Panocha. Probably the most obscene slang word in the Spanish language is panocha. Oh, but it's only a loaf of bread, some may say, but this word means more than bread. This word is used loosely as an obscenity. Panocha means vagina. But it isn't a clinical term. Imagine, if you will, the most vulgar word that one can use for the female genitalia. That's panocha.
My sister, Rosa, has always had a rough life. She was the oldest, so she was my parents test drive in parenting. To say the least, it was a disaster. Rosa is the family's road kill. It shouldn't have been that way. She was the most precious child one could imagine. She had fair skin, thin lips, and beautiful curls. She was an angel with a smile that illuminated the room. By every expectation, Rosa should have been the chosen one, but fate drew her an unlucky set of cards.
Rosa had to live by my mother's expectations, which were never attainable. She had to live by some twisted set of rules, which were changed constantly. One of the rules was that she had to work as soon as she was old enough to do so, and she had to give my mother all of her earnings. Never mind, that my father gave her all of his earnings and they were spent on bingo and friends. So, Rosa had to work after school and weekends through a vocational program called DECA. She got a job at Luby's Cafeteria, every Texans favorite restaurant next to Dairy Queen. At least, every Texan over 65.
Rosa, the girl from the barrio who gave Olga, the neighbor a broken nose in our front yard, while thirty bare footed kids cheered; Rosa who would later draw a knife against our mother in self-defense; Rosa who would marry at seventeen to leave hell, worked at Luby's. Despite her survival skills, Rosa was very timid. She didn't know what it was like to eat at restaurants or how to compose herself around White people. She grew to be a beautiful young woman who was dictated to by her mother. She was frightened, but she had responsibilities. Not only did she have to give her mother her earnings, but she had to buy her siblings school clothes so that they could look good at school, so they could excel, as she bused tables at Luby's Cafeteris; as she wiped tables at Luby's Cafeteria; as she prompted the aged forward in the serving line only to get elbowed by them; as she had to wait tables for boisterous college boys.
One day, Rosa was waiting tables. In her section sat a group of boisterous college students, all male, and unbeknownst to Rosa, they had a plan. Rosa went by with the tea cart, offerring refills. "Tea, Sir," she offerred.
"No, thank you," answered the group, almost simaltaneously.
"Can I get you anything else?" she asked unknowingly.
"No, thank you," they replied in murmers, so she started to leave.
As she left, one of the White college boys called her back, "Oh, miss, I do need something....do you have any...Panocha...Pie?"
Rosa stood quietly, very confused, but mostly shocked. "Well, let me see, Sir, " she replied, and headed for the kitchen.
She approached the first person she confronted, Elma, the veteran of twenty years, and told her tale. "No, mija, tell Mr. Sutton." Mr. Sutton was a life-long Luby's employee from the North. He wasn't a local White man, so his perceptions were different than the local ones. He took care of his employees, instead of belittling them as was the norm for the time. Although he wasn't a local, he had been here long enough to know the lingo. "Come with me," he said as she scampered quickly behind him.
"Excuse me, but I understand that someone was requesting some Panocha Pie," Mr. Sutton asked. The group denied the accusation, but they were quickly escorted out of the restaurant after Mr. Sutton made sure they paid the bill.
There would be no Panocha Pie that day