AlmaTanguera

I love millions of different ways how I am addressed here in Argentina. From the obvious chinita, to the very porteño nena, señorita, mujersita, mamita or just mami, to the more formal Señora at la Migracion where I went last week to get a new visa, even to a politically very incorrect patroncita when I was travelling up north in the provinces of Jujuy and Salta where the inhabitants are mostly darker descendents of the indiginous Indians. Meanwhile, there is another long list of linda, bonita, hermosa, mi amor, corazon, pobrecita, etc., which can give light to a gloomy day. Charmed by all these affectionate callings, my unpronounceable foreign name that is by the way of Xiaosong Que has become somewhat irrelevant while I'm here in Argentina. Whatever, it makes me feel so good when I, a visitor from afar, am treated like one of their own!

Things as such will make my departure in the foreseeable future a hard thing.

On a lighter note, I got into a mild argument with a local lady last week who was complaining about millions of tiresome expressions in Spanish on the same subject matter while all could be simplified as they are in English. We failed to agree with each other in the end but my guessing is that she is possibly more tired with the hazardous life here than her really truly expressive mother tongue.

Nowhere else have I seen so many babies.

Here in Buenos Aires, it strikes me how many babies I come across every other day. Human babies, puppies, kittens. And they are so young. Some are new born, others a couple of weeks, or mostly one to two months old. Such tender young lives!

The other day I went with O to give food to a street dog who just gave birth to three puppies around the corner of his house only a few hours earlier. It was a punishingly hot afternoon for the mama and her babies. The bitch was panting impossibly in hardly a shade under a dying tree. Her fresh new-borns were lying on the mud barely moving. A lady from the neighbourhood came too with water. We piled up some broken bricks attempting to build a shelter for the family, willing them to survive.

A couple of days later when I asked about the family of four, I was told that they were taken away by a government van and gased. I was so shocked to hear this that I was speechless. No words, there are simply no words for this.

While writing this, I think of all the bare feet dirt smeared children begging on and off the commuter-trains in Buenos Aires. And the number seems increasing.

And here I am, dancing tango under the same starry sky of Buenos Aires.