
Everything was going really well with wedding ceremony. The bride arrived on time, entered the church, the music began, the guests stood up and the bride saw the groom, nervous beside the priest near the altar. When the bride and groom met, the priest began the ceremony and after the words exulting the sacrament of matrimony, the priest asked the bridegroom, “Gildo do you accept Antonia as your rightful wife?” The groom was perplexed and in amazement replied: “What? I’m marrying Yolanda and not Antonia!”
Marriage is usually stressful for everyone, especially for the groom. Imagine then the groom realizing at the foot of the altar, by the priest, that his beloved, with whom he was marrying at that moment, had a completely different name from the name she was known to everyone, including the groom.
It happened to my uncle!
Fortunately, the marriage went ahead, they had five children and lived together for many years.
My aunt, who now you know, had two names, was always known to everyone as Yolanda, but her name was actually Antonia. Few knew that, even my uncle.
I discovered this unusual situation when I was updating my uncle’s data on this site with information that was passed on to me by another member of the family. When I went on to add the name of my uncle’s wife, the information I had was that her name was Antonia. I was suspicious. What happened to my aunt Yolanda? Did my uncle have two wives? Bigamist?
I went back to the person who gave me the information and she told me that Yolanda was actually named Antonia, but she wasn’t sure why. That’s when I turned to Yolanda’s daughter, my cousin.

According to my cousin, the couple’s eldest daughter, my aunt was registered by her mother, devout of St. Anthony, with the name of Antonia, but the father preferred the name of Yolanda and baptized the child with that name. From then on my aunt became known as Yolanda and no one else, besides the civil record, remembered that she was actually called Antonia. I wonder if this situation didn’t generate any conflict with my aunt’s parents…
This story reminded me of an old Mexican song whose theme I’m sure came to my uncle’s head when the priest asked him the question. The song “Donde Estas Yolanda? (Where are you Yolanda?)” was initially recorded by the Mexican band Sonora Santanera. Below is a nice video dancing featuring a more modern rendition of the song by the American band Pink Martini. Enjoy the rhythm and the video, and feel my uncle’s thinking at the time!
Donde Estas Yolanda?
Donde estas, donde estas, Yolanda
Que paso, que paso, Yolanda
Te busque, te busque, Yolanda
Y no estas, y no estas Yolanda
…
Tus ojos me miraron
Tus labios me besaron
Con ese fuego ardiente
Ardiente de mujer
La luz de tu mirada
El fuego de tus labios
Flecharon a mi pecho y de ti me enamore
Donde estas, donde estas, Yolanda
Que paso, que paso, Yolanda
Te busque, te busque, Yolanda
Y no estas, y no estas Yolanda
…
Me dicen que paseabas
En un carro Yolanda
Muy guapa y arrogante
Y todos te silbaban
Si un dia te encontrara
No se que puedo hacer
No se me vuelvo loco
Si ya no te vuelvo a ver
Donde estas, donde estas, Yolanda
Que paso, que paso, Yolanda
Te busque, te busque, Yolanda
Y no estas, y no estas Yolanda
…
Where Are You Yolanda?
Where you are, where you are, Yolanda.
What happened, what happened, Yolanda.
I’ve been looking for you, Yolanda.
And you’re not, you’re not Yolanda.
…
Your eyes looked at me.
Your lips kissed me.
With this fervent fire
Fervent of a woman
The light of your gaze
The fire of your lips
They shot my chest with an arrow and i fell in love with you
Where you are, where you are, Yolanda.
What happened, what happened, Yolanda.
I’ve been looking for you, Yolanda.
And you’re not, you’re not Yolanda.
…
They told me you were riding.
In a car Yolanda
Very beautiful and arrogant.
And everyone whistled at you.
If I ever find you
I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I don’t know if I’m going crazy.
If I don’t see you anymore.
Where you are, where you are, Yolanda.
What happened, what happened, Yolanda.
I’ve been looking for you, Yolanda.
And you’re not, you’re not Yolanda.
…
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