I’m a person who believes a lot in balance and equality regardless of anything else, but during this month there has been a lot of talk about the mother, the stepmother, the sister, the daughter, the grandmother, and the figure of the woman in general. There’s a legend that speaks very well about the image that the mother figure has in Venezuela and that reminds me of the unique magic that lives in the women of my family.
The legend tells the story of a young woman who worked in a restaurant in Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, who once denied a plate of food to her elderly mother and then expelled her from the business.
A woman sitting in the shade on a cobblestone street [Pixabay]
The grieving mother met a man who gave her a coin marked with the cross of Saint Andrew and told her to go back to her daughter to pay for the plate of food; he also warned that her daughter would not accept the change, but she should leave it for her to buy malojo – about which we will read more later on.
When she had done what he had told her, her daughter turned into a half-woman, half-mule creature, so she fled the restaurant. The legend ends by saying that since then the mule woman (la mujer mula) has appeared in churches praying with a white cloak covering her face.
There are many interesting elements in this story. It’s curious that the mother doesn’t appear to be married, as we are never told about her husband or the daughter’s father; perhaps she could have been widowed. In any case, she is an elderly woman with few resources who cannot afford a plate of food.
Artus Wolffort, painting of St. Andrew, early 17th c. [public domain]
Then the mysterious man appears who gives her the coin, and not just any coin, but one with the cross of Saint Andrew, which is strongly related to women: he is the patron of old maids, pregnant women, single lay women, unmarried women, and women who wish to become mothers, among other groups of people.
Finally, there is the malojo (mahl-OH-ho). This is a word used only in Venezuela, and refers to “a variety of corn or a set of these grass plants or cereals that is only used as fodder or pasture for cavalry or the horse itself and that does not reach a seasoning.” This may suggest that the man, whoever he is, knew what would happen to the daughter after the mother followed his instructions.
It obviously is a legend that speaks about ingratitude, respect for the elderly, and even more for the mother herself. In Venezuelan society, it is common for the mother to stay at home with the children while the father goes to work, and there are many traditional and regional songs throughout the country that talk about the mother, sometimes calling her “holy.” The fact that a child does not take care of their father would be shocking, but that they don’t take care of their mother is inadmissible for any Venezuelan.
This dynamic is not unique to Venezuela. This structure of a mother at home and a working father was repeated in my Arab family to some extent. On my mother’s side, my grandmother, aunts, my mother, and several of my cousins were able to take care of the home and still work regardless of what the Arab community said, always supported by my grandfather, who said that before anything a woman must be able to fend for herself.
I don’t have many memories of my grandfather, only the stories that I have heard over time, but I do have many of my grandmother and what she had done. The matriarch has always been there for those of us who have needed her; she has always been a word of encouragement, an advice based on experience, and a humble but highly respected religious person in the Arab community.
My mother goes the same way. Although she’s far from wearing the Muslim veil, she has followed in my grandmother’s footsteps in her own way, and not a day goes by that she doesn’t talk to her, ask her blessing and her opinion on any important aspect of life, just like my three aunts. They are different people, but there is something that the five have in common: their word is kept.
My oldest aunt and my mother are infallible healers; the sister who follows has unstoppable energy; and the youngest of the four sees the deceased. A decree made by any of them comes true, always. These are gifts that come from my grandmother’s maternal line, whose blessings know no limits.
A statue of three woman holding a child [Pixabay]
During a trip to Syria, in the middle of the war, my grandmother wanted to visit a brother whom she had not seen for a long time. Without saying anything, she took a suitcase, called for a taxi, and went straight to his house. When she arrived, her brother received her worried, asking her how was it that she could come inside and didn’t come to any harm. All the entrances to the city were closed, and there were terrorists and police around, but she did not see anything or anyone. She only asked “in the name of God” to arrive safely. The same thing happened when she returned to her house after a few days. She arrived without a scratch.
Woe betide, however, the one who disrespects them, even more so if they defame the matriarch. My grandmother is far from wanting to hurt anyone, but just by seeing someone she realizes the type of person they are, a gift my mother also inherited from her.
She calms pain just by touching; her blessings protect anyone; she always lights a candle for important occasions, to protect herself and others from any danger; but those to whom she turns her back find stones in the way. All of her grandchildren have been instilled with love and respect for our grandmother, some of us are more attached to her than others, but we all do whatever it takes when she needs anything.
Far from being afraid of them or taking care of losing their favor, my grandmother and my mother have taught me that the word is the most powerful tool that a person can use, and for some time now I have begun to honor that lesson more than ever before. I thank them for everything they have instilled in me. While I admire the men in my family, my maternal grandfather who takes care of us even after he passed away, but the women are unstoppable.
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