She was Priscila but only a woman in the whole town called by her actual name to La Morena. My grandmother never knew why their parents chose that name,or even where it came from. It was not a very common name in 1920. She was a person who survived throughout the Second World War, the Spanish Civil War, Franco, transition, democracy, and many misfortunes of those days that she used to remember singing popular songs.
Her life was focused on strong principles of conduct, family, work and religion.
When trying to describe La Morena, my mind moves to Sunday lunchtime. Dark-heeled shoes with a gold detail, panties, black knee high skirt and a beautiful blouse printed with flowers. A must in her style was a perfectly make-up lips in pink lipstick and a good dose of lacquer Nelly to fix her hair combed. Her daily ritual was to wash her face with soap and thoroughly apply a piece of cotton impregnated with 96º alcohol. A liturgy that made her skin looks perfectly, radiant and full of life. Her wavy black hair was a perfect tandem with her green eyes.
La Morena, according to the people who knew her, was a woman with a lush beauty. Photographers of that time died for trying to capture on paper the perfect combination of beauty and personality of Priscila.
La More was beloved and admired. She was always willing to listen, help and lend her shoulder. Sometimes she was the victim of his temper and his strong personality.
When the Camino de Santiago was barely exploited, La Morena received letters and postcards from London, Lisbon, Bilbao or any pilgrim who wanted to thank her for her hospitality. A glass of fresh water, a chorizo sandwich or a while under the shade of the fig trees of the house was reason enough to invest in a seal destined for Ledigos.
Since the 50s the Bar La Cueza was an obligatory stop for pilgrims, traders and neighbors. The star dishes of La Morena were stewed tripe(callos guisados), lamb roasted in the wood oven or pork products. Some customers paid religiously and some others not, but there were never a missing glass of wine accompanied by a piece of tradition.
It is very difficult to trace in people and history but my grandmother did it. Today she is a well-known person and recognized for her good work.
My curiosity started by her name. I wanted to know the meaning of Priscilla, my name and my grandmother´s. It's short for Prisca, priscus derived from Latin; it means "old, ancient". It refers to the tangible and intangible that no longer exist today, it was in the past, from another time. It was a term used poetically in the imperial era, with nuances of reverence and respect for ancestral. Now I understand why my grandparents chose that name for her, Priscila, La Morena.
Su hija y sus nietos queremos rendirle este homenaje, en su casa, donde trataremos que cada rincón no olvide su esencia.
Her daughter and her grandchildren want to pay this tribute, in her home.
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