Identity and Genetics: De Nord a Sud
I gave birth
to a Cajun.
Like many of life's greatest blessings, it wasn't planned.
It just happened.
Before meeting my husband, I hadn't given much thought to the
word Cajun.
My heritage is primarily German and Polish.
We danced Polkas and Hokey-Pokeys at family parties
and ate sauer kraut, brat wurst and jello where I was raised in
Chicago.
But love changed that for me.
In 1986 my husband and I relocated from Nashville, Tennessee, to the rural Cajun town of Pierre Part where my husband was raised. I was welcomed with open arms and what seemed to be rhetorical questions, which I later came to understand as English with a Cajun French twist.
"You're
Tony's wife?"
Yes, I would answer.
"That's Miss Roberta's son?"
Yes, he is.
"Well, Miss Roberta's my brother's wife's nanny!"
Really? I marveled at the idea that my business-minded mother-in-law
was a professional baby-sitter. This was before I knew that a
nanny is a Godmother in Cajun-speak.
"Roberta's my mama's third cousin."
Trying to keep up with the geneology lesson, I would ask, "And
who's your mama?"
"LulaMae Blanchard. But she was a Breaux. Her daddy, Cha-Chank,
and Miss Roberta's daddy, R.P., were first cousins."
"And who's your sister-in-law," I asked?
"Vianna Bolotte. Her mama and Miss Roberta are second cousins.
Vianna's mama is Miss Barbara Boudreaux."
I could feel my eyes starting to spin.
"Oooohhh, wow. Thanks!," I would answer, amazed that
all of the last names started with B.
My Cajun baby
arrived in January.
I could tell as soon as I heard her that she inherited the French
blood.
It was hard to understand her language at 3am.
Granted, I could barely understand English at that time of the
morning, and it didn't sound anything like my 10th grade Spanish.
I deduced that she must be crying in French and that I, too, must
learn the language.
"Chére,
bébé! Look at them cheeks," the ladies would
say to us in the grocery store.
"Ça c'est une Daigle," they would add.
Yes, she's a Daigle, I would reply, hoping that I correctly understood
the statement.
"Them Daigle's all look alike," they continued.
Really?
"Mais, yeah. She looks just like her pawpaw's sister, Lucie.
That's my husband's first cousin.
My husband's mama, Tante Sue, and Lucie's daddy, Mr. Cyril, were
brother and sister. Lucie has that Daigle nose and mouth, just
like her daddy did. Chére! This bébé looks
just like them Daigles."
And so it was
that the geneology lesson turned to genetics.
"Et regardez ses yeaux. So blue. Just like her maw-maw."
Having learned a few French words,
I agreed the baby had inherited her Cajun French looks from her
father's side of the family.
I kept claim to her brain, which I knew already was very smart.
I was proud of my newest identity as Erin's mom.
By Erin's first
birthday, she was equally responsive to questions that our Cajun
friends would pose to her in French or English.
"Ou est ta nez?" would prompt Erin to touch her nose.
"Ou est ta bouche?" would bring on her big smile.
Marveling at
my baby's comprehension of French,
I vowed to become a more dedicated student of the language.
When we moved to Lafayette a few years later, I became an advocate
for French Immersion education and enrolled my child in the pioneer
class of Kindergarten immersion students.
Somewhere along the way I think I was born-again Cajun, me.
Marrying into the Daigle family led me to numerous family reunions over the years, including the grandest of Acadian heritage reunions, the Congrés Mondial. As the 1999 Congrés Mondial de Louisiane drew near, the opportunity presented itself to link the geneology and the genetics of health and family. Through personal interest I became involved in the planning committee for the Daigle Reunion that occurred during the Congrés. To fill time at the reunion, we conducted arts activities including Cajun music "audience participation" and creation of a huge Daigle Family Tree with colorful hand prints, signatures and birthdates of many reunion attendees. You could tell the Daigle descendents. They all had that nose.
This personal interest also extended into my workplace. As Executive Director of the Southwest Louisiana Area Health Education Center (AHEC), I served on the planning committee for the Genetics Symposium held at McNeese State University during the 1999 Congrés event. Judging from the excellent attendance and feedback, the Symposium was successful in bringing together people of Acadian ancestry with geneticists to discuss linkages in family health conditions. From the "Genetics 101" general session, to the heartwarming personal story of a young boy challenged by a genetic disorder, the event was brimming with opportunities for learning and sharing. Since that first Symposium, our AHEC colleagues have continued to introduce others throughout the state to the LSU Center for Acadian Genetics.
As my Cajun baby now approaches adulthood, I am increasingly aware of how genetics may impact her future. Heart disease, stroke, cancer, lupus, hearing loss and nearsightedness are among the health problems faced by Erin's grandparents and great-grandparents. Our quest for understanding heredity reminds us to balance the "joie de vivre" with healthy habits. Although we are surrounded daily by the tasty temptations of Louisiana's rich cuisine, we somehow manage to commit ourselves to consuming at least a few nutritious, natural foods in our diet to balance our love of those salty, local delicacies. We actually exercise on occasion, including some rigorous 2-stepping of course, in hopes of deterring the onset of health conditions which may or may not be genetic.
From north to south, the journey to Cajun-land has provided wondrous learning experiences for me. What little I know now about genetics, like Cajun identities, gives me cause to laugh and cause to pray. And in this science, as in life, I'm offered constant reasons to be truly thankful.