Building Blocks

Juneta’s father nicknamed her ‘Tilde’. On the other hand, Juñeta was the one who gave Miguel his nickname. When he was born, Juñeta was only six years old. She could not pronounce Miguel, so she called him ‘Meego’, just like her ‘little amigo’, her brother, and friend.
Late in the afternoon, Juneta left her school to pick up Miguel. When he came out of the school, his backpack was empty.
“Meego! Where are your school books?”
“I don’t need them.”
“That can’t be.”
“This is all the homework Senorita Matilla gave me.”
He handed her a single piece of paper. It was a list of directions.
“One half-gallon milk carton, a large bucket, grass clippings, clay, dirt, sand, and hay.”
“That sounds easy, right?”
Juneta nodded.
“Mix the clay, dirt, sand, grass, and hay in the bucket (A wheelbarrow will also work, too).”
“That sounds easy, too.”
Juneta folded the paper and placed it in her pocket. As soon as they got home, Junie and Miguel prepared to make an adobe brick. Miguel went to his room and changed. By the time he came out, Junie was in the kitchen. She’d made a snack of bean burritos and milk.
“Help me drink the rest of the milk so we can have an empty carton.”
Miguel chugged his milk, only to have his sister pour another glass.
“I’m full.”
“There’s no time to be full. Drink your milk.”
So Miguel did as told. Afterwards, she cut the top and one side off the carton, forming a brick mold. Miguel followed her to the barn beside the house. She grabbed an old wash pail and a shovel.
“I’ll dig up the mud while you get some grass and hay.”
“How do I do that?”
“Just pick it out of the soil.”
Miguel knelt down and tore clumps of grass out of the ground. Just then, their father pulled up in his truck.
“Dios Mio! What are my little ones doing to my yard?”
“We’re making adobe,” said Miguel.
“I don’t know if this is quite how you do it.”
“What do you mean? My teacher gave me directions.”
Sr. Vasquez examined the directions.
“She didn’t tell you how to mix the ingredients.”
“We’re using a bucket.”
“Yes, but how much clay and sand are you going to use?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Every ingredient matters. If you use too much sand, the bricks will fall apart. If you don’t use enough, the clay will crack. You also need to consider the fillers, like grass and hay. They act like glue for the bricks, keeping them from falling apart.”
Sr. Vasquez carefully mixed the mud, adding just a bit of sand and grass. He squirted the mix with water from the garden hose before mixing it again. He alternated between adding sand, clay, and grass until it formed a thick red mud.
“Where’s your form?”
Juneta handed the milk carton to her father. He filled it with the mud mix.
“The directions say to set it outside for a couple of days.”
“I don’t think your teacher has ever made adobe before.”
“What do you mean?”
“Real bricks are placed in a kiln, which heats to over one-thousand degrees celcius.”
“That’s hot!” exclaimed Miguel.
“If it wasn’t that hot, it would take days or weeks just to create one brick. There are thousands of bricks in a small house.”
“But the Aztecs didn’t have kilns,” said Juneta.
“It wasn’t until much later that they discovered kilns, so they made bricks like these and dried them in the sun.”
“Can you imagine how many bricks they made for Tenochitlan?” said Juneta.
“They didn’t use adobe.”
“How did they build the temples?”
“Most of the ancient Mesoamerican civilizations, like the Aztecs, Toltecs, and Maya were stone cutters. They used manpower and ingenuity to cut giant building blocks from stone. Then, they moved them, sometimes great distances, to their temples. They stacked them in a way similar to a child stacking wooden blocks, although each stone was as heavy as a car.”
“Why do you think Srta. Matilla wants to make adobe bricks?”
“Many cultures still made use of adobe bricks for small buildings, like houses and storage rooms.”
Sr. Vasquez set the wet adobe brick out on a bench, in direct sunlight. Then, he went inside. The children followed.
“I thought we were going to put it in a kiln.”
“Not until it hardens enough to remove it from the milk carton.”
Sra. Vasquez, who was in the kitchen, overheard the tail end of the conversation.
“Is that what happened to my milk?”
Juneta nodded.
“I needed it for dinner.”
“We can go to the grocery store,” said Juneta.
“Here’s a couple of pesos. I also need some coffee.”
Juneta and Miguel went to the store to buy milk and coffee. Junie picked up the items and paid for them in quick order. They could not begin eating until mother got her milk.
“We’re home!” announced Junie.
“Just in time, dinner’s almost ready.”
“Here’s your milk,” said Junie, “and your coffee beans.”
“Grind the beans for me and I’ll do the rest.”
Juneta placed a handful of coffee beans into the grinder. With a flick of the switch, the grinder’s blades chopped the beans into tiny grounds. Juneta lifted the lid and pressed her face into the chopping bin. The strong aroma of fresh coffee beans smelled very fresh.
“Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee?”
“That would be fantastic.”
Juneta made two cups. One for her mother and a second for herself. She added a splash of milk to both cups.
“You can put the milk and coffee beans away now, dear.”
“I thought you needed milk to cook.”
“I never said that. I wanted café con leche and needed milk for my coffee.”
Juneta sighed.
“Don’t worry about it now. Besides, we’ve got fresh coffee and dinner’s ready.”
Sra. Vasquez pulled a hot dish from the oven. As soon as Juneta saw the corn tortillas wrapped in husks of corn, she knew her mother had prepared tamales.
“Please take these to the table for me.”
Juneta obeyed her mother, careful to use protective oven gloves.
“Tamales!” exclaimed Miguel.
Just as usual, everyone waited for Sr. Vasquez’s prayer before digging into their tamales.
“Ay! Caliente!” said Miguel as he peeled the cornhusk off the tamale. It was used to keep the tamale burning. Inside, a a thick tortilla made of corn flour wrapped the ingredients of the tamale. Miguel carefully nibbled on a corner.
“What kind of meat is inside?”
“I mde some with chicken and some with beef.”
“How do we tell which is which?”
“Check the inside.”
Miguel took a bite, revealing shredded beef.
“What if I want chicken?”
“Do you?”
Miguel shook his head. Except for Miguel’s distaste for anything spicy, her whole family was not that picky. Whatever she cooked, they liked.
Both of the men, however, did not like café con leche. Instead, they had what Sr. Vasquez jokingly called ‘leche sin café’ – milk without coffee. However, Sr. Vasquez sometimes sucked on un-ground coffee beans, mostly for their caffeine. He did not particularly like or dislike coffee – he just preferred milk.
After breakfast, he plucked a few beans out of the paper bag and popped them into his mouth. He also poured himself a glass of milk, just to soften the bitter taste of the fresh beans.
“May I please try some?” asked Miguel.
“They’re very strong and bitter. Are you sure?”
“Maybe just one.”
Sr. Vasquez plopped a single bean into Miguel’s tiny hand. Miguel popped it directly into his mouth, just like a jelly bean. His entire face puckered before Miguel quickly spat it out.
“I told you.”
“The only way I’ll enjoy coffee beans is with a game of loteria. Do you want to play?”
Father nodded.
“Why don’t we all play?” suggested Angelina.
“That sounds alright with me.”
Miguel fetched the game box from under the couch as everyone gathered in a circle. He handed out tables – bingo cards with images instead of numbers. The coffee beans were to act as markers, just like bingo chips.
“Toce su tables,” announced Miguel.
Everyone picked a ‘table’ or card and placed it in front of them. Then, Miguel shuffled the cards before drawing one. He flipped it over and looked at the picture.
“He makes a sound of ‘grrrrrrr.’”
“That could be anything,” said Junie.
“Guess.”
“El Chihuahua!” shouted Aunt Angelina.
Miguel shook his head. Then, everyone took turns guessing.
“El lobo? – (a wolf). El Toro? – (a bull) El Alligator?.”
Miguel shook his head to each one.
“What is it then? We give up,” said mother.
“Es un coche!”
“Un coche?” argued Juneta, “Un coche va ‘Vroom Vroom’ o “Beep Beep’.
Everyone else agreed. Very few buses growled. It did not matter too much, since nobody had the bus card on their tables.
Miguel picked another card and gave another clue.
“He makes a sound of ‘caw caw!’”
“El Cortorro? - (the parrot),” said mother.
“No.”
“El pajaro? - (the bird),” said father.
“No.”
“Un coche?” asked Aunt Angelina.
At that point, everyone laughed. Everyone, that is, except Miguel, who planted his hands on his hips and heaved a sigh.
“Quien sabe?” she said with a shrug. It meant ‘who knows?’
“El arbol pleno de coterros!”
“Meego!” exclaimed Aunt Angelina, “A tree full of parrots? You cannot make such clues.”
Miguel frowned for just a second. Until they took another turn. This time, Aunt Angelina was the new cantor (card reader). She picked a card and gave the clue. Soon, everyone forgot about Miguel’s clues. This included Miguel. He gave simple clues with simple answers.
They all laughed and played until Aunt Angelina looked at the clock.
“Diez en Punto!” she exclaimed. It was ten o’ clock, time for Aunt Angelina to return her job at the firehouse. It was also time for Juneta and Miguel to go to bed.
Aunt Angelina tucked them in, giving each a kiss on a cheek. Since it was so late, she did not tell them a bedtime story. Instead, she simply said two words.
“Suenos Amables.”
“Suenos Amables,” they each replied.
Sweet dreams indeed.