Canary Birds, My Brother, & Speaking Spanish

Back in 1961, the Space Race (a time of glorious competition between Russia & the United States to be the first to put a man on the moon) was alive and thriving. This is an important backdrop to my story, because in 1961, my family and I lived in Canary Islands, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. And according to Wikipedia,

"In the 1960s, Gran Canaria was selected as the location for one of the 14 ground stations in the Manned Space Flight Network (MSFN) to support the NASA space program. Maspalomas Station, located in the south of the island, took part in a number of space missions including the Apollo 11 Moon landings and Skylab."

Now Canary Islands, although on the coast of Africa, is under the direct dominion of Spain. It has a rich and extensive history and has been influenced heavily by the many diverse cultures that have invaded or visited its eight entities. These influences include Spain, of course, and Africa, but also France, the Turks, the Romans, the Dutch, and the Arabs.

You might be asking why we were in the Canary Islands? My father was working as a troubleshooter seismologist for a petroleum company drilling in the Sahara Desert. As you can see, we (my mother and I) lived in a safer, less humid environment that my father could commute from every two weeks. And what a life I lived the two years we were there!

But this is what I remember the geography being like of my world from my vantage point:

I played for hours on end in its Atlantic waters and dreamed of becoming a mermaid. Looking back, I must have been the luckiest girl in the world. I had the ocean and my imagination. There were other beaches too, like this next one (but I preferred the rocks!)

Mind you, my mother couldn't swim a lick. I'm amazed thinking that she even allowed me near the water. She must have had the confidence that I was indeed, part mermaid.

I was deliriously happy, but I longed for a sibling and would beg my mother to get one of those "poofy" dresses so she could have a baby. And eventually, she listened to me. The poofy (maternity) dresses did come. Funny how the mind keeps those "Kodak" moments. I can remember my father, while on his two weeks home, adorned himself in one of them and danced around the house to make me giggle. And it did!

When my mother and father found out they were pregnant, they of course, needed a bigger place. We had been in a house in the mountain part of the island, and that, too had been a wonderful adventure for a child. While there, I saw the women of nearby communities walking with their family laundry all bundled up and balanced on top of their heads to wash them. I saw the shepherds passing by with their flock of goats on the craggy hills.

While there, I had been enrolled in a strict English school and hated the teacher. I hated her because she popped my hand with her ruler for biting off the eraser of my pencil. But I did learn the Castilian Spanish from the other children there and that came in very handy for my parents. I had to translate for them while looking and bartering for a new place. They had not yet mastered the language.

We did find a place and it was a heaven for me! The landlord and his wife had no children and no grandchildren, so I became their surrogate grandchild. They were perfect for me. They had cats and dogs and birds...Canary birds! (Just so you know, the islands got their names, not from the birds, but from the dogs that Romans found when they arrived. Evidently they were greeted by large, ferocious dogs and so they called the place Insularia Canaria, meaning, "Island of Dogs.") The Canary Birds are indigenous to the area, though...that is how they got their names.

Pregnancy was not a good time for my mother who, more often than not, had morning sickness. Coca-Cola and crackers was part of her morning routine, as well as spraying the beautiful Canaries we kept for Rosario & Manola, our beloved landlords. Those birds loved the water and sang for us to let us know.

My brother chose to come that October while my father was on his two weeks in the Sahara shift. I was there with another wife of a crew member and was allowed to stay after the delivery. In fact, I was allowed to see him get his first bath. He was beet red and scrawny and didn't like the water at all. I thought the nurse was being too rough with him because he was squalling so loudly. And I couldn't figure out why he had that brown wood-looking thing poking out where his belly button should have been. But I was a happy girl and very protective of him. He was mine.

Life was good for a seven year old in a land where mermaids lived. It is almost sixty years ago, but that child in me is still grateful to have those memories saved in her heart.