I was six years old when my grandfather died. My nono. I was very young, but I have some very vivid memories of him. I remember one afternoon when it was pouring rain, and I was sitting on the porch of his house. Suddenly, I decided to drink water from a stream that was flowing through a broken canoe. When I was in the middle of my mischief, soaked from head to toe, he came out to scold me because that water was dirty. If I kept doing it, I would get sick.
At 57 years old, he shuffled his feet, wore pajamas, and stared at me through his thick-rimmed glasses. I thought that if a sick person told me that, I had to take it very seriously. I never drank water from broken canoes again.
There were many people at his funeral. My nona was sitting in the front row. I sat on her lap and cried with her. I barely knew my nono, Fidel Tristán, and now he was gone.
A protective jade
Shortly after, I went with my dad to my nono‘s empty office at the National Insurance Institute. Zulay Soto, the director of the Jade Museum, took me by the hand and showed me boxes full of pre-Columbian artifacts. She explained that my grandfather had done an exemplary job purchasing those pieces. I felt very proud.
I had no idea what they did at the INS, but I knew that he had done something unique, something unrepeatable. Then Zulay took me to a dark room, with lights shining on small green stone figures that glowed and let the light through. Jade figures.
Jade does not occur naturally in Costa Rica. In pre-Columbian times, it was prized as a symbol of power and was brought in blocks from the Motagua River, which flows between Guatemala and Honduras. Local artisans learned how to carve it from Olmec and Mayan masters. There were workshops in Guanacaste and on the Caribbean plains for about 1,500 years, starting in 600 BC.
A few days ago, I went back to the museum. I go there often, especially since it moved to the west side of the Plaza de la Democracia. I always discover something new. This time, I learned that our pre-Columbian peoples had a protective spirit from birth. These spirits could be embodied in a jade rock in the shape of a bird or a mammal.
I remembered that our ancestors associated the birds that flew through the night sky with the interior of the Earth. I thought about my connection to geology, searched through the museum display cases, and found a bird-shaped pendant. An owl like the one I hear almost every night, next to my window. I had found my protective jade.
A personal collage
Often, when I introduce myself to people my parents’ age, they ask me, “Are you related to Don Fidel?” And I reply, “Yes, of course, I’m his granddaughter.” Then words of admiration and anecdotes about his life emerge, which has allowed me to put together a personal collage of my nono, with all his lights and shadows.
One of his passions was preserving our cultural heritage. He probably inherited that passion from his father, José Fidel Tristán Fernández. So, when he was director general of the INS, my nono created the Jade Museum. He knew how to take advantage of the fact that, since 1973, autonomous institutions could allocate part of their budget to the purchase of Costa Rican works of art.
Like other prominent figures of his generation, such as José Figueres, Guido Sáenz, and Alberto Cañas, he recognized the importance of culture for its symbolic and social value. Those were times of greater enthusiasm and less calculation; times to invest in music and theater, cinema and dance for Costa Ricans. My nono grew up and believed in that world. He devoted his best efforts to those ideals.
He was passionate about knowledge, good food, and the best conversation. He was a tall, elegant, and charming man who knew how to enjoy life intensely. They say that, on one occasion, a twist of fate led my nona to catch him red-handed in his amorous escapades. He then exclaimed: “María, María, this salting deserves your forgiveness.” It seems that even in extreme situations, on the brink of disaster, he knew how to respond with humor and elegance.
Time passes and I continue to discover my nono when I respond: yes, I am Fidel’s granddaughter. The stories about him help me understand where I come from, why I love stones, and why I live life intensely. I listen to the owl outside my window and think of my nono. He has accompanied me throughout all these years, as has his love for jade, life, and art.