(First in Spanish, then followed by English)
Hijos Naturales
En America
Latina un 60% de los nacimientos se dan fuera del matrimonio. En Estados Unidos
y Europa, es un 40%, y en Asia, tan solo un 5%.
De estos
hay en todas las generaciones de mi familia.
Me recuerda
esto a la película J.F.K.: Caso Abierto, cuando el personage que protagoniza
Kevin Costner dice: “ Esto es Luisiana. ¿Cómo sabes siquiera quién es tu papá?
Porque te lo cuenta tu madre. Así.”
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| Andres Arce Fernandez |
| Zenon "Chinonga" Arce |
| Roberto Arce Vargas |
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| Herminia Arce de Garrido |
| Nora Garrido (adopted by Herminia Arce) |
| Oscar Garrido (adopted by Herminia Arce) |
Mi bisabuela Cecilia Arce vivía en Naranjo de Alajuela, a principios del siglo diez y nueve. Tenía tres hijos: Zenón, Roberto y mi abuelo Andrés, junto con dos hijas de nombre Herminia y Ramona. Sabemos que el padre de nuestro abuelo se llamó Nicomedes Bogarín, y el padre de Roberto era algún sujeto de apellido Vargas. También estoy seguro de que había otro hombre, el padre de Ramona (y aún me falta alguna foto de Ramona). Todos eran blancos excepto ella, que junto a su madre eran morenas. Costa Rica tenía pocos indigenas cuando fue descubierta por Colón en su cuarto viaje el 25 de Septiembre de 1502. Pero algo teníamos. Para mi nacimiento en 1960, la población costarricense era blanca con algunos mestizos (indigena + español) y los negros del caribe, que originaron los mulatos (negro + español). Recuerdo haber visto a un negro por primera vez en Miami en 1965. Mi hermano Carlos le preguntó a mi madre si se había quemado. Los mestizos de piel oscura era poco vistos también durante mi infancia costarricense, pero en las fotos de la familia se cuelan algunos.
Mi abuela,
Felicia González Herrera, hija única y natural, se apellida igual que su madre,
Domitila “Tila” González Herrera, mi bisabuela. Su padre era Jorge Salas, el
hijo de los vecinos. Jorge se casó luego y tuvo su camada, muchos de los cuales
se hicieron cercanos a mi abuela, su media hermana. Luego de divorciarse, Jorge
se juntó con una mujer llamada Jila, y tuvo más hijos con ella. Los hijos de su
primer esposa llevaron obviamente el apellido de su padre, y los hijos de Jila,
aún cuando nunca estuvieron casados, fueron aceptados por Jorge como suyos. Más
tarde, Jorge reconoció a mi abuela también, y le dejó una pequeña herencia.
Ella nos llevaba a visitarlos a él y a Jila a Sarchí. Los encuentros siempre
eran felices.
Hay cierta
historia de cuando Tila, madre de mi abuela Felicia, quedó embarazadad. No era
una chiquilla, tenía veinticinco años. La familia González Herrera había sido
vecina de los Salas, en Rio Segundo, seguranmente desde del siglo
19. Ambas eran familias de agricultores. Sé que mi bisabuelo Jorge era un poco
más joven que Tila, y un hombre apuesto. Aún cuando tenía 80 era un hombre alto
y elegante. Por alguna razón Tila no estaba casada. La mayoría de mujeres de
esa época se casaban a los quince años. Tal vez resolvió que envejecería sin
hijos. Su hermano Juan tampoco se casó. Yo no creo que éste haya sido un
embarazo accidental. El papá de Tila todavía estaba vivo cuando ocurrió el
bendito evento, pero seguramente enfermo o al borde de una botella de guaro. Se
hablaba de licor y apuestas (como en “Por qué no jugamos naipe”).
Así que el
salvar el honor recayó en su hemano Juan. Le habían dicho que Jorge Salas
estaba en una cantina tomándose un trago. Juan no era un hombre violento, era
sencible y tranquilo, amaba la Iglesia y a la Virgen María, devoto Católico
Romano, hasta con un letrero en su puerta que recuerdo rezaba: En esta casa se
siguen las enseñanzas de la Santa Iglesia Catolicoromana y honramos a Su
Santidad el Papa. La literatura protestante no es bienvenida en este hogar.”
Pero un hombre debía ser un hombre y defender a su hermana. Tal vez Lino Salas,
padre de Jorge, y Pedro González ya habían hablado de “hacer lo correcto”, pero
me da la impresión de que Jorge y Tila no tenían deseo alguno de casarse. Sin
embargo, hay reputaciones que mantener. Mi abuela me contaba que a veces la
trataban mal por su condición de hija natural, sin un papá. A algunos le guardo
un tremendo rencor hasta el dia en que murieron y quizás hasta su propia
muerte. Felicia me decía “pueblo pequeño, infierno grande.”
| Juan Gonzalez Herrera |
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| Herminia Arce with Luis Lobo |
Otra hija natural nació también en el seno de una de mis tias maternas. Herminia tampoco era una chiquilla cuando encintó a sus veintiocho años. Tal vez vio también los dias pasar y el prospecto envejecer sin hijos no era alentador. Mi abuelo Andrés también habló con Abel Gutierrez, para “hacer lo correcto”. Estoy seguro que Herminia Arce y Luis Gutierrez se hubiesen casado de haberlo así querido. Pero no por razones por
las que una persona decide tener un hijo las hay a montón y están también los
embarazos no deseados, pero he hecho paz con la idea de que los hijos naturales
en mi familia no fueron un accidente, sino un asunto que resultó del deseo de
querer vivir un futuro en compañía.
Luis Lobo
“Natural Children”
Translated from Spanish “Hijos Naturales”, the opposite
of Legitimate Children, or “Hijos Legitimos”.
Hijos Naturales, natural
children, are those born out of wedlock.
They carry the last name of their mother, as they are not claimed by the
legal contract of marriage between the mother and the father. In antiquity they
were also known as bastard children.
In Latin America 66% of children
are born out of wedlock, in the US and Europe it is about 40%, and Asia at 5%.
We have these throughout the
generations of my family.
I am reminded of the movie “JFK”,
when the character played by Kevin Costner, when pressed about the verification
of data: " This is Louisiana. How do you even know who your daddy
was? Because your momma told you, that's how."
My great-grandmother Cecilia Arce lived
in Naranjo, in the province of Alajuela, Costa Rica at the turn of the 20th
century . She had three sons named Zenon,
Roberto and my own grandfather Andres, along with two daughters named Herminia
and Ramona. We know the father of my own grandfather was named Nicomedes
Bogarin, and the father of Roberto was a gentleman named Vargas. I am also quite sure there was another man,
the father of Ramona. Attached you will
see pictures of all except Ramona (I am currently missing a picture of
Ramona). All are light skinned except her,
who along with her own mother was dark skinned.
Costa Rica had few indigenous peoples upon its discovery by Christopher
Columbus on September 25 of 1502, during his fourth voyage. But we had some. The population of Costa Rica
at the time of my birth in 1960 was mostly white, with some elements of mestizo
(indigenous + Spanish white), and blacks on the Caribbean coast and therefore a
share of mulattos (black mixed with Spanish white). I recall seeing a black man
for the first time when we landed in Miami in 1965, my brother Carlos asked my
mom if he had burned? Darker skinned
mestizos were also rare in the Costa Rica of my infancy, but those family
pictures have some.
My grandmother Felicia Gonzalez Herrera,
an only and natural child, carries the last names of her mother Domitila “Tila”
Gonzalez Herrera, my great-grandmother. Her father was Jorge Salas, the son of
next-door neighbors. She was his oldest
child, born in 1922. Jorge later married and had a brood, many of which became
close to my grandmother, their half-sister.
Jorge Salas divorced and attached himself to another lady, named Jila, and
had a second brood with her. His first
group of children carried his last name, the second, even through he and Jila
were never married, were “acknowledged” by him as his own and they carried the
Salas last name. Later in life, Jorge
“acknowledged” my grandmother and left her a small inheritance. She would take us to visit him and Jila at
their home in Sarchi and the gatherings were always joyous and happy times.
There is a story of when Tila, the
mother of my grandmother Felicia, came up pregnant. Tila was not wet-behind-the-ears, over 25
years of age at the time. The Gonzalez Herrera family had lived next door to
the Salas in our ancestral little town of Rio Segundo, possibly since the turn
of the 20th century. Both
families were tenant farmers, keeping fields, some owned and some leased in the
nearby hills. I recall my
great-grandfather Jorge was some years younger than Tila, and a good looking
man, even in his 80’s he was tall and elegant, ruddy faced with beautiful white
hair. For whatever reason Tila had never
married and most girls in that era married by the age of 15. Maybe she realized that she would grow old
without a child, her own brother Juan Gonzales also never married. I do not think this was an accidental
pregnancy. Tila’s father Pedro Gonzalez
was still living when the blessed event occurred, but may have been in ill
health or in the grip of a bottle of guaro, there was talk of liquor and
gambling – see my prior story of “why we do not play card games”.
Thus the task of “HONOR” fell on my
great-great uncle Juan. He was made
aware that Jorge Salas was at the local cantina having a drink. Juan was not a violent man, he was kind and
peaceful, he loved the church and the Virgin Mary, a devout Roman Catholic, who
had a sign over his door, which I recall reading in my youth “In this house we
follow the teachings of the Holy Roman Catholic Church and we honor the
sanctity of his Holiness the Pope, protestant literature is not allowed in this
house”. But a man had to be a man and stand up for the honor of his
sister. There may already have been
conversations between Jorge’s father Lino Salas and Pedro Gonzalez about “doing
the right thing” – but I am inclined to believe that Jorge and Tila did not
wish to marry. However, there are appearances
to maintain. My grandmother once told me
that people treated her badly because she was a natural child, without a
Daddy. She harbored ill feelings for
some of these people until their passing and even her own. Felicia told me
“Small Town, Big Hell”.
Juan Gonzalez that afternoon of 1922
took his life in his hands. He was a
hard worker, but slight of build. Jorge
Salas was Adonis incarnate. Juan
approached the cantina and noticed a fallen tree branch, which he picked
up. He entered the cantina, fully
knowing most every person; it was not uncommon for men to “carry” an espadin
(short and narrow sword) or machete as these were farming communities. He
approached Jorge Salas and I am sure there was an exchange of words. Juan was standing and Jorge did not rise from
the table. All eyes were on these men, whom
possibly were even related, and the odds immediately fell against Juan. I can imagine the fear Juan experienced in
that moment; he was younger than his sister, possibly 20 or 21. He called Jorge
Salas out, but his opponent would not rise from the table. There may have been
jeering from the other patrons, for Jorge to annihilate Juan, but I believe
Juan was so well liked that everyone simply held their breath. Juan called out Jorge a second time, and
once again Jorge refused. Juan approached Jorge, raised the tree branch and
struck him across the back and shoulders, turned around and walked out of the
cantina. Jorge simply sat there and took
his beating like a man, and allowed Juan to walk away with his family
honor. These men would see one another
for another 60 years, even after Jorge moved away to Alajuela and then Sarchi,
he would visit my grandmother periodically as her and my grandfather had built
their home next to Tila’s house.
A natural child was born to one of my
aunts, a sister of my mother. Herminia
was also not a spring chicken at 28 when this blessed event occurred. Maybe she also noticed the days passing
quickly and the prospect of growing old without a child disappointing. My own grandfather Andres, a rouge in his
younger years, went to speak to Abel Gutierrez, about doing the right
thing. I am also reasonably sure that
Herminia Arce and Luis Gutierrez would have married had they wished to do so,
but they chose not to.
There are many reasons why people decide
to have children, and I know there are also accidental pregnancies. But I have come to the conclusion that the
natural children in our family were less of an accident and more a by-product
of individuals wishing to share their lives and extending their reach into the
future.



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