Home is one’s own body. Like a snail, we always carry our home with us. Its weight, rather than forcing us to drag our bodies, makes us move closer to the earth, wherever we are.
Home...from Maruchi
anonymous
May 25 2007, 12:46:33 UTC
Thank you Jorge for your compliment about my name. My name... for seven years I had a new Americanized name enforced by my “new family” that was hard to get used to. Now that my situation has changed, it's hard to get used to being called by my real name again.
I read your post again, and I do have similar memories of boarding school. I left home when I was 10-years-old. My mother packed continually during the whole summer before I left, putting my belongings into a nice suitcase that lasted for 20 years. She made me think I was going on vacation or that the experience that I was about to embark on was going to be a wonderful adventure. Instead, I had to endure long working hours in the field, and other difficult challenges. It was not so bad, looking back. Maybe I didn't know any better, or I didn't know much about the difference between experiences that were either good or bad.
I remember that at the same time that she prepared my luggage she took me into the back yard to watch a 14 year-old neighbour who was doing laundry for the other neighbours in a very primitive way, because of course we didn’t have any fancy machines. My mother made me watch and she advised me: “This is what you are going to end up doing if you quit school now.” I guess the frogs we put up with in the bathroom at school, were better than a life of taking in washing! That day was a turning point for me: my mother taught me how to survive and how not to give up.
I went to three different schools. The worst was the second one where the field work was so hard I could never finish my share of the tasks and so I got in trouble many times, I had to stand up in front of the rest of the students with others like me who didn't finish their assignment to explain why I couldn't do it . I still remember one boy, Bolanos, giving his speech of explanation. Maybe he still remembers mine too. It was so humiliating.
When I was getting ready to go to the University, I had to select career choices in order to be told which school I would be attending. I made sure that all my first, second and third career choices, were taught at University of Havana. The reason? Transportation: it was so hard to travel from one town to the other, while traveling to Havana, the major city was easier. Just book your ticket and you were all set! Maybe this event was the one that set a precedent for me, later in life, to be considered by the powers that be as having "ideological problems". All I wanted was a fair ride.
I read your post again, and I do have similar memories of boarding school. I left home when I was 10-years-old. My mother packed continually during the whole summer before I left, putting my belongings into a nice suitcase that lasted for 20 years. She made me think I was going on vacation or that the experience that I was about to embark on was going to be a wonderful adventure. Instead, I had to endure long working hours in the field, and other difficult challenges. It was not so bad, looking back. Maybe I didn't know any better, or I didn't know much about the difference between experiences that were either good or bad.
I remember that at the same time that she prepared my luggage she took me into the back yard to watch a 14 year-old neighbour who was doing laundry for the other neighbours in a very primitive way, because of course we didn’t have any fancy machines. My mother made me watch and she advised me: “This is what you are going to end up doing if you quit school now.” I guess the frogs we put up with in the bathroom at school, were better than a life of taking in washing! That day was a turning point for me: my mother taught me how to survive and how not to give up.
I went to three different schools. The worst was the second one where the field work was so hard I could never finish my share of the tasks and so I got in trouble many times, I had to stand up in front of the rest of the students with others like me who didn't finish their assignment to explain why I couldn't do it . I still remember one boy, Bolanos, giving his speech of explanation. Maybe he still remembers mine too. It was so humiliating.
When I was getting ready to go to the University, I had to select career choices in order to be told which school I would be attending. I made sure that all my first, second and third career choices, were taught at University of Havana. The reason? Transportation: it was so hard to travel from one town to the other, while traveling to Havana, the major city was easier. Just book your ticket and you were all set! Maybe this event was the one that set a precedent for me, later in life, to be considered by the powers that be as having "ideological problems". All I wanted was a fair ride.
Looking forward to read more...
Maruchi
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