Yáll C´mon Ovah, We´ll Kill a Kashlan

Cultural differences, sometimes of significant magnitude, continue to amaze us as we mature into old age.

It took some four years but finally my wife was able to have ingratiated herself to her Chamula friends working the Andador in San Cristóbal de Las Casas to the point that she and(by default) The Dawg, were invited to their home to consume a chicken dinner in surroundings best described as rudimentary but also as welcoming and representing the best of ancient human social intercourse. To be a foreigner, or as described by so many uninformed foreigners; a "gringo" invited into a Chamula home was, and let´s not overblow this, something of a social achievement yet to have been invited to partake of dinner after having slaughtered a "kashlan" was a bit disconcerting since the word "kashlan" in Chiapas and environs refers to what I will define as "outsiders". Actually, Dawg is of the opinion that "Kashlan" is a derivative of the archaic word to describe the then (when the word came into vogue four centuries ago) only known foreigners, "Castillians" or something like that so now that Dawg has conveniently disposed of any other theories that might apply to this racist appellation, I invite alternative notions as to what is meant by the clearly pejorative expression "Kashlan" which is a high insult in the Chiapas Highlands but likely unknown amongst you Michoacanos spending your days pandering to Purépecha opportuntists seeking revenge for ancient land confuscations.

When my wife heard her indigenous friend tell her that, in the honor of her visit, she would kill a "kashlan", she was (at least superficially and with some amusement) taken aback but when told that "kashlan" referred not only to white interlopers but to chickens, she was satisfied and ordered a drumstick. Things worked out well for all.

Better you than me, Dawg. After the first visit I would likely be the next kashlan they'd be wanting to kill. I am a poor social mixer, have no idea about proper people protocoll, and even make a lousy gringo. My entire career was spent on travel status or remote duty assignments for a reason.

Never was good at being around people and having a language barrier gives me an excuse for being aloof. Playing gracious guest was always a bit beyond my acting abilities.

Peter wrote:

Better you than me, Dawg. After the first visit I would likely be the next kashlan they'd be wanting to kill. I am a poor social mixer, have no idea about proper people protocoll, and even make a lousy gringo. My entire career was spent on travel status or remote duty assignments for a reason.Never was good at being around people and having a language barrier gives me an excuse for being aloof. Playing gracious guest was always a bit beyond my acting abilities.

That Dawg understands, Peter. In the 1960s, I was able to land a job in Los Angeles which was a dream of mine in my youth and immediately moved to Santa Monica to frolic on the beach with all those stewardesses reputed to live there working out of LAX but my boss and I didn´t hit it off so I spent (or misspent) my early 20s semi-permanently assigned to that federal agency´s subregion in California´s redneck central valley. I never got to know Santa Monica that well but am an expert on every aspect of life from Bakersfield to Fresno to Yreka. Life´s too short to live in those environs so I quit that job to get out of there.