Spinnings

Cuentas de Íz - Act I

When we were kids, my sisters and I shared tales of our alter-egos and the hard lives they lived. Jennifer spun stories about her doppleganger, a street child from the inner city, named Wilona. Jessica's stories came from the third person (I think she was afraid to connect too closely ;) and revolved around a twilight-land where carnivorous burros terrorized the grubby urchins of small pueblos in the heart of Mexico.

Following are a few tales of my alter-self, inspired by my sisters, and Daily Survey Questions at the Old Folks Home.

From July 14, 2000, and the following DSQ:

What games from your youth hold fond memories? What was your favorite game to play as a kid?

As a young migrant child, working in the Avondale cabbage fields, games were a cherished pasttime during the ten minutes of daylight we had after work and before bed.

One of our favorites was MÁTARATONES. We would hunt those filthy junkyard rats as long as light permitted, and sometimes by moonlight if Papá was feeling generous. The rats didn’t much care for our corrugated tin home, because it was muy caluroso and there was never anything worth eating inside, so our parents usually considered it a huge waste of time. We used very sharp sticks, pointy rocks, and Raúl even had a slingshot he found. Whichever one of us got to wear the shoes that day would climb the trash heaps and try to flush the rats out while the rest of us stalked below. Many was the rat that we brought down in those days. I was particularly handy with my Palo del Muerte, with which I could kill AND store my trophies, like a very large shiskebob. Mamá used to beat me harshly when I brought my catch home. She was very superstitious and would not cook the rats for our tacos. Raúl, Martín and Llolla used to laugh at me for trying to convince her :)

Sometimes I feel like I miss those days, and even the lunchtime hijinx when we would play flinching contest by swinging long weed stalks at the blisters on each other’s necks. It hurt a lot and I got to be very good at it.

Sometimes I am also sorry for my children, since both of them have shoes, and there are no rubbish heaps for them to hunt in. But we do have many prairie dogs in the nearby fields, and I vow to teach them the way of the hunt.

Yours Truly,
Íz