Grandma´s House

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Going to the gym with Marcelo´s mom was something else. The minute Mama walked through the door she started yelling out names. "Oi Marta! Tudo Bem?" Oi to this lady, Oi to that gent, Oi to absolutley everybody. She grabbed me by the arm and showed me off to everyone. My son´s girlfriend, the Canadian.

Marcelo´s mom is 51 years old. If you met her you wouldn´t believe it. She has clear brown eyes, gorgeous brown skin with barely a wrinkle, and so much energy she never stops moving. She goes to the gym for 3 hours 4 days a week. Cardio to begin, weights with a personal trainer next (super hot personal trainer I might add, whooohoooo!), followed by a dance class, and that´s not all. After dance class more cardio, and finally a class for the abdominals. I burned out long before she did. Watching her operate in her environment gave me a lot of insite into Marcelo´s character. The whole time she´s on the stair master there are people literally hanging from the handles of the machine, looking up at her and listening to her talk her beautiful face off. She´s got them all laughing hysterically the whole time. Everywhere she goes people want to talk and laugh with her. This woman is a battery, a lightbulb and a magnet.

The day before yesterday, while Marcelo was in the city centre, Marcelo´s mom approached me and told me she wanted me to come with her to her mother´s house. The first stop we made was to pick up her sister Lourdes. Lourdes is one of Mama´s 19 siblings. How´s that for a big family huh? 20 crianças. Whew. Lourdes´ house is very beautiful. Like everyone´s home here, it is surrounded by a wall. The streets feel strange because everyone lives behind a wall where they are sheilded from the dangers, the dirt, the thieves, the garbage and the absolute mess that the government has made of this country. People create their own personal Edens inside of brick and cement. The inside of Lourdes´ house is dark from the wood that makes up the walls. Dark maroon-brown wood from the Brazilian rainforest. The house isn´t square, it has an odd shape that I´m not sure how to describe. Like all Brazilian homes, there is always someone inside, maybe sitting and having coffee, maybe cooking something. Lourdes cares for her husband who has lost his mind from drinking. He doesn´t talk, he only groans and stares with a blank expression as he´s aided out of one chair and into another. He was aided slowely to the back seat of the car and we were off. Mama, Lourdes and her husband, and lil ol me.

When we arrived at Grandma´s house we were greeted with smiles, hugs and laughter as we entered the gates. I was introduced to some of Mama´s other sisters on the way into the house which was full of beautiful brown skinned ladies. Sitting very still at the head of the table was a tiny little grey haired lady. This is my mom, Mama said in Portuguese, she has 91 years (in portuguese we don´t say that someone IS 91, we say that someone HAS 91 years, makes sense if you think about it doesn´t it?). Before I could do or say anything else I heard the sound of a womans voice bellowing from behind me. I turned and came face to face (well almost) with a little elderly woman about 5 foot nothing with short curly hair, eyes that didn´t quite line up right, and a gigantic smile that was made up of teeth divided down the middle by a little gap. She exclaimed, Ohhh Jennifer! Laughed extremely loud, wrapped her arms around my waist and picked me right up off the ground! I laughed so hard from the shock that I nearly fell over (once she put me back down on the ground that is). Her name is Zelia, and I´m telling you, she´s crazy and one of the most beautiful people I have ever met in my life. Marcelo likes her the best out of all his aunties. She lives on a farm a couple of hours out of town, but travels to the city a few times a month to care for her mother and visit with her family. She, like Marcelo´s mom and all her other siblings, loves to eat. She cooks all the while she´s at her mothers house. Mama told me that all they do when they get together is eat. Beans, macaxera, fried chicken, grilled beef, and other delicious dishes that belong to the North East. There is always an abundance of fruit, nuts, and desserts sitting on the table. Something I didn´t know was that cashews come from a fruit that the people here eat. What we refer to as the cashew is what is called a castanha (kas-tan-yah). The red fruit that the castanha is attached to the top of is the caju. Brazilians make a desert out of the caju fruit that is sticky with honey and chewy I can´t describe how delicious it is. Another lovely desert is a thick sticky paste made of banana and molasses. The table is the centre of the household at Grandma´s house. It´s surrounded by laughter, chatter and covered with food, coffee and coconut water. The visit consisted of eating, laughing and peeling shells from castanhas. Zelia brought out a big tray of castanhas that she had roasted, looked at me and exclaimed, Jennifer! Trabalha! (Jennifer! You work!) Everyone, including me, burst out laughing.

The whole time I sat at her table, Marcelo´s little grandma stared at me silently. I looked her way a few times and smiled knowing that she was giving me the once over. The thing about old people is that they know so much. They aren´t easily fooled by smooth talk so it´s best to just save your fancy words for the young and easily impressed. Mama told me that Grandma was looking at me because I´m so beautiful. Sure. That´s what it was. In a little tiny voice she spoke a few words to me. Mama said in Portuguese, Oh mom, Jennifer doesn´t understand because she doesn´t speak portuguese. She´s from Canada mom. Mama then turned to me and said that grandma wanted to know what my religion was. Hahahaha! Typical old latin grandma. First things first, are you a catholic? Mama assured her I was. Yup, I feel a few hail Mary´s coming on right about now.

When we left, Zelia filled bags with fruit and castanhas, pulled chicken breast out of the freezer, and insisted that her sisters take it all home. She told me to come back the next day for Portuguese lessons and have lunch. Return I did with Marcelo the very next day...and what a day it was....

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