When she was learning to walk men were learning to
fly, when she was learning to talk, men stopped talking to each other
altogether and started World War I.
With great trepidation
and foreboding I write this about my mom. Yes, she’s gone and I will miss her
and her smile which was rare due to her cantankerous nature; but just because
it wasn’t frequent it was just what made it so special, I will miss having
become the parent and her the child.
La Gran Dama Eloi,
which inspired me to write a book and then make it into a blog; telling her
story, compiling her account of events and her experiences during her very long
life. Mom made it to see her 97th birthday and somehow I had the
feeling it was her last as she blew the 9 and 7 candles on the cake my
partner’s mother baked for her.
![]() |
| My mom (right) and her sister Nina (left) |
My mom traveled often to her birthplace in
Cuba; sometimes even more than twice a year and even before it was legal to do
so prior to the U.S. Government allowing Cuban-Americans permission to visit
relatives.
She had a brother 17 years younger whom she raised and who she
regaled the status of son. There was also the only other surviving Valiente
sibling: my aunt Nina, ten years younger and in poor health. My mom was so
attached to these two that she managed to get my aunt out of Cuba and have her
go to the Dominican Republic where she cared for her until just a couple of
years ago when she became very sick and returned to Cuba for free medical care.
After my aunt’s
passing I brought her to live with me and my partner’s extended family and all
seven of us lived harmoniously with a sprinkle of drama provided by mom who was
by all accounts the epitome of the Cuban drama queen.
During one of my mom’s
earlier visit to Cuba, at the time the Cuban government was more than happy to
have the exiles visit and bring American dollars…but there was a catch: they
had to take a “tour” where they were shown the supposedly great accomplishments
of the Revolution. My mom arrived in Cuba just about the time the funeral
procession for her sister was departing for the cemetery, the eldest of the
Valiente family died and mom did not get to see her as she was only able to
witness the closed casket as it was lowered into the family vault.
![]() |
| Our hometown – Bejucal – town center |
But mom’s grief made her forget everything and
in the process skipped the “tour” offered by the Cuban government which was
supposed to be “voluntary” but as she was departing on her return to America she
was questioned about not taking the “tour” and she told the first Cuban
Immigration official that she almost missed her sister’s funeral; then one very
arrogant Cuban Immigration official said to her: “Señora, I see here that you
didn’t take advantage of the generosity of our great revolution in the offering
of a free tour to show you traitor exiles how we have progressed and made such
great accomplishments”
![]() |
|
The street where we lived,
taken from the front porch
|
My mom responded to him with a litany of
profanities and insults to which the poor man was so humiliated that the only
reaction he could muster was to slap her in the face and threaten her to not
allowing her to get on the plane until she took the tour. Somehow, there was a
supervisor who may have overheard the man’s arrogance and allowed my mom to
board the plane and when she did, the flight that was being delayed because of
her incident…all the passengers applauded when they saw her come in the door.
I think that is the
one incident that defined my mom best: a fighter, a progressive liberal, who
voted not for Democrats but against any and all Republicans, one who loved her
adopted country – America with the great passion and patriotism as she did her
native land. She was a combative and antagonistic person who was unflappable
and not easily silenced; after all, she had to be that and more to be able to
have been married to my father for more than 55 years.
My mom, just like most
Cuban women employed the guilt technique on family and friends and if the
Jewish moms are said to use this to the hilt; I think my mom would give them a
run for their money. Once such incident I found amusing was when she gave me
two shirts for my birthday. I of course had to say I liked them and thanked her
and then wore one for the first time. She saw me, looked at the shirt and said:
“I see you’re wearing the shirt I gave you as a gift for your birthday…what’s
the matter, you didn’t like the other one?”
![]() |
My mom’s cigar table may have
looked like this after a day’s labor
|
My mom started working making cigars in our
hometown tobacco factory when she was 11 and never stopped working even after
she retired at age 89 and did so only because she went to take care of her
sister in Santo Domingo; to her work was not a burden but a pleasure and one of
the few people I have known who actually looked forward to the next day in
order to go to work…even when the work she did was strenuous or demeaning…she
did it all, from making cigars to supervising the Cuban Lottery’s weekly
drawings, from domestic servant to factory work. She also returned to trade
school in her fifties and learned to sew and that provided her with a skill to
secure a loftier better paying job as a seamstress which is what she did until
she retired.
She is survived by me,
the only son and two grand-daughters: Diurys Olivia Murphy and Darlyn Odette
Rodriguez-Hayes both of Seattle, Washington.
I want to thank each
and everyone who has been so gracious and kind by offering me support and get
well wishes.
Cuentos de la Tía Eloi - http://cuentostiaeloi.blogspot.com/
![]() |
My mom as a 20 year old, her nickname
was “El Merenguito” (the cream
puff)
|
Por Raúl Rodríguez Valiente Copyright 2008, 1-94170031 Estos cuentos
cubren un periodo de aproximadamente 100 años, visto tras los grises ojos de
Eloina Valiente, nonagenaria dama que nos relata y obsequia con una ojeada a la
Cuba de ayer al igual que las observaciones de Eloi de sucesos y temas
contemporáneos. Es una tajada de la cultura, del pueblo, la historia de Cuba y
en especial el pueblito de Bejucal.


























