Yolexsy, Yamilé, Yurkis, Yailenne, Yoandy: Taken from the film credits to “Habana Blues” (Cuba: 2005).
Yexnis: Found in one of the two daily national newspapers on January 17, 2012; died in fallen building in Habana Centro.
Yamila: The name of a seamstress in Colón from whose cousin, Liuva, I bought a handmade blouse in Varadero. I also bought a set of wooden handmade dominos from Liuva, which has become very popular at the Seminary---turns out nobody had one! My apartment has become dominos party central.
More Cubanisms
¡Le importa tres pepinos! Literally: He cares three cucumbers’ worth. What it means: He couldn’t care less.
Pero, ¡qué barbaridad! Literally: But what a barbarity! What it means: Unbelievable! What an atrocity!
Another general observation I’ve made about Cubans:
Cubans are very affectionate, and they are not shy about showing it. They use their arms and hands and nearly every moving part of their bodies to openly, repeatedly, unabashedly, and enthusiastically express affection for one another.
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| Cuban cats like to snuggle too (Semi with a passed-out Alice). |
They tend to just as easily and openly and physically express anger and surprise and most other human emotions. But I am most moved and touched, all puns intended, by the constant physical displays of affection.
This is quite the opposite of what Americans call “public displays of affection,” or PDA. In Cuba, it is commonly accepted for boys and girls, as well as men and women of all ages, to embrace and kiss one another, always in greeting but also as often as they feel compelled to express their affection for one another, which is often.
A typical conversation between friends or especially between family members is always accompanied by touching an arm, patting a back, grabbing a hand, or tousling hair--or another kiss or hug. Emphasis is made by physical proximity and touch.
As a classroom teacher or adjunct professor of foreign languages in the United States, I have often had to be on my guard because of this natural Cuban tendency to want to touch my students. This is yet another example of my “normalization process” while living in Cuba: coming to understand that I am no different from any other Cuban, and it is probably in my blood.
I confess that I have yet to actually observe how Cuban teachers and professors physically express themselves in their classrooms. On the other hand, all of the “classes” I’ve observed here thus far have been lectures and conferences, which do not lend themselves to the kind of student-instructor interaction of my classrooms.
A few years ago, however, I decided to announce a sort of disclaimer at the beginning of my introductory and intermediate Spanish courses at St. Joseph’s University in Philadelphia.
I told my students that I had this habit of pulling on the ponytails of the women soccer players and of rubbing the shaven heads of the male lacrosse players, or that I might suddenly grab and throw either a piece of chalk or a piece of candy at one of them, depending on whether their comment had been annoyingly amusing (chalk) or surprisingly excellent (candy). And that when this happened, they should take it as a cultural lesson on the side: this is how Cubans are! So there! Take it, or switch to another section taught by a different professor!
If I go back to teaching upon my return to the United States, I plan to include the physical display of affection as part of the cultural component on the course syllabus, right alongside music and dance.
The other night, I was in a minivan filled with students and professors from the seminary traveling to Havana for a conference. My first-trimester students Marielys and her husband, Jesús, sat in the bench in front of me. Today is their 15th wedding anniversary, and they are childless and nearly desperate to have a baby.
The married couple leaned their heads together, then wrapped arms and shoulders, and gently slumbered throughout much of the ride. It seemed so natural, and yet it made me wonder whether their U.S. counterparts would have acted similarly.
With love from Cuba,
Elisa
