In the 50s and 60s of the 20th century, the migration process from Taucho to Venezuela was like a series of songs with a rhythm not only of faith but also of desolation. The chords of the songs were simple and emotionally charged. One or several voices used to sing about the vicissitudes of life both in Taucho and in Venezuela: from loves to heartbreaks, including the necessities of life. And everyone knew that in a good song the melody was always repeated. What really varied was the lyrics and the way it was told. The only condition was that the song should not be a nonsense and that the singer should have some jeito.
In Taucho and in Venezuela there was something that was always changing. It was probably happening everywhere. Nobody knew what exactly that becoming or change was, but everybody tried to embrace it, embrace it, understand it, interpret it and even reinterpret it. The meaning of life before, and of course also now, used to be very fast and elusive. What would that sense of disorientation be: a question with an answer, a question without an answer or an answer without a question.
The letters fulfilled a social function. Letters were a formidable bridge between the Canary Islands and America. Social networks were not necessary. Letters did not need a password but a little patience to reach their destination. The paper of the letters and the ink used to write them lasted over time. The words in the letters always recounted the important things and above all the desire to return. One of the most frequently repeated words in a letter from Venezuela addressed to Taucho was the following: thank you. And vice versa. Gratitude and respect for the people were found on both sides of the Atlantic. For the Taucho people, saying thank you was a reciprocal desire and a vital goal, as well as a sign of affection and good manners.
In Taucho, before many taucheros emigrated to Venezuela, milk had to be fetched in Aponte. Water was stored in one of the ponds in Taucho. Water could also be obtained in La Capellanía and El Lomo del Caballo. The water was carried in pots that were placed on top of the heads of each person and this is how the water reached most of the houses. Without water there was no life. Bread was made only occasionally on the occasion of festivals, as it was a luxury. The wheat that was toasted in Taucho had to be taken to Adeje to a machine to finally get the gofio. Even some exotic avocado trees lay on the ground in Taucho, fruit of the migratory relations with Cuba.
Taucho and Venezuela were connected through Vilaflor, via the suitcases arriving from Venezuela. The suitcases did not travel directly to Taucho from Venezuela, but made a penultimate stop in Vilaflor. As soon as the notice arrived or the word spread, the lucky recipient would set off with his mule from Taucho through the Barranco de la Quinta ravine in search of the suitcase. The suitcases usually contained coffee, powdered milk, biscuits and clothes. And, of course, a surprise could also appear in one of those suitcases, which almost had a life of their own. It rained a lot in those days. In many cases it was not even possible to walk through the ravines that were part of the terrain. The roads ran up against the imposing ravines.
Taucho is located in the municipality of Adeje, in the south of the island of Tenerife, Canary Islands, Spain. The fiestas of Taucho take place on the last Sunday of June in honour of the Virgen de Coromoto. There is very little time left to enjoy them. Don't miss them. The fiestas of Taucho are a festival of faith and trust. Taucho will always be an endearing and grateful place.
Excellent writing, very well narrated!