I came across an old photo of two (of 4) of my dad’s aunt’s standing on the stoop outside their house. It triggered memories of some of the coolest women in my family.
The Witches
My grandfather, father, and three of the 4 sisters came from Cuba in the 50s/early 60s. The fourth one stayed behind in Cuba but was able to come to the US every other year for a six month stretch after winning the travel lotto in Cuba. We were always trying to get her to stay in the US, but she didn’t want to leave her family behind.
The sisters were:
- Magdalena, who we called Nena,
- Josefina who we called Fefa,
- Lolita, though I’m not sure that was her full name. We called her La Niña, and,
- Berta. She was quite the character; affectionately known as the Bruja.
Nena and La Niña were both kind, gentle women. They were Earthly women, in tune with our connection to the universe. Fefa and Berta were more of a gruff, mad at the world, no-tolerance-for-your-bullshit, pious-but-vulgar, kind of women.
Fefa, Nena and Berta lived in this great early-Florida house in one of Miami’s earliest neighborhoods. Built in 1926, it was a Spanish stucco Florida home with a closed in portico that had those great jalousie windows. It had a huge entryway/foyer/grand room who boasted dark wooden beams and gorgeous, dark, natural hardwood floors. The doors inside the house had skeleton key locks.
The Lair
When I was a kid, my parents would go to their house for a visit. Sometimes I LOVED going, sometimes I hated it.
The inside of the house could best be described as “Catholic Vampire” chic. Everything was dark wood: the floor, the beams on the ceiling, the furniture…scarlet red velvet and royal tones everywhere.
There was also lots and lots and lots of religious stuff in the house. I’m not talking about crosses. I’m talking about paintings of the Mary Magdalene with bloody eyes, wall plaques with the “Mal de ojo” aka the evil eye, pillar candles with pictures of saints on them, sculptures of hands holding eyeballs, rather large statue of St. Lazarus that made me uncomfortable as a kid, statues of Yemaya, Chango, Elegua and other Caribbean saints with offerings of fruit, wrapped in black and purple satin ribbons, rotting at their feet.
The house smelled like unwashed dogs, and sickly sweet, like when you visit a fresh market(an outdoor bodega, not a hipster grocery store). At one point, I KNOW they had chickens, even though they had 4 dogs. What the fuck was going on in this house?
The kitchen was dirty and there was this gross old refrigerator that HAD to be from the 50s. It was dirty and always overstuffed with …stuff. I can’t say with any certainty that it was food. There was a gas stove that was easily as old as the fridge, and it looked like it might have blown up at least twice in its lifetime.
The backyard was pretty gross and awesome at the same time. There was no grass, the sun couldn’t break through the numerous mango and avocado trees. Plus, they had chickens and several dogs. There was also a small efficiency at the back of the house which is where Berta lived. One time, she had invited me into her weird-ass little bohemian bungalow in the backyard. It was dimly lit and smelled of incense and the walls were covered in tapestries and beaded curtains. She gave me the heebie-jeebies, so after telling my parents about this one time I saw inside the den, they instructed me never to go in there again.
The Afterlife
I’m starting to believe after all these years that all four of them were witches. Nena essentially was into “white magic”(Santeria), Fefa was most definitely into “black magic”(Brujeria), La Niña was profoundly Catholic but still mystical and Lord only knows what the fuck Berta was all involved with, but it wasn’t good. She was a grifter, a concubine, and had a raging cocaine problem in her 70s.
All of them are dead and gone now. Nena was killed in a hit and run accident while walking home from her bakery job a few blocks from their house. Fefa died of old age and dementia. Berta threw herself off the top of her apartment building in a cocaine frenzy. Lolita stayed in Cuba until she died. It took almost 6 months before we got word from Cuba.
I remember those days, that part of my life, with fondness and horror. After Fefa died, I finally got to enter the forbidden zone known as their bedrooms. I found that the creaky, holey floor boards were more than just old and rickety.
Under Fefa’s bed was a treasure trove of stuff, including a huge wad of cash wrapped in black satin and tied with a purple bow. There was also a stack of papers and photos, old Cuban money and many weird trinkets, and some jewelry that I still possess. The religious stuff in her room was scary as fuck-creepy statues of maimed and bleeding saints, cups of holy water everywhere.
By contrast, Nena’s room was all about spirituality, more holy water, and offerings to the virgin Mary. It was tidier, cleaner. The floor boards under her bed had more money, not tied up in brujeria shit, but there was a little plastic bottle with holy water and a photo of the Virgin Mary. Never stepped another foot in Berta’s place after that one time.
Now that I am a grown ass woman, I have SO MANY questions, but few left who can answer them. Some would argue that perhaps not knowing is a good thing. In my world, not knowing kills me and it’s something that I struggle with constantly.