I woke up late today. Being Good Friday, I did not have to go to school.
Everyone is involved in the preparation of the traditional Ecuadorian Easter meal of ‘Fanesa‘ (Lenten chowder) for our Good Friday feast. Mom started by soaking the ‘bacalao‘ (Salt Cod) late yesterday and the house now has a strong fishy smell. I did not want any part of the preparations.
This soup is made with squash, Lima beans, fava beans, green beans, anyway 7 beans galore! If that wasn’t enough, mom also adds cabbage, milk, heavy cream, cream cheese, and then even more cheese. Oh I forgot – cheese empanada as a side dish!
Ugh! I’m not a fan of this dish!
My sisters and neighbors help my mother in the preparation of this feast. This is a day long event and I am not crazy for this ritual nor for the smell. Just thinking about this has me feeling overstuffed & out of place. Food to me is just to fill my stomach, nothing to spend so much time, effort & rituals over.
So I sneak out and go for a bike ride.
“Don’t go too far!” mom yells out. “I need you back in time for the feast!”
I ride off to check out the other side of the “hill.” All my friends talk about going to the “hill” on our bikes, but no one dares! They say that on the other side lies the Arthur Kill – the deadliest waterway in Jersey.
It is said that nothing lives in these waters. Nothing can! It is the filthiest body of water in Jersey. So bad that if a sailor falls off a tanker, they just leave him there. He is better off! since the acid in the water will eat you alive and the oil slick will choke you to death before they can even get to you.
Anyway, that is what they say – but I don’t believe them.
None of my friends are around and we’ve been talking about it for so long, that I decide to go by myself. The stories must be exaggerated! it can’t be that bad.
I ride off thru the abandoned, desolate grounds for about 1 mile and what I found on the other side was worse then even the roumors said. This area in loaded with homeless people; bon fires out of 50-gallon drums just to stay warm; a smell of dead fish; and plenty of black grime on the shores of the river.
I ride down the back edge of the hill and ride alongside the baroness of the riverfront. Faces that seemed like they haven’t eaten in a long while, stare back at me as if to say “What are you doing here kid?”
I stopped in front of this old man. He had his hand stretched out. I didn’t even dare climb off my bike & dragged myself over to him. I put in his hands the snack & water that I had brought with me.
“Happy Easter kid! May God bless you.” he said.
I rode back to my house, no longer complaining and ready to partake of the feast. Even if I didn’t like the smell of it, I feel fortunate to have a home, a family & a safe haven where I can grow up a normal life.
Sitting there in the back of the bus, he reaches into the breast pocket of his coat and pulls out a magazine. He hands me the January 1979, 25th Anniversary Edition of Playboy magazine, and says “this is a special issue.” 