Esther's Story, Part 2

Here are more translated memories from my grandmother, now age 96, picking up where we left off:

These are distant memories that are conserved in my mind, although many can't believe it. I was baptized at age six months at the Church of the Ascension in Jovellanos by the priest, Pedro Pablo Gratton. My parents were there, and my uncle Jose Martinez, married to my Aunt Lucila; also, my Aunt Ofelia. The driver who took us to Jovellanos was Rafael Rodriguez, who everyone knew as Nené. After some years had passed, Nené told me about the day of my baptism. In later years, Nené worked for the administrator Eligio Suarez, as a substitute driver for Cejas. I can still imagine Cejas, skinny, with black hair. It was an open air car from 1920. The main office of Soledad [referred to as El Central Soledad] was American property; it belonged to the Compañia Azucarena Atlantica del Golf (a sugar mill). All the employees were paid in dollars.

Esther Quintero Jimenez,
 the author of these stories

The house given to my father was, upon entering the sugar mill through a wide entryway, located on the right. There were four little houses; the fronts of two little chalets were seen when going to the sugar mill, and two wooden houses, one smaller than the other in front of ours, but also beside it, on another little path. We lived in one of the little chalets, with a long, wood porch. There was a door and a railing at four or five steps that led to a little stone path. There were gardens beside the houses. We were separated by beautiful gardens from the road that led to the entrance of the sugar mill, and in their plants and flowers was a statue of a man, I never knew whom.

To the right of our house, coming down from the porch, was a bent coconut tree. Florinda, a very light-skinned mulatta who worked in our home, would take us down the stairs every afternoon, and I remember perfectly how we would shout, "Mama, we're going to the bent coconut tree!" For us, it was a big trip.

In back of the little houses was a large cement area of water pipes that were used during the hours of operation of the sugar mill. It was huge, all cement, and surrounded by tall walls. It was square, and on the cement floor, there were tall blocks, each one with four or five large pipes that turned very fast, putting out warm mist. That water would go all the way to the yard of the little chalets, but it was a small amount and caused no harm. When the period of work at the mill ended for short times, everything was dry, and children would go to that area to play.

All my life I have remembered that at only age four, I dreamed that a barrel was in the yard of my house. In my dream, I saw it full of water, and the little heads of my sisters, Cleofé and Olga, with their bows in their hair, floating in that water.

Little Cleofé and Olga with their mother.
Notice their hair bows!

There were two other small, short houses, which were the first ones on the right, as one entered the way to the mill. I remember that in the smaller one lived two little girls, like us. One was named Wilda, and the other Sobeida la Roque. I don't remember their parents or anything else about them, but I still remember them as if I could see them. In the other house lived a couple with a daughter named Emelina Zubirats; she had black, straight hair and bangs. Cleofé remembered more about those people, and told me that Emelina's mother would take them for walks. One day it started to rain and the mother said, "Cleofé, walk faster," and Cleofé's feet hurt terribly from walking so fast.

Next time, we will hear about the baptism and birth of other Quintero siblings. It is my goal to translate each page that my grandmother typed, but it is slow going. Cuban Spanish is full of colloquialisms and expressions that can be difficult to translate, so it takes time. 

Esther's Story, Part 1

The following is from the memoirs of my grandmother, Esther Quintero Jimenez. She has passed along her love of family history to me, and has set an example of the importance of taking time to preserve memories for posterity. I will make every effort to properly translate from Spanish. The stories are extensive and will be posted in parts as I can get to them.

I was born in Jovellanos, province of Matanzas, Cuba, on November 28, 1919, at four in the afternoon. My parents were Manuel Quintero Rodriguez and Maria de los Angeles Plata Roldan; everyone knew her as "Chachita." My father was overseer of the farm "El Toro," and he had an offer to take a position as "second boss" of "Soledad," 7km from Jovellanos.

My aunt and uncle, Dr. Adriano Recio Fors and Otilia Plata, had had a daughter on July 31, their firstborn, named Yolanda. My parents planned to go see the new niece, even though my mother's pregnancy was advanced. The distance was very short but the road was very bad. Cleofe [my grandmother's sister] was two, and Olga [another sister] would turn one on December 2, and they went along with my parents. Soon after arriving, my mother says to my Aunt Martina that she had a small pain in her abdomen; my aunt prepared a remedy and she felt better. My mother didn't expect me until the end of December.

Manuel Quintero Rodriguez (Papo)
(1882-1963)

According to what my aunt told me years later, that day there was much conversation, and my mother's heavy pains continued. My Uncle Recio was a pharmacist at the Pharmacy of Jose Augustin Fernandez, which was at the corner of Marti and Enrique Junco, near his house. When my father went to buy a medicine for her stomach, my uncle preferred to go see my mother; he wanted to examine her. When he came out of the room, he told everyone, "The baby is going to arrive!" and he ran to the pharmacy for first aid, during which time Martina heated water and then help Recio with my birth. Finally, the cry of another girl was heard. Martina told me that she bathed me; then Otilia and my father ("Papo") came in to see me.

Maria de los Angeles Plata Roldan (Mama)
(1889-1984)

My father had to return to El Toro, and that week he returned to Jovellanos to get "Mama" and his three girls. When I was four months old, they sent my father to Soledad, where he began his position as co-overseer. The main overseer of the fields was Ramon Yera. At that time, there was the position of lower administrator, who was Fernando Andreu. When I was three, Papo would take me to his boss's house (Yera); I vaguely remember a family named Valcarcel, Paco and his wife, Adela. I don't recall what was Paco's job, but I saw him wearing leggings and horse-riding pants. Adela would hold me. They had four or five boys; I'm not sure. The youngest was named Esteban and they called him Estevita; he was blond and his hair made him look "pretty." Another son's name was Adel, from his mother's name, Adela. That was around 1922-23.


Be on the lookout for Esther's Story, Part 2!