When I moved to site, I become immediately aware of two phrases: “Cualquier cosa, con confianza.” Like peanut butter and jelly, they compliment each other and often come as a pair but can just as well stand alone. The phrases are just as much about the content as the delivery “Cualquier coooohsa, con confiaaaaahnza” they say. Like a gentle tug on the penultimate syllable will ring it home and I’ll have no other choice but to accept the weight of the offer.
“Siéntase, come con confiaahnza.” “Hay tortiiiillas come come come. Come con confianza. Hay tortillas si quieres mas, hay tortillas.” These words accompany the start to every meal I share with them. If there was any doubt, Natalie, there are tortillas and if you want one you just better eat one. Eat three. Tortillas, brought to you in the name of trust and good faith.
And then there’s the sister phrase “Cualquier cosa!” (Sister) Clarita squints under the dim light in the kitchen, without glasses, to read each word and confirm that they are in fact correct. She has just reviewed all my notes from K’iche’ class. I shared them in case it would interest her to see what I learned first. Instead she sees it as a task, she thinks I’ve asked her to review them for accuracy. She confirms, yes, this is all correct K’iche’. “Except no, laq is not the word for plato in K’iche’. Laq is bowl. Plato, in K’iche’, is pla’t.” And boy does this cause a ruckus on Calle Principal, the three women in the kitchen expressing with emphasis that laq is this thing, and they present a bowl from the cupboard, “You see this, this is laq.” “Laq” I repeat. “This is not laq (they show me a plate), this is laq” (and they pick up the bowl again). It’s like a K’iche’ episode of Reading Rainbow. I sit and they show me props then I repeat what I hear. Once that’s good and resolved, Clara sits back down: “Cualquier cosa, solo pregúntame, cualquier cosa” she says with all the fuerza.
The next day curiosity reminded me to ask: But what is bowl in Spanish? I don’t recall. I know plate in Spanish, plate in K’iche’, and bowl in K’iche’. But what is bowl in Spanish? I look it up on my SpanishDict! app that works offline while Clara racks her brain to remember. The app says “Taza” or “Sopera” and I read them aloud “Está taza o sopera?” I ask her. But her wheels are spinning: “Laq… laq… what is laq in Spanish?” She looks up at the ceiling, listening to her brain rummage through dusty vocab boxes, and when the search comes up short, with a confident pointer finger in the air she says: “I’ll go find out! Esperese esperese” and leaves the house.
I’m amused. My host sister has left the house in search of a word. The Original Google. After five minutes, I forget that she left and am back in the kitchen doing who knows what. After ten minutes she appears: “I have it! It’s either taza or sopera” (which is what the app said) but I just say: “ohhhh taza or sopera” “muy amable, que amable que usted buscó esta palabra!” And all is right in the world of cutlery. You could say I was bowled over. (I’ve been waiting for the right moment, Pun Gods).
Another time I mentioned to the family that there was a giant spider in my shower. I told them cuz I thought it was funny, being caught naked by a giant spider. But-oh-no- this was a problem of the utmost. “Why didn’t you tell us there was a spider? Because it could jump out and bite you!” And Clara goes upstairs de una vez to seek it out. She’s pulled out the shower curtain and covered every inch. She needs glasses so she is so close to this shower curtain, observing every inch, and I’m the one who should be afraid of the spider?! Here she is calling it’s name. Cualquier Cosa, Natalia, Cualquier Cosa!
But on Tuesday, this last Tuesday, ‘cualquier cosa’ outdid herself.
You see, I wanted some tires. Old llantas with punctures that I could use to make chairs (yes, you read correctly). So I tell my host mom: “DoRo, I’ve got a request. I wanna buy some used tires. Do you think you know how much they cost?” I ask. She says. “Saaaaaber” (a la ‘who knows!’) We’re walking to the mirador on Sunday and pass a tire shop- I say: “ooh I bet they have tires. You think they’d sell them to me?!” And the mighty DoRo approaches the muchacho. In K’iche’ I hear her ask: “Fijese que… I need some llantas. What would they cost me?” I know because I hear the word llantas in the K’iche’ soup. I’m hovering in the background like a gringa with no vested interest. Better for them not to know it’s me who wants them because the prices truly leap. My heart quakes at what I think is the response- 1q. Eeek! One q! Poker face as we walk away then I confirm with my host mom who’s also playin’ it cool: “1q!” we celebrate in hushed giggles as we walk away. We make a plan. We’ll go back and pick them up the next afternoon. 1q, not bad. That’s 14 cents in the USD for a tire. I’ll take it, Vos!
Tuesday rolls around (get it) and DoRo and I have made a plan. We’re gonna go find this muchacho and get us these llantas. But on the way she says: Let’s ask at the mechanic shops we pass along the way just to compare prices. I see her turn on the charm and walk into hombreland in her traje and apron, “Hello Kind sir. What do you think it would cost me to get some used tires?” She must be saying in K’iche’.. I hear them chat for a minute. She looks over at me with wide eyes and puts up a palm “Stay over there, I got this, I got this” Again it’s better to keep me out of business agreements here because the price of tea rises with every passing EstadoUnidense. She walks past me with a young guy in search of tires, her eyes saying: “play it cool Nat, we’re about to win the Showcase” and she begins to pick out the tires and roll them over to me. Tires, in general, are bigger than I remember. Maybe these are all tires for trucks or maybe I just don’t know my tires. I usually don’t carry tires, they carry me. She says “Be careful because he says there is alhambra and it will poke you!” I say “okay!” and I whisper “but how much!” and she responds “esperese esperese” with a touch of “it ain’t over til the ink dries, Chachi.” She says: “Let’s move them out to the street and figure out how to get them home.” When we get to the sidewalk, four dirty wirey tires piled high, she confides: “He’s giving them to us for free. Let me go back and agradecer!” And we start to roll our way out of the place with spiky old tires caked in grease.
She returns. Thanks have been expressed. What’s next? We’ve hit a logistical bump: how to get them home. These tires are half my host mom’s height and I’m wearing dress clothes and she says: “I can only carry one at a time.” I say: “That’s fine! We’ll just leave the extra and come back for The Other” like we’re on Lost “I can manage two. You take one big one and I’ll take these two, and come back again. I take off with the two, passing two young boys looking at the gringa carrying two big tires in dress clothes. I know what DoRo is gonna do: “Hey kids we’re trying to get these tires home, any chance you wanna roll this one down the hill for me pretty please?”
I stop to readjust the weight, the exposed wires snagging my pants and the oil staining my hands and hopefully not my clothes, when I see the two patojos rolling the tire down the hill like they’re in an obstacle course. I chuckle to myself until I see what’s next. I can’t believe my eyes: My host mom is carrying the tire on her head.
I repeat: Host mom. Wire tire. Head.
I bowl over in laughter (two points pun ref!). I have to stop, release the tires, and laugh. I say “How are you doing that?”! and she says matter-of-factly “Natalie I can’t aguanto with my arms but I can carry it on my head.”
The Odd Couple. Just as Thelma and Louise drove off the cliff, we go down a hill lugging tires. I’m cracking up the entire way as I watch the kids roll the fourth tire to our house and DoRo don the ultima on her cabeza. It takes a village and a touch of the neurotic.
We get home and host mom hefts the tire onto the ground.
When they said “cualquier cosa” they meant bowls, spiders, tires, offering to rub my belly with camphor oil… They meant Cualquier Cosa.