A generation of Portuguese migrants arriving home for summer…
It’s summertime in Europe.
The emigrants return to their birth places to visit families and remember the memories built while they were young.
During the year, they talk about the sun and the delicatesses from home. The expectations are high and the plans even bigger.
They arrive in big cars, packed for the whole month. The whole village sees them arriving.
The Sunday mass gets busy again after a cold silent winter.
Everybody is happy and the village recalls the good old times.
Also myself returns home.
Slightly different from those who left in the 60’s, slightly different from my own uncle who had to leave from the little village because he had no options.
I had options. I chose a new country to live because I wanted to.
But not all of them were like me.
Them, my uncle, and their friends. Sometimes I feel our stories are similar, but they are not.
We tell our lives and how it’s so different to live abroad. But when it comes to the starting point… we have a different story to tell.
Abroad, in the rich Europe they are seen as the kind, hard-working and welcoming people. The host country outbursts in pleasant words about them, but most of the time forgets where they are really coming from.
The host country forgets about their childhoods, families, memories and traditions that were left behind.
In the new country they had attempted to mingle and become part of it.
However, their hearts belong elsewhere. Their memories and identity have feet in other land.
And the ones who know little about it, always tend to forget.
Back home, in north of Portugal, I see the Portuguese migrants returning from around Europe to their almost empty villages.
They left in the 60’s, forced by the poverty of the country and never returned.
Out there in the world, they work to have a better a life.
They work day and night to save for the future. To build a future their parents never imagine existing.
Life was hard. Life is still hard. Life is about work and sleep. Pleasure is in the agenda for later, many years later. They got to remain strong to keep striving for a better future.
Deep in their hearts, they wish to return home one day. They wish to return to the starting point.
A much simpler starting point, but the one that feels home.
But for now…it is time to save for that day.
To all Portuguese migrants out there, including my own family who left Portugal in a period where most people looked for a life with more dignity.
Patricia Assis
July, 26th 2021
