Saturday 17 September 2016

Thoughts in Progress

Distance does not just create space between one and a certain object but also offers a new perspective on situations that get muddled up when looked at too close. We think of holidays as “time off”, but for some of us, mainly immigrants, going home from “home”, means sometimes an unconscious search for answers hitherto elusive, i.e., “time on”.
The view from Havana is different

I recently went back to Cuba for a fortnight. I had not been for three years and therefore I had missed out on all the “changes”. Whilst I have a lot to write about my visit, this post will not necessarily deal with the transformations my country has gone through (or subjected to, rather). I am still digesting many of the permutations to which I bore witness. This outing today is about the immigrant’s eternal conundrum: belongingness.

There comes a time when “going home” becomes “leaving home for home and returning home after”, a tautology in and of itself, but an important one. This acquires more urgency when both “homes” have undergone radical changes. Explanations are sought and theories thought up. The latter are concocted on the hoof as the former are blurted out. You ask people and they quiz you in return. Both parties look for ready-made answers but none are forthcoming, only half-baked, spontaneous responses.

I thought I had left Brexit and Cameron’s crew behind at Gatwick, only to find that I had been appointed the (unofficial) “dabster” by relatives and friends to throw some light on recent events on these isles. That, I did not mind. What surprised me was what came out of my mouth. My feelings for my adopted land had strengthened to a level I did not know until then.

The poet (poetess? Can I still say that?) Agnes Krampe writes in her poem “Perhaps the Hardest Part of Emigration” that “The rhythm of the language was not pulsing/Deep in my body. Shapeless, without pattern/the words limped on the page, where I once could/Compose in dancing meter graceful rhyme.” The language she refers to is that of the new country. I can relate to that lack of rhythm, not from a linguistic perspective, but from a cultural one. I already spoke English fluently when I arrived in London but I did not “speak” the culture. Britain defied my expectations. Whereas I, too, could once “compose in dancing meter graceful rhyme” in Cuba, over here I felt somewhat stunted at the beginning.

Not anymore. When talking about Brexit, Theresa May’s rise or the squabbles in the Labour Party a few weeks ago in my hometown, there was often a note of optimism in my voice. I know that this might come as a surprise to some of you, my fellow bloggers and readers, given that my previous post was pretty depressing. Nevertheless, distance affords one the privilege of looking at one’s adopted home through a fresh pair of prescription glasses. Mind you, to confuse my optimism with idealism would be fatal. My optimism was reality-based. Still, there I was, explaining that the recent wave of anti-immigrant, racist attacks were carried out by a minority. That London, the city I have called "home" for almost twenty years, voted to stay in the European Union. That we have a Muslim mayor. That Labour's in-fighting should be seen in the context of two factions locking horns (not at the best of times, fair to say). That... That... That... 

I have a theory about this attitude. It is almost as if some of us, immigrants, become protective of our adopted land. We know its flaws and virtues, but woe betide anyone who dares to slander it, for they shall be subjected to a tongue-lashing delivered in heavily Cuban-accented English (or similar). I have often laid into Nigel Farage and his band of bigots and fascists. Yet, when questioned about his lethal influence on British politics, my answer was usually along the lines of: “That’s different opinions for you. Without them, democracy would probably die a little bit every day. It is a risk, but it is a risk I am willing to take any time.” Surprised? I was indeed.

The life of an immigrant upon arrival in their new land can seem sometimes like a flimsy piece of paper blown away by the wind. We are led, if you like: by work, domestic life, every day demands. Whether it is lucubration or diurnal graft, moments of Wildean idleness and contemplation are few and far between. Eventually, though, the first associations appear: we make up our own story as we go along, our experience becomes a background against which we analyse our presence in our adopted land, we even come up with our own soundtrack. One that might not match the type of music we usually like.

Some other times we find a wall in our path (of Trumpian proportions) which we have to surmount: break through or jump over it. Either way, there is a transformation in you and in the wall. But only you, as the thinking being can make sense of this encounter (collision?) and its aftermath.

I am Cuban, will always be, never want to stop being Cuban. I am also British. Not just as a mere passport-holder, but as a person for whom “the rhythm of the language” is pulsing now (for language, think “culture”). Someone who can also “Compose in dancing meter graceful rhyme.” Distance does that to you. That is why whenever I touch down in London, I say nowadays: “I’m back home from home”.



© 2016

Next Post: “Pieces of Me, Pieces of Havana”, to be published on Wednesday 21st September at 6pm (GMT)

21 comments:

  1. I'll look forward to learning more about your impressions on Cuba today. We can never deny our past, it's always a part of us.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sometimes that wall needs to be broken through indeed. That soundtrack is always there being created with each of life's experiences

    ReplyDelete
  3. I agree with sage in that we can never deny our past.

    ReplyDelete
  4. What a thoughtful write. I like the way you describe coming home from home.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Very interesting. I've never given serious thought to the issue of being an immigrant and I will now bwenefit from thinking about it more deeply.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Home indeed. And, like family, you can see its flaws, and will defend it just the same. A lovely post. Welcome back.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Como emigrante que soy creo que nunca se sabe cual es la verdadera casa, con lo cual hay que ir saliendo y entrando en ella y recoger lo que se nos da de bueno.
    Un abrazo

    ReplyDelete
  8. I quite frequently wonder what it would have been like to have been one of my ancestors during the first few years after their "transplant" from Europe to the United States. They spoke no English and, in the 1850s, they certainly knew they never again would see those they left behind.

    Being a nomad of sorts (mostly within the U.S.) and someone who considers himself more of a transient observer of life and lifestyles than a permanent resident of anywhere, our experiences are quite different, CiL.

    In any case, I am glad you have returned safe and sound and I will look forward to reading about your journey home from home .... and vice versa. By the way, was Thomas Wolfe correct ??

    ReplyDelete
  9. As someone with dual citizenship - British and Swedish - your statement about “leaving home for home and returning home after” rings so true! It always feels strange to say I'm going home, no matter whether I'm travelling to or from England or Sweden!

    ReplyDelete
  10. Hi ACIL - I'm glad you had a happy visit - experiencing much. Fascinating thoughts you've given us here ... and I too look forward to more views on this country as we adapt to our new order ... it will take some years - I voted to stay ... but I hope 'everyone' will want the best for the Union countries, and for Europe - so that the situation can be improved.

    When I lived in South Africa home was here ... yet I hanker at times for Africa ... however being British I love the history associated with this country and the way we've been able to toggle and puzzle pieces of our history to give us some sense of time etc ... be it people, or be it earth time ...

    I do look forward to more of your thought provoking ideas ... welcome home and cheers Hilary

    ReplyDelete
  11. Sometimes it does us good to hear the view of others, it puts new perspective on our thinking. Thank you for this excellent post.

    ReplyDelete
  12. It's good to hear you say you feel at home here. My neighbour is Swedish, in her 70s, widowed (she married a Brit) and is feeling hassled into thinking about leaving - though this has been her home for over thirty years.

    ReplyDelete
  13. I'm glad you enjoyed your visit. Glad that you feel at home here. It's interesting to read your ideas about being an immigrant. I think the whole idea of being protective of your adopted country is (oddly and sadly) something that a lot of English people feel they have to show about Scotland (particularly since the independence referendum). I say oddly and sadly there of course because we are still one country.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Fabulous post. I think you really capture the essence of the ex-pat's dual identity issues. You really are "back home from home."

    ReplyDelete
  15. Welcome back to the blogosphere. I hope you enjoyed your break. It certainly sounds like you enjoyed your trip back home to Cuba. I appreciate hearing what it feels like to be an emigrant from your perspective. Very well-expressed! My father and his family came to the U.S. from Scotland in the early 1920s. My grandmother never visited Scotland again, but part of her heart was always there.

    ReplyDelete
  16. “I’m back home from home”. Nicely said.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Welcome back home from your other home! You are more than fluently multilingual, you are a crafter of words. It's nice to see you back to blogging and I look forward to hearing more about Cuba. However, the real world offline may require all my attention in the coming weeks. I'm rushing to finish revisions on a manuscript before a big journey of my own.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Very interesting realizations, Cubano. Distance and time do indeed do a number on our perspective. Do you consider yourself Cuban-British? Did your countrymen treat you like an outsider or was it how you felt?

    ReplyDelete
  19. Hey Cubano, a very interesting post, and I do feel like I understand your feelings (in part because you expressed them so articulately.) I fear that Trump would be worse than brexit, however, given that he would have his finger on the button of a nuclear arsenal! Agh. Take care, and thanks. k.

    ReplyDelete
  20. Interesting and inspiring post. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!

    ReplyDelete

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...