever understand the link between the fruit and the eh, ‘closeness’ or “tight”-ness??????I cannot mention it.
It is a very old ‘danson’ from the classics, very civilized and all with their embedded messages.
Translation sure as a hell is a very difficult thing to do. It’s hectic and tough sometimes as you need complete command in both languages which you are using. So I guess using professionals for this stuff is better. Great stuff to read.