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Jun. 9th, 2006 10:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charliesmumI was rather sad when I opened my email and it says '0 messages'. Then I remembered I hadn't really posted anything today.
I don't have anything to say, but I thought I'd tell this story.
My college roomate was from Curaco, one of the Netherland Antilles islands in the Carribbean. She always got asked three questions when people met her. First question was "Where are you from?" The second question was "Where is that?" and the third question was "Why are you in New Jersey?"
She was, and is a beautiful woman, her mother was Colombian and her father was Arabic, and she was tall and nicely proportined and had beautiful dark hair that she would spend hours on every night, but that's another story. When I first saw her I thought she looked like some exotic island princess. She was one of those girls who never knew how beautiful she really was.
Anyway, we had this friend called Rob who had the best sense of humor, and he would always tease her about being from a small island, and would joke about how they hunted boar with their 'boar spears' and lived in mud huts and that sort of thing. She took it in stride and teased him right back. Now I grew up in Cherry Hill, which is upper middle class, and Rob was from a nearby town, so he would tease me as well.
One day he told his roommate the story of how my roommate came to America.
My father, according to Rob, was a very wealthy man, and was vacationing on on Zahira's (my roommate's) island when he fell into a swamp (or quicksand or something) and her father, the leader of the primitive tribe, saved him. In gratitude for saving his life, my father asked what the Chief would like in return, and he requested that my father take his daughter to the States to be educated.
The funniest thing about all this was the roommate actually belived him, and we had to convince him it wasn't true. Anyone looking at or listening to Zahira for any length of time should have been able to gather this was a joke, especially since she spoke English, Dutch and Spanish fluently, and was probably the most elegant person I knew.
Not quite sure what made me think of this story, but I did, and felt like sharing.
Zahira is living in Curaco still, happily married and childless. I'm not sure where Rob went. He is one of the people I still miss and keep hoping someday I'll bump into him.
I don't have anything to say, but I thought I'd tell this story.
My college roomate was from Curaco, one of the Netherland Antilles islands in the Carribbean. She always got asked three questions when people met her. First question was "Where are you from?" The second question was "Where is that?" and the third question was "Why are you in New Jersey?"
She was, and is a beautiful woman, her mother was Colombian and her father was Arabic, and she was tall and nicely proportined and had beautiful dark hair that she would spend hours on every night, but that's another story. When I first saw her I thought she looked like some exotic island princess. She was one of those girls who never knew how beautiful she really was.
Anyway, we had this friend called Rob who had the best sense of humor, and he would always tease her about being from a small island, and would joke about how they hunted boar with their 'boar spears' and lived in mud huts and that sort of thing. She took it in stride and teased him right back. Now I grew up in Cherry Hill, which is upper middle class, and Rob was from a nearby town, so he would tease me as well.
One day he told his roommate the story of how my roommate came to America.
My father, according to Rob, was a very wealthy man, and was vacationing on on Zahira's (my roommate's) island when he fell into a swamp (or quicksand or something) and her father, the leader of the primitive tribe, saved him. In gratitude for saving his life, my father asked what the Chief would like in return, and he requested that my father take his daughter to the States to be educated.
The funniest thing about all this was the roommate actually belived him, and we had to convince him it wasn't true. Anyone looking at or listening to Zahira for any length of time should have been able to gather this was a joke, especially since she spoke English, Dutch and Spanish fluently, and was probably the most elegant person I knew.
Not quite sure what made me think of this story, but I did, and felt like sharing.
Zahira is living in Curaco still, happily married and childless. I'm not sure where Rob went. He is one of the people I still miss and keep hoping someday I'll bump into him.
