The "Chinita" Story

1985

A True Story

Written 02/2014* 1,106 Words *

By Howard Yasgar

Back in 1985, while living in Miami, I was fortunate to have a Cuban friend named Miguel Marquez.

Miguel was a refugee who had escaped from the island of Cuba in 1963.

Miguel came to work for me just a few days after arriving in Miami.

Not only did Miguel come to work for me, but he also became my very best friend. I taught him English and he taught me his best hillbilly Spanish.

Miguel had a large extended family, it consisted of his mother and father, five brothers and three sisters.

By 1985 almost all of Miguel’s family in one way or another had migrated to Miami except for one sister named Rosa, who was still in Cuba, she was married to a communist.

By 1985 Miguel and I had become such close friends that my wife and I were always invited to all the Marquez family functions.

One evening we were at a party at Miguel’s house, and I happened to mention that my wife and I were going to travel to the Dominican Republic the following week.

One of Miguel’s brother’s named Ricardo, who everyone called Rico, must have overheard our conversation and he asked if we would do him a favor when we were in the Dominican Republic, I said sure.

Rico got a sort of a sheepish look on his face, and he said “Chinita” I need you to bring me back as much Chinita as you can.

I knew that in Spanish, Chinita meant a little Chinese girl.

But I knew Ricardo couldn’t really be asking us to bring home Chinese Girls, so I asked him what the hell is Chinita?

Rico held up his thumb and forefinger, like he was holding a little bottle or a vial.

Rico then looked at me in a way so that my wife Katherine couldn’t see or hear what he was saying.

In Spanish Rico said, “Un liquido para sexo”, (a liquid for sex.)

I told Rico I had never heard of it.

Oh yes, Rico said, “You put a little on and you are good for a whole evening”

I said, “What the hell is it Novocain?

No, no, Rico said it’s not a medicine, it’s just an all-natural herb grown only in the Dominican Republic.

I didn’t realize it, but it appeared that quite a few people at the party had been listening to our conversation.

They now were all laughing hysterically.

It appears everyone knew what Chinita was except me, and they were all probably wondering how dumb I could be.

The next week my wife and I were in the Dominican Republic.

We landed in Santo Domingo and rented a car to drive to the city of Santiago where we had an appointment with an Amber exporter.

The city of Santiago de los Caballeros was a small sleepy place, with a central park with cannons and a gazebo, just like any small town in the U.S.A.

I knew that as Americans, my wife and I would quickly be recognized as tourists. So, I felt that if we sat down on a park bench, sooner or later we would be approached by every salesman and huckster in Santiago.

So, my plan was to just sit there in the park with my wife and discretely ask some of the people where I could get some Chinita for Ricardo.

As vendors approached us, I started asking them, and they all chuckled and all said that every street vendor in town had vials of Chinita, but they didn’t have any.

By the time Katherine and I had finished doing our business, and we had gone for lunch, the whole morning had passed, so by the time we reached the main business district of Santiago, it was siesta time for all the locals.

As my wife and I walked down the main street we saw that the larger stores were now closed and all the small street vendors were lying in the shade taking their siesta.

The street vendors that had been displaying their items on the sidewalks, were now all napping in the shady doorways of the larger stores.

I was surprised, it was so quiet on the main street, so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

I noticed in one doorway there was a small chubby kid, sitting next to a blanket loaded with trinkets on top.

He wasn’t napping, he was just sitting there watching us.

What the hell, I thought, so I went over to him, and I asked him in Spanish if he had any Chinita.

At first, he looked at me like he didn’t understand what I had said, or perhaps he was just shocked, he didn’t expect an American with his wife to be asking for Chinita.

Finally, he said “Yo no tengo” (I don’t have any), so I asked him if he knew where I could buy some?

The chubby little kid couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8 years old.

He got up and walked with us out into the middle of the street.

Then, in the loudest child’s voice I ever heard, he yelled, “Los Americanos care Chinita” (The Americanos want Chinita). He was just walking down the street yelling at the top of his lungs, so now, everyone in town was looking at us.

My wife Katherine was so embarrassed I think she shrunk to half her size.

Yes, we finally found the Chinita for Ricardo, and they only wanted .50 cents for each small vial.

I bought Ricardo 4 of them.

I told the vendors it was for a friend in Miami, and they all laughed and said, sure it was.

On the plane back to Miami, I smelled and I tasted the Chinita, and I think it was just oil of cloves.

Anyway, Ricardo was happy, and I’m sure all the street vendors in Santiago are still talking about the Americano and his wife who needed the sexual aid Chinita.