Papi's Cayo Granma Island

Papi had been known as the greatest fisherman on Cayo Granma island, Cuba after Abuelo died. They said he could read the sea with his eyes closed and point you in the direction of the best places to fish. At the age of five, Papi would take me out to sea to teach the gift of reading the sea as had been done to him by his Papi. Whenever Papi and I found a big haul he would lift me up towards the sky and in a warm embrace, he would reassure me that I would always succeed in anything I set my mind to. Papi and my similarities are few, but his friends would say my skin tone, olive from years under the sun, and love for the sea made me his daughter.
Papi was popular in town. Everyone knew his name. I admired him. Walking hand in hand, papi and
Mami talked about how they were looking to join the rebellion. Samuel’s parents though, like the rest of the towns older generation, was on the huskier side. They didn’t see the need to fight. Their time had passed and they all willingly accepted it. In Cayo Granma island everyone’s skin tone ranged from bleached by the sun to oil like olive oil.
Mami had a paler complexion. She didn’t like the sun and preferred her time inside. She would spend her days with Abuela weaving and knitting new things to sell at the market. Whenever she could catch me, she would put me to work as well learning different family techniques. She became a lot stricter when the economy had begun going downhill again and the government doubled up on security. She warned me to not step outside without her, papi, abuela or tio. It was because of this that I snuck out more. I hid in trees, on Papi’s boat, in neighbor’s yards and sometimes in my secret spots in the house like the closet. Whenever she found me it became an issue of being
Abuela would grab on and sway fast and hard. I usually ended up giggling and falling to the floor. Some days I would sit in our light blue kitchen and watch her make Empanadas, Arroz con pollo, Flan, Congri and some many other flavorful dishes. As soon as she turned her back I would sneak pieces of food until she realized and chased me out. Mami had skillful hands. When she made a dish, it was like it had been coming from the heart. She would always scold me when I came in to help because I lacked skill. Mami would scowl at me as the smoke from my dish would begin to rise. She would try to save it, but it never worked. Eventually, she deemed me a lost cause and let me skip this lesson. My favorite times though were when Tio would stop by. On days he wasn’t looking to fool around he would sit down in the living room near the fireplace and play parts of son using the bongos. In his past time he would teach me and together we would play, sing and