We were away from New York for a few days. Among other things, Peni attended a meeting promoted by Hispanic representatives in DC. Yes. Hispanic Heritage Month starts. Congress members of Hispanic origin organized a forum to address various problems faced by Latinx in the United States. There was at least one discussion about promoting the Spanish language. Indeed, all the people who were there spoke Spanish. The funny thing is that everything was done in English. Nobody in this country knows that the first history made in the territory of what is now the United States was written in Spanish.
After the meeting, there was a gala. In Romance languages, the word gala is related to elegance. Nothing is further from that than the "gala" we attended. The women wore long dresses, and some men wore tuxedos, but the space did not seem very elegant. Dinner was overcooked and not particularly good. I omit to mention the wines. I'm not saying it was terrible, but it definitely wasn't a "gala," as we understand it in other languages.
At that gala, awards were given to some people, almost all representatives, so I got the impression that the congress members were awarding themselves. Joe Biden was in attendance, delivering an unmemorable speech. He immediately left the room.
After that, we took a taxi to Union Station. The driver was listening to a song on the radio that we liked. We wonder for its name was. He told us: love nwantiti.
He proudly added that it was a Nigerian song. I told Peni that I would like to get to know that country. She remembered that a friend from the University was from Lagos. The driver asked us about our origin. Mexico, we replied, but Peni added that she was born in Cuba.
Yoruba Sister! --the driver said. He added that Cuba and Nigeria are sister countries, as both are Yoruba countries. We came listening to Nigerian music. What better way to get back to Harlem.