Mamajuana

No, not marijuana, mamajuana.  It all started with my cell phone.  The charger was lost.  Nowhere to be found.  Maybe the rats took it.  The cell phone stores I went to sold phones, plans, but no chargers.  Shoot.  Ahhh, but I live in Santo Domingo, where every possible (used) gadget can be located on the street.  I headed to a guy who I had seen selling various chargers.  We tested the used charger in a nearby outlet and he assured me all was fine.  

I happily returned home to charge my phone.  Ready to head out the door again, I grabbed my phone and it said, “Phone cannot accept charge.”  What?!?!  Why hadn’t I checked more closely before I purchased my used charger.  I just saw the phone light up when he plugged it in and trusted him.  Mistake.

I hunted down the street vender.  We argued.  He said he couldn’t return my money, but he could trade my bum charger for another ... charger?  The man sold chargers, blackberry covers, and roach bait.  I wasn’t in the market.  

Finally, he brought me to his friend’s table where I could choose from various herbs.  I decided against the lifetime supply of oregano and went the more adventurous route to purchase a bottle of mamajuana.  I’d seen it being sold on the streets for months and my curiosity got the best of me.   The vender assured me it wasn’t marijuana, but I couldn’t discern its intended use.  (Though in hindsight, the fact that it was sold in a dirty old rum bottle should’ve tipped me off.)

I proudly showed Joselyn my new mamajuana acquisition and asked her what I was supposed to do with it.  Apparently it’s a mixture of cinnamon, vanilla and other herbs which are used to flavor rum.  It’s the favorite drink of drunks and the Dominican cure-all for various ailments.  Oh.  I don’t really drink rum, but I figured I might as well give it a try.  So I bought my first bottle of Dominican rum and poured it over my mamajuana.  I haven’t had the courage to try it yet, but I feel decidedly more Dominican with it sitting on my counter.