If I Were an Animorph

Chances are you don’t know what I’m talking about when I title this blog post with “Animorph”. This was a series of books that came out in my formative, middle-school years (late 90’s, early 2000’s). There were dozens. Looking back with 3 years of an English degree under my belt, I can safely say the sheer numbers of Animorphs books probably indicates the quality of them left much to be desired. Doesn’t matter. I loved these books. The basic idea: Some alien technology comes to Earth and only a few teenagers have access to it. The kids can acquire the DNA of any animal they touch and then have the ability to morph into that animal at will. Get it? MORPHing into ANImals. They’re Ani-Morphs. Yes, this is a silly premise, but I hope it will shed more light on my experience here in Tamaula.

So, if I were an Animorph the animal I would morph into first would be my family’s donkey. Why this donkey specifically? There are two reasons. First, the donkey is named “Tomás” (which is the name I use when I’m speaking Spanish). I asked my family a couple of weeks ago what the donkey was named and they told me it didn’t have a name. I immediately requested they call it Tomás and when they asked why I said it was so they don’t forget me after I leave. This has actually turned into quite the little joke. I think at least half of the town knows about the donkey named Tomás. When they see me they ask about Tomás and I say, “Which one?” That always gets a laugh. We also talk about how after I leave the family can still talk to a Tomás. They’ll just be saying things like “¡Cállate Tomás!” (Shut up Tomás!) and “¿Tomás está amarrado?” (Is Tomás tied up?).

Tomás el Burro

If you are unfortunate enough to have ever lived near a donkey, you know what an awful noise they make. Trust me, there’s a reason they don’t teach kids in nursery schools what sounds a donkey makes. I am interested to find out what those donkeys are actually thinking when they make so much noise pollution. When I was reflecting on donkeys a few weeks back I started to compare them to the boy who cried wolf. Donkeys always sound like they’re dying so I wonder what noise they would make if they actually got hurt. Because they’re always bellowing they get ignored and I think this would work against them in the case of an actual injury or emergency.

After my day as the donkey Tomás I would morph into Doña Lucas. Doña Lucas is a young hen that lives at Doña Mago and Don Rey’s house where Colleen and Caroline stay. I noticed it the first day I arrived because of its broken leg. As I mention in my guest blog post about Doña Mago I also suspect my affinity for Doña Lucas contributes to Doña Mago finding me hilarious. I might just be projecting here; she probably just recognizes how ridiculous I am.

My last morph would be into a person, well, a new person—the baby I live with. Leo is the son of Alejandro and Rosario. I think I’ve mentioned earlier that Alejandro is about 3 months older than me. He’s married, has a one-year old, and his wife is about to pop again. It does not make this blog’s most avid reader laugh when I tell her about how much catching up I have to do when I get back to the United States. Leo is one of the cutest babies I’ve met. One of the things that is most cute about him is how much he likes to talk. He knows 3 words and all start with the letter “P”. The first, not surprisingly, is “papa”. The other two are, respectively, “puta” and “pinche”. I’m purposely not translating here because they’re what Doña Martina calls “grosserias” (cuss words). Yes, I do living with a cussing baby. I’m been trying in vain for weeks now to clean up his language and teach him how to say “Tomás”. Why morph into a cussing baby? I just want him to say my name! One of the main reasons I’m thinking about returning in March is because Leo’s mom has promised that if I come back in March he’ll know how to say “Tomás”. That might just turn out to be all the motivation I need.