The Other Planet

We are slowly moving towards the end of the 1960s and in the USA Lyndon B. Johnson is 36th President of the United States of America. Richard Nixon's time in office is still to come and the Vietnam War which will mark a large part of both presidents’ legacy, is already making headlines in the World's press. On our Island, Mama, Papa and I are oblivious to all this; we have more important matters on our minds as we prepare for a visit to La Peninsula, mainland Spain. Papa is not from our Island, but from The Other Planet as I call this unknown territory, and Mama say that we will be going there to visit Papa's own Mama and Papa as well as other members of the Garrido family. Mama and I have never left our Island and this will be our first journey to a New World to meet people that are called family but that we have never known. We are just three; Mama, Papa and myself, for Sis has yet to be born

To reach our destination we take a ferry boat from our Island home off the Western coast of Africa on a journey that will take days. We are poor so Papa buys the cheapest passages on the vessel and we sleep in the innards of the ship, spending a large part of the stormy journey holding our bellies and retching. When there is no storm we venture from our cabin to the restaurant, and once there Papa lifts me onto a table where I enthusiastically stamp my feet and clap my hands doing my very best to dance the Flamenco that Papa has taught me back on my Island. I am one of few children on this journey and the only one dancing on tables to a captivated audience of fellow passengers which includes many young Spanish soldiers returning home from military service in Spain's far-flung territories; the Canary Islands where we are from, as well as from the region of Spanish Sahara sandwiched between Morocco and Mauritania. All young men, they are brimming with joy at soon being reunited with their families on the Spanish mainland, and share their stories with one other and with Mama and Papa as la muñeca, the doll, as I am known, gaily dances for them. Eventually we arrive at the port town of Cadiz by the Strait of Gibralter where just fourteen kilometres separate Europe from the vast continent of Africa. I have no recollection of how we travel onwards from Cadiz but we do, and eventually arrive at a place called Moron de la Frontera where Papa's Andalusian family keenly await our arrival. 

Moron de la Frontera is a much larger town than anything I have ever seen on my Island and surrounded by olive groves as far as the eye can see. The first known mention of the city was made by the ancient Greek Geographer, Strabo, referring to it as Almourol. Later, with the Roman conquest of the Iberian Peninsula, the Romans called the city Maurorum, which was a reference to the large population from North Africa. During the Moorish rule of the Iberian Peninsula the Latin term evolved into Mawror, and finally Moron. The phrase "de la Frontera" or "Of the Border" refers to the border with Granada, because it was a border town between Fernando III’s 1240 Christian conquest of Iberia until the fall of the kingdom of Granada in the late fifteenth century. The ruins of a large castle on the outskirts of the town, attest to this glorious past. The Moron del la Frontera that we arrive in also has an enormous NATO Military base within its confines and we pass some of the American military staff from this base as we arrive in the town. This strategically important military base, located at the Southern most tip of Spain and close to the nearby imposing African continent, provides Franco's Spain with much needed hard currency, American dollars.

The mainland Spain that we arrive in, is the same pious Catholic country that we have left behind on our Island home, and similarly ruled over by General Francisco Franco since the end of the Spanish Civil war soon thirty years ago. Yet, life here seems like on Another Planet and our Island lifestyle seems idyllic by comparison; we have the warm Atlantic waters on our doorstep, we speak the informal and more relaxed Spanish of South America, and most importantly, Mama and her family have not lived through the unspeakable hardships of the Civil War that decimates Spain between the years of 1936-1939. Unlike Papa, Mama has never known the hunger and deprivation of the post-war years, nor the darkness borne from this suffering, and it will be many years before we learn of this. For now, this painful past remains secreted within the Other Planet, and today is a day of rejoicing as Papa arrives in Moron del la Frontera to introduce his new Wife and Daughter from faraway lands to the Andalusian Garrido Alvarez family.

It’s hot and dusty here, there is not a beach nor sea breeze anywhere in sight and already I miss my Island home with its balmy sea breeze and the warm Atlantic waters on my doorstep. But I do not have long to contemplate my loss, for grown-ups that I have never met scoop me up in their arms, speaking a strange language that Mama tells me is Spanish but that I don’t really understand, and cover me with kisses. Once again I am officially la muñeca, the doll. I see that grown-ups here have the same mahogany-coloured eyes that Papa has, the same dark eyes that he shares with me, and I feel at once a sense of belonging. We meet Papa's Mama, Abuela or Grandma Maria, a tiny little hunched woman who still cooks with coal and dresses in black from head to toe. Grandma Maria is still in mourning for her own Mother, Remedios, who died many years ago when Papa was a young boy, yet she still feels the pain as if it were yesterday. 

She dries her wrinkled hands on her apron, envelopes me in her warm arms and amidst profuse sobs covers me with kisses. We have only just arrived, but she is grief-stricken that our stay is only temporary, and is already counting the days until we leave again back for our Island. But Grandma Maria soon dries her tears. She need to, because now she is examining Mama, her new daughter-in-law, from head to toe in detail and with tears in your eyes it’s a difficult thing to do. She takes one look at Mama’s short dress and tells Papa, 'How can you allow your wife to leave the house in such a short dress? It’s disgraceful'. Mama is wearing her best mini dress and I can tell that she is irritated by what Grandma Maria has said. Papa is very quiet and so should be when caught between the two most powerful women in his life; one his mother and the other his wife. Papa tells me that I am named after Grandma Maria and I can tell from the way he talks about her, that he loves his Mama very much.

Then we meet Papa's own Papa, Abuelo or Grandpa Eduardo. He is a small hunched man who reeks of alcohol and Papa tells Mama that his Papa likes the drink a bit too much. The Garrido family was once respected and affluent, but Grandpa drank away all his inheritance money and this is the reason they are in the situation they find themselves in today. Papa says this with no hint of bitterness, but I can sense that he does not love his Papa as I do mine, and I begin to understand why he wants to live on our Island and not on This Other Planet. After she has finished talking with Papa, Grandma Maria takes another long look at me, sofly utters the name Mercedes and gently weeps into her black apron, once more overcome with The Sorrow. I ask Papa who is this Mercedes that is making Grandma Maria so sad, and he falls unusually silent before answering me. Mercedes was his beloved sister who is no longer here. Why is she not here to meet us, I ask him. Because she went to a special place called Heaven when she was a little girl, Papa tells me. Can I go there to say ‘Hello’, I innocently ask. I am suddenly scooped up in an almost crushing embrace as Papa tells me firmly, ‘Never, I will protect you with all my heart and soul to make sure that nothing ever happens to you!' The name Mercedes is never again mentioned in my presence for the remainder of our visit, but I have understood that she is a special person for Papa, and that he loves her as much as he loves me and his own Mama. We have already made the long journey from our Island home to this strange new place,The Other Planet, so Heaven must indeed be a very far-away place if I cannot go there with Papa to meet Mercedes and say 'Hello'.

To be continued...

Next post 19th February: Meet The Family


Note: All written content is the intellectual property of this Author. Image material is drawn largely from Pixabay with some small additions from private family archives.