Cathedrals.
Ayuntamientos. Culture
shock. Differences in food, clothing and
a way of life. Juzgado, the place that
houses certificates and documents within ancient books; so old one wants to reach out and touch the
pages, run one’s fingers across the beautiful writing to find the names and
dates there. We now sit in Merida, mid-way between Fuentesauco and Seville.
The cementarios / cemeteries were next – Saturday was
Cemetery Day. We were hesitant to lose
our perfect parking spot near Santa Maria Cathedral near the plaza mayor and
our hotel, but it was cemetery day…
Beginning in Toro, we first stopped at the Ayuntamiento ---
where I snapped more photos of the stained glass windows and a quick stop to
the toilets before we began our little road trip. As I am learning to translate Spanish into
English very slowly, it wasn’t until I pressed the water spigot to wash my
hands that my slow American brain told me I was NOT to use the water. Oh! It
wouldn’t turn off… so water was still running when we left and nobody was
anywhere in sight… it was Saturday after all.
We’d just discussed the water the night before wondering where the well
was located in the plaza mayor…I felt terrible..
The map (plano) led us to the cemetery where we hoped to
find a “Marzo” or a “Trascasas”.
On our way into Calle Cementario, (aptly named) we saw wide
sidewalks lining the avenue from the main road all the way to the cemetery. Several women walked along the way, all wearing dresses -- no jeans.--- to and from the cemetery gates. Benches were placed along the way for resting
and several enjoyed the respite. Once
inside the entryway to the cemetery, we found many names, none of which
belonged to our family. Stones higher
than my head, marble, smoother than silk; flat, curved, mounded and many
covered with flowers, urns to hold bouquets, stone etched with names, dates and D.E.P. = Descansa en paz. (in America it
would read R.I.P.)
After taking several photos, disappointed at the lack of
familial names on any of the grave stones, Steven found the poor section… There
were no names, rigid crosses stuck in the rocky soil among weeds and bits of broken
glass surrounded the barren grounds. We
were both drawn toward it; we knew it probably housed our families… So, we
picked up memorial rocks; iIt was the best we could do and we will bring them
home.
With our bag of rocks, we drove toward Fuentesauco, the
village of the Silvan and Hernandez Martin families. Three villages waited.
Villaescusa -- Five miles east of Fuentesauco: Angel SILVAN Martin was born and was probably
buried in this village. He was Celestino
SILVAN Alejo’s father. (Celestino was
father to Victorino, Juan and Cristencia Silvan). ALSO born there was Margarita MARTIN
Rodriguez and we can only assume she was also buried there. She was mother to Agustina Hernandez
Martin. Agustina was mother to
Victorino, Juan and Cristencia. We found
the cemetery easily once we drove into the village because it appeared as most
cemeteries do in these villages: following a tree-lined lane from the church to
the outskirts of the village. The doors
were locked but I found a way in (don’t ask).
It was small and again, no Silvan or Martin could be found. We couldn’t even find the poor section within
the stone wall that surrounded the shrines and it was in such disrepair… As we
picked our way out, locked the gates and stepped along the chapel’s entrance,
there was an ancient tree (long dead) with a board-covered paper encased in
plastic with a poem. Steven translated
it for me and we both agreed the area and the tree had once been touched with love.
Villamor de los Escuderos --- Six miles west of Fuentesauco. This village was just a mite larger than
Villasescusa and felt friendly the minute we arrived. We found the old stone church and our car
found the cemetery… Another locked gate but within minutes we were within the
stone walls. Steven and I wanted to find
the stone for Miguel HERNANDEZ Hernandez.
He was the father to Agustina Hernandez Martin, mother to Victorino,
Juan and Cristencia. This is the village
where bisabuela Agustina was born. More
photos. More graves. Beautiful sacred
moments but no family stone could be found there either.
Time to settle into Fuentesauco; we saved the major village
for last as we felt the tug of Silvan blood lead us along. I was quaking a bit as I stepped out of the
car, camera in hand and we walked through the small doorway leading us within
the cemetery walls. It was large and a
center pathway slanted upward, as if it was built on a hill and surrounded by
stone walls on three sides. Suddenly
quite daunted, I reminded Steven of the names we were looking for --- SILVAN,
Alejo, Hernandez, Martin, Hidalgo and Gonzales.
He chose one side and I the other.
The sun was hot and so were we by then…
Our eyes strained to read every single gravestone, some tightly wedged
so close that we couldn’t fit our foot between them. Walking, stooping, reading the etchings
against the glaring sun and snapping photos of names that sounded familiar
(Zamorano, Alonso, Martin). No Silvans
but we trudged on.
An ah-ha moment!!! My heart thudded when I found a small
sign at the head of a crypt: FAMILIA OF HERNANDEZ MARTIN. This, I knew was bisabuela Agustina Silvan
and her family. We believe (Vicki, Lynda
and Julie and I) this Martin family linked us through Agustina Hernandez Martin,
who may have been directly related to Ramona Martin, the wife to Victorino
Silvan. (There are also Martins in the
Ruiz family so don’t get these confused with the other Martin cousins). The gravestone was simple and so touching, I
felt tears. I snapped photos until my
finger hurt….
Toward the exit, a man saw my camera and reminded me not to take
photos of gravestones as they were private…
We had no idea! The deed was
already done but he couldn’t know that, so we stooped to pick up Fuentesauco
memorial rocks, held my camera tightly and sped for the car. No Silvan gravestone! Were they so poor the family couldn’t buy a
stone? Did the Silvan family leave for
other parts of Spain? Where were all the
siblings? Where was bisabuela Celestino
Silvan buried? Where? Where?
My heart was pretty heavy but only for a few moments – we’d come so far
and I had an address where they lived: 6 San Salvador, Fuentesauco. -- SEE NEXT BLOG POSTING
Posts
