A Saudi woman, supposedly happily married to her husband for 17 years*, is filing for divorce after discovering that he invented an unwelcome nickname for her in his cell phone: Guantánamo.
Apparently the husband thought it would be a splendid repartee if, while out late nights with the boys, he could look at his ringing cell phone and declare, "Hush up, shabaab, Guantánamo is calling... Do you want Guantánamo to know where we are? If I have to go to Guantánamo now, I'll be in real trouble."
But the wife was not amused. According to her statement to police she said:
I am a truthful woman,
from the land where the palm trees grow,
and sometimes I do want to
let the verses out of my soul.
But a guantanamera? I am not a guantanamera.
My husband is a horrible man.
Here I grow a white rose, in July as in January,
and give it to him who gives me his open hand.
And this is how he repays me?!
A guantanamera? I swear I am not a guantanamera.
He pretends that he's this wounded stag seeking refuge in the mountain,
where the brook gives him more pleasure than the sea.
But do you know the last time he pleasured me?
Let's just say that my verse is not exactly flaming red lately.
Guantanamera? I'm no f*cking guantanamera.**
* From the Tuque Souq math department: 30-year-old woman minus 17 years of marriage equals: Hombre, you married a 13-year-old and you have the gall to call her names?!
** Guantanamera, of the famous poem/song by José Martí, is spanish for "Woman from Guantánamo." Full English translation here.