The Americanization of Jose

By Xlibris US

This short biography is the story of the author Jose Cabrejo from his early childhood until he became a citizen of the United States in 1961. Born in Chorrillos, Peru, his young life was affected by a series of traumatic events which culminated with his arrival to this wonderful country. After having experienced a bout with Tuberculosis and its social implications the author was determined to change his way of life and become a productive and conscientious member of this great society called America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499005455

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was a cold, humid, and misty day in July—very typical of Lima, the capital of Peru. As Jose stood on the wet surface of the Limatambo International Airport’s tarmac, a fine drizzle, called garua by the locals, gently fell down his face. In front of him, the huge Constellation plane began warming up its engines prior to the start of the trip, which was to take him first to Caracas, Venezuela, and eventually to Washington, DC, the capital of the USA.

He had no idea of what was in store for him in the year 1951. His knowledge of the United States was only what he had seen in the movies or read in magazines: a fabulous country with extremely handsome people and a glorious past. His favorite actor was the American, John Wayne, the dashing hero of Bataan and other epic films. There was, however, one movie that touched Jose profoundly. This was James Stewart’s portrayal of a rookie congressman named Smith, who went to Washington DC only to learn that he was being used by corrupt politicians. To Jose, who was sixteen years old at the time, Jimmy Stewart epitomized all that was good with America, and he yearned to someday emulate his actor-hero. Soon he’d have the opportunity to see firsthand whether his dreams would become the real thing or would remain just a figment of his imagination.

Jose walked up the ladder leading to the door of the enormous airplane, went up a few steps, and paused temporarily to turn around and take a look at the country he was leaving behind, wondering whether he would ever see it again. Politely urged by a stewardess, he entered the airplane and started looking around for the rest of the family. They were seven in all:

Lt. Col. Jose del Carmen Cabrejo was the head of the family. Small of stature and of a dark olive complexion, he was barely five feet two inches in height. A diminutive and pathetic-looking figure, he was dressed awkwardly as a civilian. However, when dressed in his Peruvian Army uniform, he became a very impressive figure. His military bearing usually commanded the respect and admiration of those who knew him well. At forty-four years of age, Lieutenant Colonel Cabrejo had progressively moved up through the ranks in the Peruvian Army. Having recently served as the secretary of development and public works (which included the petroleum and mines sections), the then government of Gen. Manuel A. Odria saw it fit to send him as the Peruvian representative to the Inter-American Defense Board located in Washington, DC. His boss would be none other than US Army Gen. Matthew Ridgeway, soon to be named commanding general of the United Nations forces fighting the communists in the Korean Peninsula.

Next in line was his wife, Mrs. Emperatriz Gutierrez de Cabrejo, a matronly looking middle-aged lady who was terrified of her first airplane trip. Mrs. Cabrejo was entering that age most feared by husbands whose spouses, upon reaching middle-age, transformed themselves into obsessively paranoid human beings, venting their wrath—sometimes unpredictably—on their unsuspecting husbands, accusing them of all kinds of wrongdoings, no matter how insignificant they’d turn out to be. Mrs. Cabrejo would eventually become the victim of her own fantasized jealousy.

Following her mother was Manuelita, seventeen years old and the family’s only daughter. She was a fragile, sad-looking young lady whose dark hair and deep black eyes gave her the look of a young Gypsy girl. Her plain looks and noticeable shyness conspired against her having a normal relationship with members of the opposite gender. As a result, she became increasingly introverted, afraid of the mundane world that surrounded her, preferring to remain close to her mother.

Next came fifteen-year-old Victor, the studious one, and a wizard in mathematics. His ambition was to become an oil engineer and graduate from the Colorado School of Mines with a degree in petroleum engineering, located in Aspen, Colorado. His no-nonsense attitude and scholarly manner limited his relationships to the intellectual types.

Following Victor was Carlos, the always-smiling sibling with a Mediterranean-European look. His wishes were to become an officer of the Peruvian Army and someday be like his father. Cali, as he was known, had survived a previous terrible accident. However, no side effects were detectable during this time.

Immediately after Carlos came Luis el Rumishonco, whose Quechua nickname meant the lionhearted. Rumi, for short, was the youngest member of the family, and the main reason why the trip’s first leg ended up in Venezuela. Rumi happened to be the godchild of Gen. Marcos Perez Jimenez, a comrade-in-arms of Lieutenant Colonel Cabrejo at the war college of the Peruvian Army, and head of the military junta that governed Venezuela in 1951. Rumi’s good looks and his command of the English language made him a prime candidate for a bright and successful future.

Accompanying the group was Maria, a sixteen-year-old Quechuan Indian servant whose ruddy complexion gave every indication that she was from the upper regions of the Peruvian Andes. She was handpicked by the lieutenant general to assist Mrs. Cabrejo in the many domestic tasks involved in raising the Cabrejo family, such as washing and ironing clothes. Because of her youthful Inca-doll features, Maria was looked down on with disdain and scorn by Mrs. Cabrejo, who saw the poor Indian girl as real female competition. Her jealousy brought about unnecessary stress and tension on the whole family. The siblings, on their part, deplored the irate reactions of their mother, finding them totally unjustified and cruel. However, complying with the current norms of Peruvian society, they preferred to remain silent, hoping their mother would eventually transcend and leave behind that abhorrent stage of her life.

Bringing up the rear and last to enter the plane, Jose—whose boarding pass called for him to sit next to an elderly couple—sat behind the seats occupied by his parents, siblings, and servant. Completely worn-out, showing the ravages of the still prevalent disease his young body was carrying, the adolescent adjusted and tightened his safety belt; and just as he heard the Constellation’s propellers reach a crescendo, he fell sound asleep. His subconscious rapidly took over, and a kaleidoscope of images began forming in the deep recesses of his mind, bringing forward events from his tortuous and chagrined past.

Chapter 2

Jose had a very happy childhood. His father, a young lieutenant in the Peruvian cavalry, was his hero and the source of much of his happiness. The lieutenant, making his Sunday appearances mounted on a magnificent brownish-yellow stallion named Melocoton (Spanish for Peaches), would grab and lift the then four-year-old tyke, placing him behind his mount. Jose, eagerly and joyfully, would put his arms around his father’s waist, holding on tight as they merrily trotted up and down the cobblestone streets of their old neighborhood.

The family’s house was situated in Chorrillos, a seaside resort town some ten miles south of Lima. Chorrillos, in Spanish, means little water jets—so named because of the many water streams cascading down from the innards of the cliffs over which the town was built. Chorrillos was also the site of the famed Peruvian Military Academy, where a battalion of cavalry was posted near the academy grounds. Being close to home, Lieutenant Cabrejo was allowed to bring Peaches out of the cavalry stables on Sunday mornings for the horse’s required weekly grooming.

As the Cabrejo family began to grow larger, the house in St. Rose Street gradually became smaller, and Jose’s parents contemplated the need to move to larger quarters. Looking around the immediate area, Lieutenant Cabrejo found what he thought to be the perfect place to raise his growing family—at the end of Enrique Palacios Street. The house, a two-story building, faced the seaside malecon, or promenade, for which Chorrillos was well known. People from all over Lima would come down on Saturday evenings for a walk on the malecon and to enjoy the majestic view of the Pacific Ocean at sunset. At the same time, they would have the opportunity to listen to the army band play romantic boleros, Peruvian waltzes, and patriotic marineras—at which the army band excelled. The marinera is a type of dance requiring an introductory roll of drums, at which instance couples would circle each other while waving white handkerchiefs, urging each other in a handsome choreographic manner, displaying their talents and proficiency with graceful dance steps. The dancers would stop altogether at the end of the song. The band would then start once again, rolling the drums in military fashion, inviting the dancers to resume their musical tryst with the enthusiastic approval of the gathered crowd.

Chorrillos was also known because of its public beaches: Agua Dulce (Sweet Water) and La Herradura (The Horseshoe). Agua Dulce, being the more popular of the two, was the favorite of the middle-class population of Lima. On summer days, people would crowd the beach in such a way that only the early birds would benefit from any available space. La Herradura—situated at the end of a winding road built around the edge of the Morro Solar, a mountain protruding into the sea—formed the natural southern limits of Chorrillos. La Herradura was the preferred place for tourists and the affluent classes of Lima. One other smaller beach called Pescadores (or Fishermen’s Beach) was located directly below the cliffs of Chorrillos and served, as its name indicates, as the home base for about two hundred sturdy and very efficient fishermen—most of them descendants of Spaniards who came to Peru to profit from its fabulous gold and silver mines. However, having found the prevalent riches of the sea along the coastal waters near Lima much to their liking, they instead opted to work in the prosperous seafood business.

Customarily, the fishermen would set out to sea in two shifts. The early group would sail at dawn every day, returning around noon, lining up alongside the espigon (or fishermen pier). The pier consisted of a large man-made, rocky jetty topped with concrete. It had an unloading platform on the right side about two-thirds of the way out into the sea. The fishermen would unload their precious cargo, taking turns at separating the fish by kind and size. Fish not big enough to sell would be given away to the crowd that gathered daily at the pier, hoping for the chance to partake of any leftover fish.

In the summertime, it was truly a magnificent sight, watching the fishermen’s flotilla appear in the horizon at noon under full-blown white sails. The boats seemed to skim over the emerald-green waters of the Pacific Ocean. The blue skies and the omnipresent summer sun for a background made it a real delight to see the incoming sailboats approaching the coast with their much-awaited cargo.

The evening crews were the most experienced due to the fact that they had to navigate at night, relying solely on their keen senses and good fortune. They spent most of the daytime at the beach mending their nets or repairing and maintaining their boats, making sure their craft remained seaworthy. Usually, a cook would accompany each individual boat. The cook would bring along a small coal-fired cast-iron stove, which would keep the fishermen warm with hot coffee or equally hot bowls of spicy fish broth called chilcano. They would also bring along a bottle of clear Peruvian brandy, or pisco, just in case the temperature would fall below the comfortable level. At dawn, with the night-fishing done and their nets put away, they would head back to the pier where they would sell some of their fish to the local merchants. The rest of the fish was put into large wicker baskets, covered with dry ice, and sent to the wholesale markets of Lima to be sold to restaurant owners or other enterprising merchants.

Naturally, the seamen’s patron saint was Peter the Fisherman. Every year on June 29, they would bring out the man-size statue of their patron saint, take him