The Legend

A little Cuban blood runs through Clotilda’s veins… the beautiful Clotilda. For at least 5 generations the family named its first-born daughters Clotilda in memory of Clotilda’s ingenuity. This was until Amancio, a creole with roots from Extremadura, bought the place and baptized it with the name of “El Provecho”, close to Carolina, near the rivers Candón and Salado that finish in the Caribbean sea at the Bay of Jaguay. It was in this bay, amongst palm trees and bushes, that the Hispanic blood became mixed thanks to the furtive meetings between the creole great-great grandmother Clotida, known as the beautiful Clotilda, and a good looking, strong and powerfully virile peasant. They say that they were moments of weakness and that there was no love between them, just pleasure, but their blood was mixed all the same.

As a result of one of these meetings, great grandmother Clotilda was born, of dark skin and who, at twenty years of age, married a doctor of the Spanish Armada who saw in her (she was an only child) the future inheritance of the ingenuous “El Provecho”, a well chosen name since the estate produced 32,000 arrobas of sugar. The great grandmother Clotilda had 6 children, two girls and four boys. The first girl was grandmother Clotilda, with slightly lighter skin, named just like her mother and grandmother. Her skin was lighter in colour, she was fine and slim, calm and intelligent. She soon showed an interest in music. When she turned twenty years of age her father, a doctor who had become a sugar producer, sent her to Boston to study music. The doctor could see very clearly that all of that would finish, that the Cubans were searching for independence and that the United States were playing hard. This didn’t worry him, and astute as he was had his fortune split between a bank in New Orleans and the Banca Asturiana. He was born in Pola de Siero and origins always draw one back. In Boston, Clotilda began to play the harp – she had to play something since she was studying in the conservatory. While studying she fell in love with a Catalan from Sabadell who owned a restaurant. The doctor did not object to the marriage, he was very happy considering how things were turning out in Cuba. He attended the wedding with his wife Clotilda and there he stayed as Cuba became independent. Three of his six children joined them, and a son and a daughter remained in Cuba for love, a strong enough reason.

The great grandmother Clotilda died ten years later. Her husband had died two years previously and the fortune that was born from “El Provecho” was shared amongst them. The harpist, who never gave a concert and her husband had a daughter. The daughter was named Clotilda – there was no other option. She didn’t like the atmosphere in Boston, nor the climate - it was too cold for her, and when she got married, she did so with an architect, son of Hungarians, and they left to live in Alburquerque, New Mexico. The architect became a constructor who, through the marriage had enough money available to him and so began building skyscrapers and whole neighbourhoods, and thus multiplied the family fortune, but all this without achieving his wife’s happiness. One fine day, Clotilda disappeared from Alburquerque and turned up in Buenos Aires, and lived with a hotel director who spent more time with her than with the hotel. The child she did not have with the architect, she later did so on marrying the hotelier. She had a daughter and called her Clotilda.

Little Clotilda, who in time has become the beautiful Clotilda, as beautiful as her great-great grandmother, as they say. When she turned thirty, at the peak of her beauty, a lover of life, joyful and carefree, intelligent, vivacious, she tracked her roots and arrived in Sabadell. And there she remained… well, that’s another story I might tell you another day.

J. Llop S.

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