02: Tatika

Hi, I'm Miha. Miha means my daughter in Spanish, and this podcast is about my family. Those alive, those long gone, and those still dreaming. Now here's what you need to know about Tateca. She's loud, she loves deeply, and forgives, always. And she is very brave. Tateca is my mother. So here goes. 10 minutes to tell her story. Tateca is one of three children born to Jita, hairdresser, and Titi, journalist. She has an older brother Memu, and a younger sister Melita. Growing up, Tateca and her sister Melita were always together. The two beauties of the neighborhood, young suitors, often came to the house to spend time chatting over Kefekon Nece, with Jita's supervision, of course. They were inseparable and hardly ever argued. But once when they were teenagers, they went out for ice cream. And out of nowhere, Melita decided to slap Tateca, right across the face. They hadn't had an argument or anything before, it was just a feeling she'd had. When it happened, they stood there in silence for a few seconds. And they burst out laughing. To this day, both sisters were there was something in the air. The sun had been shining, life was calm and beautiful. It needed a bit of excitement. "Ura me, que aunque pase mucho tiempo, no olvidaras el momento en que yo te conocí." Now you might have guessed that Tateca has an affinity for music. In fact, Tateca was a tuna. Now a tuna is not a fish in Colombia. It's something entirely different. (speaking in Spanish) (upbeat music) Imagine a woman wearing a pair of high-waisted pants, with a bright red cumberbund, a white ruffled high-collar shirt, and a grand cape covered in ribbons and pins. (singing in Spanish) Latuna is basically a university club. Everyone sings and plays one of the following, a tambourine, a marigaline, guitars, bass, viola, etc. And they go on tour, performing in competitions. Once you're a tuna, you're always a tuna, and you carry that music with you always. (singing in Spanish) When she graduated, Tateca became a secretary in a law office. In this life, she was a musician and a career woman. Now I know what you're thinking. Why would she leave? I've asked her a few times, and the answer always changes. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to live away from home. I wanted independence. The truth is, it was a mix of a lot of things. You see, Tateca, a smart, beautiful young woman, hadn't gotten married yet. And in Colombia back then, if you weren't married, then you couldn't leave your parents' house. And there was something in Tateca that made her feel like she was worth more than that. More than waiting around to find love to start her life. Plus, she'd been fairly unlucky until then, though she'd had many suitors it never worked out, because she was cursed. Someone had put a curse on her to keep her from finding love. She didn't really believe in all that, but her best friend told her that maybe all her bad luck was bad juju, and convinced her to see a brujah. The brujah told her that checking was simple. Take an egg and rub it all over your body. Then put it under your bed and go to sleep for the night. In the morning, take it and break it over the toilet. If you're cursed, the yolk will be black. Then we'll see what we can do. So she went home that night, took an egg from the kitchen and did the ritual. Tateca swears to this day that the yolk was black like the night. She returned the next day and asked for a cure. "That's a pretty bad one you've got," the brujah said. "I believe in ex of yours is placed a curse on you, so you'll never marry your have children." Bay then rose water tonight and prey to levied hen. It'll help, maybe. One time passed and Tateca grew listless. She longed for independence to build her own life with or without a husband. And so, she decided that it was time to take her destiny into her own hands and convinced her boss to recommend her for a visa to go to New York. Maybe this adventure would help her find what she was missing in her life. I often think about what that day was like. The day she said goodbye to her whole family. The day she left to create her new life in America. Tateca wakes up early to make her favorite breakfast at Epasco en Chocolat de Galiente. Tateca wakes up determined. The sadness of leaving won't hit her just yet. Not now. Now she's buzzing with excitement. She's going to New York. She had stress quickly and double checks her suitcases. She looks at herself in the mirror and fixes her hair. She thinks, "The next time I look at myself, I will be in America." She sits down to breakfast and makes small talk with her mother about the weather and flight details. As for Titi, well, he was against this adventure from the start. So he reads the paper, drinks his coffee, and says nothing. Her brother and sister have already left home. Milita married young and now lives in her own house with her husband and kids. Memo too has found someone and has moved in with her. She is the last to leave the nest. As she eats, she thinks happily. It's about time. The whole family comes to see her off at the airport. She's nervous about missing her flight with all the goodbyes, so she hugs everyone quickly and her is off. It is only when she gets to her seat that she starts to tear up. She tries not to cry, but the warm salty tears stream down her cheeks as she looks out over the wing. She sees her home, the beautiful mountainous city of Vaguta. She closes her eyes and sleep comes quickly. When she wakes up, it is dark. She looks out the window and sees the lights of the city. Those impossible eternal lights of New York. She feels hopeful, scared and excited all at once. She lands. She enters the terminal, passes through immigration and finds her suitcase. When she leaves, no one is there to greet her or help her with the life she has packed to carry thousands of miles to bring here. She steps outside in the cold and flags down a taxi and goes to her friends apartment in Jackson Heights. And despite the trains rumbling overhead, she hears Spanish on the street. And all at once she gets this feeling of, "This is home." New York is an impossible city as she would soon find. For those first few days she felt like she could do anything. She was free to be herself. Entire. Now close your eyes and pick your New York. What do you see? Skiescrapers, yellow cabs, loads of people walking down the street on mass, hot dog vendors, Wall Street, Central Park, the Met Museum, Times Square. Most people don't see queens. With its globe and flushing meadow park, people skateboarding or bike riding around it. Queen's boulevard with its malls were kids hang out after school. The bodegas that are open 24/7 for anything you'd ever need. The immigrant communities that keep the city going. This is the Tika's New York. It's the park where she taught me how to ride a bike. The malls where she'd buy Christmas presents from Ano and me. The bodegas were she'd buy lottery tickets. The working class people that were her neighbors, friends and colleagues. This was her America. It's been over 30 years now. The inventor lasted longer than she imagined, but it's been a great ride. Her first job involved sewing labels onto jean jackets. And she was good at her job. So good that her bosses promoted her to work as a manager at the head office on 42nd Street. And she learned English by watching American television. But she kept her culture close to her heart. Never missed a Colombian day parade and made adepas for breakfast every morning without fail. She became a US citizen. The curse lifted, she married and had two children. And she spoke Spanish to them, filling their lives with music. And tragedy struck the city that the kids family asked her if she would come back home. She said, "No, this is my home." I am American.