The Birth of a Boy

Tia Rosa was only twelve when she became the substitute mother of my dad. According to her, the events that lead to that point were foreseeable. The relationship between my grandparents was rocky from the start. They were mistaken if they thought that having a baby would bring them together. They realized this fallacy way before his actual birth. Their final separation was punctuated by my dad's birth; who they had a hard time developing any semblance of a relationship. Migration did not help matters or maybe movement was only a byproduct of people falling away of each other's reluctance for forgiveness, but in the end they tried.
My grandparents were both from the valley of Otoro (Jurla). Their meeting was not at a church or on a warm summer day, but at a bar in town despised for its ill repute. My grandmother worked at the bar and fondly remembered by many old timers in town who frequented the place. Juan Turcios (mentioned before) was one of them, but an example of a life turned around from addiction. He had turned to God years before my meeting him and spoke of those times regretfully. He had metioned how my grandmother was liked by many in his circle back then because pretty young women working in bars were uncommon and despised by the mostly Catholic community. She was brave to be seen there and worse to work there. You can see this culture wherever you go in Honduras. Hand picked pretty young women usually front banks, restaurants, maquiladoras, bars or superstores. It is common knowledge that older woman are discriminated. It becomes really difficult for them to find a job in tourism, garment and retail industries which churn the Honduran economy. I know that we can relate with some of this in the US, but there is no apologizing or hiding it here -its in your face (non sequitor).

My grandfather was a notorious skirt chaser. He was not known for being a hard worker but someone always after quick money. Daughters were warned to stay away from him - he only meant trouble. Somehow my grandmother did not get the memo and fell for him. Nobody approved their engagement and in an attempt to prove the town wrong a three-day marriage fest was organized. This is the first thing people remembered when they recalled my grandparents. A three day marriage party never seen in town before nor later.
"A celebration of drunkeness, loud music, and lots of food," said Tia Rosa.
"They were trying to prove something, which did not work because the relationship only lasted for six months," she continued.
My grandparents brief marriage stint was marked by many threats of separation. He complained that she could not cook or keep a house clean and she complained that he never brought money home to buy food. One day he asked her to pick up all her belongings and dragged her to her family's home. My great grandmother met them at her home where he said "here is your daughter, I have no use of her!" My dad was born after their separation.
Many witnessed this fiasco and it was not difficult for my grandmother to obtain a divorce - an uncommon separation in those days (out of an average of 20 annual marriages only 2 divorced in those times according to a local historian). Both of them knew that a baby was on its way and probably feared its coming more and more. My dad was born in a small adobe house (next to where I stayed during my initial visit to Otoro). Tia Rosa said that my grandfather never came around during my dad's childhood and that my grandmother had a habit of picking jobs that took her out of town leaving my dad in her care.
"At least she tried," Tia said. "He only came once when your dad was thought dead, his recovery was a miracle. After that he disappeared."

Throughtout the years that followed. My father did small errands for his dad, saw his mom once in a while and by the time he was sixteen took to the road. He came back to Otoro once in a while and slowly distanced himself away. I cannot blame him, the place probably only brought bad memories. My Tia Rosa always thought of him and once in a while people would tell of unexpected encounters. One day Otoro was proud for my dad. A picture appeared in national news. The first page of a newspaper showed him rescuing a nurse during the 1969 soccer war between Honduras and El Salvador.
We visited my grandad once and he came to see us in Choloma once. I only remember seeing my grandmother once when she was visiting from Australia. She lives there now and there is little communication with her. Tia Rosa said that my grandad felt guilty for all that happened. He changed and became a hardworking landowner. According to Tia he came often to sip coffee with her. In the end he did not have a real family but took care of a forgotten boy like his son.