- Published on
(L) Abuelo and Abuela in Manila (R) My mum, with her siblings and cousins, aboard the Iberia, bound for Australia
The notion of writing down all that I knew about my family had been in my mind since coming to Australia... I did so with a particular audience in mind: my grand-daughters...
We are all part of a broad mosaic of many Spanish families that, since the Pacific War, have left the Philippines and today are now Canadian residents, or American, or Venezuelan, Argentinian, Chilean, the list is endless...
The couple that leaned against the ships's railings that chilly, drizzly April morning in 1963 as the "Iberia" sailed into Sydney Harbour, were thinking of their offspring when they set forth on their great migratory adventure. We believed then, and are more confident of it now, that generations yet unborn, our descendants, will join our children and grandchildren in thinking kindly of us for having put an end to the global wanderings of my branch of the family and settled in this blessed land, Australia."
Excerpt from My Family by Luis R. Esteban,
my wonderful Abuelo
my wonderful Abuelo
Forty-eight years ago you sailed into Sydney and leaned against the railing of the ship
Thinking of children who weren’t even born yet
All the children with you would one day be grown-ups and married with children of their own
Could you have imagined me, your granddaughter, named after you
Who when she went to Spain for the first time felt strangely at home
Despite the language barrier
Who longed her whole life to be European, to speak Spanish, who thrilled and delighted at finally getting a Spanish passport
How would you feel knowing your nieta is not an out and proud Australian
That I cringe at our accents and our inability to speak more than one language
That I find Australian culture frustrating
That I can’t stand that our national day of pride is a day commemorating a bloody battle thousands of miles away
That I cannot connect with Australian history because it is so contested
A few months ago I sailed into Sydney myself
I got up at 5am to watch the lights of Sydney Harbour come into view
And I thought of you leaning against the railing of the Iberia
Could you have imagined as you sailed past Nielsen Park or Point Piper or Taronga Zoo that these would be the sites of my childhood?
Strange to think that the Opera House wasn’t even finished yet
Could you have imagined me singing in the Opera House?! Or having my year 10 formal at the Zoo overlooking the giraffes looking out to the Harbour?
Could you have imagined that I would grow up among the eucalyptus and the smell of the Australian bush
And yet never feel at home in it
To feel frustrated every time someone asks “but don’t you feel so lucky?”
In two months, I’m leaving this place
To go to the land where your brothers live
And then to London to seek my own life and put down my own roots
Where I will be in forty-eight years time?
And what stories will have played out between my arrival at Heathrow and sitting down to reflect on it all?
Abuelo, forty-eight years ago you sailed to Sydney
To a land that for you was entirely sight unseen
No internet to do your research
No crystal ball to let you know that it was all going to be ok, that you were making the right decision
Our wanderings are not over yet
We are still shifting in time and space
But wherever we go, there we are
And we have our stories and our ancestors to guide the way
Thinking of children who weren’t even born yet
All the children with you would one day be grown-ups and married with children of their own
Could you have imagined me, your granddaughter, named after you
Who when she went to Spain for the first time felt strangely at home
Despite the language barrier
Who longed her whole life to be European, to speak Spanish, who thrilled and delighted at finally getting a Spanish passport
How would you feel knowing your nieta is not an out and proud Australian
That I cringe at our accents and our inability to speak more than one language
That I find Australian culture frustrating
That I can’t stand that our national day of pride is a day commemorating a bloody battle thousands of miles away
That I cannot connect with Australian history because it is so contested
A few months ago I sailed into Sydney myself
I got up at 5am to watch the lights of Sydney Harbour come into view
And I thought of you leaning against the railing of the Iberia
Could you have imagined as you sailed past Nielsen Park or Point Piper or Taronga Zoo that these would be the sites of my childhood?
Strange to think that the Opera House wasn’t even finished yet
Could you have imagined me singing in the Opera House?! Or having my year 10 formal at the Zoo overlooking the giraffes looking out to the Harbour?
Could you have imagined that I would grow up among the eucalyptus and the smell of the Australian bush
And yet never feel at home in it
To feel frustrated every time someone asks “but don’t you feel so lucky?”
In two months, I’m leaving this place
To go to the land where your brothers live
And then to London to seek my own life and put down my own roots
Where I will be in forty-eight years time?
And what stories will have played out between my arrival at Heathrow and sitting down to reflect on it all?
Abuelo, forty-eight years ago you sailed to Sydney
To a land that for you was entirely sight unseen
No internet to do your research
No crystal ball to let you know that it was all going to be ok, that you were making the right decision
Our wanderings are not over yet
We are still shifting in time and space
But wherever we go, there we are
And we have our stories and our ancestors to guide the way
2 Comments
Wow. So much history here and a wonderful story that I could see as movie as I read your poem. This is wonderful. I especially adore the ending... As we humans keep wandering, and wondering about our shiftings in time and space, while about us we still feel that connection with our ancestors and their stories. It's our duty to write our stories for the future now. Bless you!
Thank you so much Nessa! :)