bisa

This is our neighbor, Bisa.

I don’t know what her real name is, but everyone calls her Bisa, which means Great-Grandma.

At first I thought she was related to most of the kids in the condominium, and it turns out she is related to several. (Though I haven’t yet unraveled all the relationships of all the people who flow in and out of the different houses.)

Then I heard Dete telling the baby, as she carried him inside, “Say hi to your Bisa, Ju Ju.”

Bisa lives with another old woman whom everyone calls Vovó (Grandma), although they both appear equally ancient.

I think of them as the gallery, kind of like the two grumpy old men in the balcony on the Muppet Show.

They’re always sitting on the porch, offering a commentary on whatever’s going on. When R. comes in screaming, pulling on my leg, they nod wisely, and say, ciumes. He’s jealous.

The baby’s drooling, Bisa likes to point out. Teeth are coming. Any day now.

And they both like to remind me about the time when R. got their laundry all wet playing with water in back of our house.

Earlier this week, Dan discovered R. sneaking up to Bisa and smacking her on the shin.

Why, R.? Why?

Who knows?

Mortified, Dan apologized to the old lady, and made R. apologize.

Bisa muttered something in her toothless Portuguese, and went back to her newspaper. But now she has something else to add to her litany of grievances.