Tell Me Who I Am

by Julia Navarro

  “I shall, and thank you once again.”

  I left the house exhausted, without well knowing why. Those old women, in spite of their apparent imperturbability, displayed a strange kind of tension, and their great-niece, Amelia María, didn’t hide her dislike of me, most likely because she was convinced I was upsetting her aunts’ peace and quiet.

  When I got back to my apartment I turned off my mobile so as not to have to answer any calls. I was keen to bury myself in my great-grandmother’s diaries.

  3

  How happy I am! My birthday party was a success. Mama is unsurpassed when it comes to organizing parties, and what’s more, she gave me the best present: this diary. Papa gave me a pen and my sister some gloves. But I had a great many other presents as well, from my grandparents, from my aunts and uncles, and my friends have also been very generous.

  My grandmother Margot insisted to Papa that Antonietta and I spend the summer with her in Biarritz. I would be so happy! All the more so because they say that my favorite cousin Laura is invited as well. It is not that I am uncomfortable with my sister Antonietta, but Laura and I share everything...

  Laura says we are very lucky to have a French grandmother, because she would be as happy as I am to spend a summer in Biarritz. I think the truly lucky thing is to have a family like ours. I shudder when I think that I could have been born in some other family. Papa has told grandmother that we shall go spend some part of our holiday with her.

  Now I am tired, today has been so full of emotion, I shall continue tomorrow...

  Amelia’s was the diary of an adolescent in a well-off family. As far as I could make out, Amelia’s father, my great-great-grandfather, was Basque on his father’s side and French Basque on his mother’s. He was in commerce and traveled all over Europe and North America. He had a brother who was a lawyer: Armando, the father of Melita, Laura, and Jesús, my great-grandmother’s cousins.

  Amelia and her sister Antonietta had an English governess, although their guardian fairy was their nurse, Amaya, a Basque woman to whom they were devoted, and who had stayed with the family after the girls had left the nursery, helping the family in other ways.

  My great-grandmother had been a dedicated student. It seems that what she most liked was playing the piano and painting, she dreamed of being famous for either of these skills, and she had a natural ear for languages. She shared all her girlish secrets with her cousin Laura. She was two years older than her sister Antonietta, but for Amelia this was an eternity.

  It appears that Amelia’s father insisted that his two daughters study and have good educations. They both studied with the Sisters of St. Teresa and took piano lessons and French classes.

  My great-great-grandfather must have been a rather special person, because from time to time he took trips outside of Spain with his family. Amelia wrote down in her diary her impressions of Munich, Berlin, Rome, Paris... All stories told by a girl who was full of life.

  I thought the diary was quite boring. I wasn’t at all interested in Amelia’s daily life, and apart from its revealing that her favorite cousin was called Laura and that one of her grandmothers was French, the rest of it was a syrupy story that I found tedious. That’s why I decided to turn my phone on again, and to call a female friend so we could go out for a drink to take my mind off things. I left the second diary for the next day.

  I have tuberculosis. I’ve been in bed for several days and the doctor won’t allow me to have visitors. Laura came today, taking advantage of the fact that Papa is away in Germany and Mama always goes to Mass at nine in the morning. Laura brought me a diary as a present, just like the one Mama gave me when I was fourteen.

  I didn’t let her come close to the bed, but her visit made me very happy. Laura is more to me than just a cousin, she’s like a sister, she understands me better than anyone else, much better than Antonietta. And I was touched by her present: this diary. She told me that it would help me be less bored, and would make the time pass more quickly. But what will I be able to put down here if I can’t leave my bed?

  The doctor came to see me, and it annoyed me that he treated me as if I were a child. He said that I need to keep taking rest, but that I should also breathe pure air. Mama has decided to send me to the country, to Amaya’s house. They had thought to send me to grandmother Margot’s house in Biarritz, but grandmother has had a series of persistent colds, so she’s not in the best of health to look after a patient with tuberculosis. Also, Dr. Gabriel has said that pure mountain air is the best.

  Mama is getting everything ready for us to go to Nurse’s farm. Amaya will look after me, Mama has to stay with Antonietta and wait for Papa to come back from Germany, but she will come to see me from time to time. I prefer leaving to remaining here in this room; if it wasn’t for Laura’s visits then I think I should go mad. Although I am scared that maybe I will infect my cousin. Nobody knows she comes to see me, just Nurse, but she says nothing.

  Nurse allows me to get up. She does not insist that I stay in bed. She says that if I feel strong enough then the best thing is for me to go outside and breathe pure air like Dr. Gabriel said. Here, up in the mountains, pure air is something we have a great deal of.

  Nurse’s parents are old, it’s difficult for me to understand them because they speak Basque the whole time, but Amaya’s oldest son Aitor is teaching me. Papa says I have a gift for languages, and the truth is that I am learning quickly.

  I get on well with Aitor, and I also get on well with Edurne, Amaya’s daughter, who is the same age as me... well, a few months older. Aitor and Edurne are very different, just like Antonietta and me. Nurse wants Edurne to come back with us to Madrid, to work in the house. I’ve promised her that I will convince Mama. Edurne is very quiet, but she always smiles and she tries to do everything I need.

  Papa has provided a reference for Aitor to work in one of the offices of the Basque Nationalist Party, the PNV, in San Sebastián. He is spending the whole week there. He says he is very happy with his work, he carries messages, he looks after visitors, and he also does little jobs round the office, such as addressing envelopes. Aitor is three years older than me, but he does not treat me like a child.

  Nurse looks after him a lot, she’s very proud of her son. The poor thing has really never lived with them, she came to our house when I was born, and I see now that it must have been very difficult to look after us instead of her own children. She must have missed them so!

  We went into San Sebastián to call grandmother Margot, she is a little better and has promised to come to see me.

  Aitor was surprised that I speak French with my grandmother, but we have always done so. Grandmother Margot also speaks in French with Papa. She speaks in Spanish only with Mama, but Mama is not very good with languages, and although she speaks French she speaks it only when we are in Biarritz.

  I have gone out with Aitor to walk up in the mountains. Nurse told me not to tire myself out, but I do feel better, and I insisted that if we climbed a little further then we would be able to see France.

  I think about grandmother Margot. I would like to see her, but I am still convalescing. As soon as I am better I will go to Biarritz.

  Aitor knows a way to get into France without going past the customs post. He told me that there are many roads that lead to France, and that all the people round here know them, especially the shepherds. His grandfather showed him. Apparently, his grandfather and other shepherds have even earned a few pesetas by smuggling. Aitor made me promise not to tell anyone and I won’t, I don’t want to think what my father would say.

  Aitor has told me that he does not want to stay in the village forever. He studies at night, when he gets back from work. He’s only three years older than I am. And he is learning French now; I’m teaching him in exchange for him teaching me Basque.

  Aitor says that I am Basque as well. And he says it as if it were something special. But I don’t feel special, I don’t care if I’m Basque or from some other place. I cannot
feel the same way he does, and he says it’s because I don’t live on the land. I don’t know. I feel proud to be called Garayoa, but because it is Papa’s name, not because it is a Basque name. No, whatever Aitor says, I can’t think that I’m special simply for being half Basque.

  Now I speak in Basque with Aitor, and also with Amaya and her parents. I like doing it. Everyone in the village speaks in Basque and they are very surprised to hear me. I am really not bad at it. Aitor’s French is getting much better. His mother says that it won’t help him at all, that it would be better for him to learn how to milk a cow properly, but Aitor isn’t going to stay here, he’s sure about it. When he comes back from San Sebastián he brings the newspaper with him. He says that the political situation is bad. Mama says that things have gotten worse since the king left, but Papa doesn’t feel the same way, he supports Acción Republicana, Manuel Azaña’s party. Aitor doesn’t seem to feel any sympathy for Alfonso XIII either. Of course, Aitor dreams of Basque independence. I ask him what he would do about all the people here who aren’t Basques, and he says that I shouldn’t worry, that I’m a Garayoa.

  At supper he told us that there is a group that has formed, CEDA, the Spanish Coalition of Right-Wing Groups, and that it will run in the elections. I am not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, I will ask my parents when they come to see me in a few days. I miss them so much! Antonietta will not come because I am still not fully cured.

  It has been very difficult for me to leave my parents again. When the car started to move I began to cry just like a little girl. Dr. Gabriel has said that I am still not fully cured and that I will have to stay in Nurse’s house a while longer, but how long is that? No one will tell me and I am frantic.

  I have convinced Mama to allow Edurne to come with us to Madrid; I have said that she could be a good maid, and that we should do this for Amaya who has been such a good nurse for Antonietta and me. She resisted for a while, but eventually she gave in and I am very happy, because she says that she will have Edurne look after Antonietta and me.

  Papa has come back worried from Germany: He told us about the new chancellor there, a man named Adolf Hitler. According to Papa, Hitler makes speeches that stir everyone up, and my father is worried, and doesn’t trust him. Probably this is because Hitler does not like the Jews, and Papa’s business partner there, Herr Itzhak Wassermann, is Jewish. Apparently Jews have started to have problems. Papa has offered Herr Itzhak the chance to come and set himself up in Spain, but he says that he is a good German and should have nothing to fear. Herr Itzhak is married and has three daughters, they are very nice, Yla is my age. They have spent a few summers with us in Biarritz, and Antonietta and I have been to their house in Berlin as well. I hope that this Hitler gets over his dislike of Jews. After Laura, Yla is my best friend.

  My parents have come back and we have gone to San Sebastián. We were invited to tea at the house of one of Papa’s friends, one of the leaders of the Basque Nationalist Party, and he and Papa spent the afternoon talking politics.

  My father said that if things go on like this, so uncertain, then President Alcalá Zamora will have to call early elections. Papa explained that the people on the Right are scared by some of the decisions that the government has been making, and the people on the Left do not believe that the president is instituting the social changes they were hoping for.

  I stayed the whole afternoon listening to Papa, even though Mama and our hostess tried to insist that I go speak with them in the drawing room. I was more interested in what my father and his friend were saying. I do not understand much, but I like politics.

  One of Amaya’s childhood friends is married to a fisherman. This is good, because one Saturday they invited us out in their boat. It is little, but Amaya’s friend’s husband handles it well. We took sandwiches and ate on the high seas. We laughed a lot because we were always crossing over into French waters. But there are no borders in the sea. The fisherman showed Aitor and me how to handle the boat. His son Patxi, who is the same age as Aitor, is a fisherman like his father, and goes out with him at dawn every morning to go fishing. I think that if I didn’t study then I’d love to be a fisherwoman. I feel so at home on the sea!

  I spent all morning reading my great-grandmother’s second diary and I have to admit that the second volume was more enjoyable than the first. I found out that Amelia had spent almost six months on her nurse’s farm before the doctor gave her the all-clear, and although she wanted very much to go home, it was difficult for her to leave Aitor.

  This young man spoke to her about politics and tried to inspire her with the same love for the “Basque homeland” as he himself felt, he spoke about an idyllic past and a future in which the Basques would have their own state.

  My great-grandmother didn’t really care what happened to the Basque country; what was important for her was Aitor’s company.

  It was not difficult to say goodbye. Aitor asked for the day off work and we spent it walking together on the hillside. I now know four different paths that lead to France; some of them are used by smugglers. But everyone knows each other here, and whatever they do, no one reports their neighbors.

  I wonder if I will come back soon, and above all what Aitor will do when I am gone. I imagine he will meet a girl and they will get married, it’s what his grandparents want. They have brought him up to take charge of the farm.

  Although he does not say it out loud, what he would really like to do is to dedicate himself to politics; he is ever more involved in work for his party, and his bosses have faith in him.

  A few days ago I went with Amaya and Edurne to San Sebastián, we went shopping and then we went to the PNV office where Aitor works. Amaya was very proud to see how much confidence everyone had in her son, his bosses were very proud of him, and said that he had a great future ahead of him.

  I am pleased for him, but... well, I must say it: I know that I will not be a part of that future and that hurts me.

  I am leaving early tomorrow. Aitor will take us to San Sebastián station.

  Amaya is sad. If it were up to her then she would stay on the farm, but she says that she has to continue working to support her parents and her children. She has a dream that Aitor will become a politician and that Edurne will fit into our family and will stay with us as a maid, but then who will take care of the farm? I think that what Amaya wants is for Edurne to take her place and for her to go back to be with her parents.

  Aitor’s parents have never left these mountains, the furthest they’ve ever traveled is to San Sebastián. They say they’re not interested in finding out about other places, that their world is here and that it’s the best of all possible worlds.

  Papa says that there are two types of Basques, those who set out to conquer the world and those who believe that there is no world beyond the mountains. He is one of the first kind, Aitor’s grandparents are the second type. But they are good people. To begin with they seemed withdrawn and reserved, they don’t trust those of us who come from outside. But when they got over their shyness, you realized that they are very sensitive people.

  Some nights, after supper, we would sit by the chimney and Aitor’s grandfather would sing songs that at first I did not understand, but I thought were nostalgic. Now I can sing them as well, and I know that Papa will be very surprised when he hears me singing in Basque.

  This diary is running out of pages, I don’t know if I will write another one. I have said it: I am going home tomorrow, and I think that I have grown up during my time here. I feel as if I were a thousand years old.

  I did what we had agreed to and phoned the old women to tell them that I had read the two diaries and to ask them when I could come and see them again. I wondered what they might have prepared for me to help continue my “apprenticeship” in the study of my great-grandmother’s life.

  I couldn’t speak with them directly, but the housekeeper arranged that I would come three days later. I decided to spend this time sketching out the firs
t draft of my great-grandmother’s life, although I had found out nothing extraordinary up to this point.

  Doña Melita and Doña Laura were like two statues. They were always seated in the same armchairs, meticulously dressed in black and gray, the hair of each in a chiffon, with pearls or diamonds in their ears and an air of apparent fragility that was belied by the vigor with which they manipulated me.

  That day they were accompanied by another woman as old as they were. I thought that she was a friend or some relative. They did not introduce me, but I approached her to shake her hand, and I found it was trembling.

  The woman, also dressed in black, but without jewelry and with a more wrinkled face, seemed nervous. I thought she was older than Doña Laura and Doña Melita, if age has much meaning after you reach ninety.

  I saw that Doña Melita took her hand affectionately and clutched it tightly, as though to encourage her.

  They asked me for the diaries, which I gave to them without hesitation, and they wanted to know what I made of Amelia.

  “Well, the truth is she doesn’t seem very special, I suppose she was the typical daughter of a well-off family from that period.”

  “Nothing else?” Doña Melita wanted to know.

  “Nothing else,” I replied, trying to think what I had missed, what was special about the two youthful accounts she had written.

  “Well, now you have some kind of an idea about the sort of person Amelia was as an adolescent, the time has come for you to know how and why she got married,” Doña Laura explained, looking at Doña Melita out of the corner of her eye. “The best thing is for you to be told by someone who lived with her, without leaving her side, throughout these crucial years of her life. Someone who knew her very well,” Doña Laura continued, looking at the old woman whom she had not introduced and who had not yet said a word. “Edurne, this is the great-grandson of Amelia and Santiago,” Doña Laura said to the old woman.