Our Name
Naming of our project was not easy, no matter how many monikers we threw at one another nothing seemed to stick. Enter a small package of palo santo, an Andean wood used as incense, buried deep in Pablo’s drawers. Along with it came a picture of a sweet-faced man dressed in white robes and instructions for its use. The palo santo, it claimed, could be used to mitigate woes of the heart, health, and finances. One only had to light it on Tuesdays and Fridays and a say a prayer. While neither Pablo nor I are religious, I took to setting fire to the small stick and making a simple wish on the specified days.
As for the lovely brown face: it belonged to San Martin de Porres (December 9, 1579-November 3, 1639). Born to a woman of African descent and a Spaniard who’d soon abandon the mother and children he fathered with her, Martin’s early years were lived within the rigid confines of the Peruvian caste system and marked by extreme poverty. As a teenager he apprenticed as a barber. Later, when allowed into the Dominican Order, his deep empathy for his fellow humans and animals, alike, distinguished him from others. It was not long before tales of his kindness and miracles spread throughout Lima.
I enjoyed his life story so much I suggested to Pablo we name our dinner series after him—a Peruvian whose patronage includes poor people, hairstylists, innkeepers (it had long been my dream to own a bed and breakfast), mixed-raced people, black people, television, and those seeking interracial harmony, how could we not?
