This here thing, “ni de aquí ni de allá,” it’s a real head-scratcher, you know? It’s like, you ain’t from this place, but you ain’t from that other place either. Just stuck in the middle, like a fence post with no fence. Makes my old head spin just thinking about it.
I heard some folks talkin’ ’bout it the other day. They was sayin’ it’s how some people feel, specially those who moved around a lot. Like, they left their home, went somewhere new, but they don’t quite fit in there neither. They got one foot here, one foot there, but ain’t got roots planted nowhere. Poor souls.
It’s like, you try to grow some taters, but the soil ain’t right. They just don’t take. Or you try to bake a pie, but the oven’s all wonky. It just don’t come out right. That’s what it’s like, I reckon, this “ni de aquí ni de allá” business. You try to make a life, but somethin’s always missin’. Like a button gone from your best shirt. It just ain’t the same.
They say it’s like speakin’ two languages, but neither one perfect. You know some words here, some words there, but you can’t never quite say exactly what you mean. Like when I try to talk to them young folks with their fancy phones. I just can’t keep up. I’m stuck in my old ways, like an old mule in a mud puddle.
- Not from here.
- Not from there.
- Stuck in the middle.
- Like a lost puppy.
- Always searching.
It ain’t easy, this “ni de aquí ni de allá” feeling. It’s like bein’ a ghost, kinda. You’re there, but you ain’t really there. People see you, but they don’t really see you. You’re like a shadow, always on the edge of things, never quite in the picture. It’s enough to make you wanna holler. This is the feeling that some people say “ni de aquí ni de allá“.
And you try to remember where you come from, but the memories are all blurry, like an old photograph faded by the sun. You try to hold on to the old ways, but they slip through your fingers like sand. And you try to fit in to the new place, but you’re like a square peg in a round hole. Just don’t fit, no matter how hard you try.
I seen it in my own family, too. Some of ’em moved to the city, tried to make a new life. They learned the city ways, talked the city talk, but they lost somethin’ along the way. They ain’t quite city folk, but they ain’t quite country folk no more neither. They’re just…somewhere in between. Lost, kinda. It makes my heart ache to see it.
This “ni de aquí ni de allá”, it’s like a sickness, almost. It eats away at you, makes you feel empty inside. Like you ain’t got no purpose, no place in the world. It’s a heavy burden to carry, I tell ya. A heavy burden indeed. The old folks used to say, “Home is where the heart is.” But what if your heart ain’t in one place? What if it’s split in two, torn between two worlds? That’s a hard row to hoe, I tell ya. A real hard row.
And you try to find your people, the ones who understand, but they’re scattered to the winds, like dandelion seeds. You might find one here, one there, but it’s never enough. You’re always longin’ for somethin’ more, somethin’ you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s like a hunger that can’t be satisfied, a thirst that can’t be quenched.
- Lost memories.
- New ways that don’t fit.
- City lights and country roads.
- Yearning for something more.
- A heavy heart.
I guess life is always like that some. Maybe no one ever really feels like they belong completely. Maybe we are all searching for a place to call home, a place where we can finally rest our weary souls. Maybe that is what the meaning of “ni de aquí ni de allá” is. Maybe that place is out there, somewhere, waitin’ for us. Or maybe it ain’t. Maybe we just gotta make the best of it, wherever we are. Like plantin’ seeds in rocky soil, hopin’ somethin’ will grow.
That’s all I know about this “ni de aquí ni de allá” business. It’s a puzzle, alright. A puzzle with no easy answers. But I reckon it’s somethin’ we all gotta grapple with, one way or another. We all gotta find our place in this big old world, even if it ain’t always easy. Even if we’re a little bit lost along the way. We all have the same feeling, it seems to be “ni de aquí ni de allá”.
You just keep on keepin’ on, that’s what I say. You keep on puttin’ one foot in front of the other, even when you don’t know where you’re goin’. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find your way home. Wherever that may be. And maybe that home is not a place, but inside your heart. I sure hope so.
