Immigrant
Immigrant: yes, that word. A word which is said over and over again in our modern world. A word which sadly is often used in a derogatory manner to describe those who have left their homeland for one reason or another. It’s nothing new; human beings have wandered across the world for many centuries.
I visited Cornwall for a few days last week, to catch up with family and to do some research for the sequel to my novel Masquerade. You may wonder what Cornwall has to do with New York and Tiger Bay if you have read my book, but that’s another story. Tourism in Cornwall has been the main industry for many years. That’s hardly surprising as it’s a stunningly beautiful county as you probably know.
However mining in Cornwall was an important part of the European mining history over two centuries and students came from all over the world to learn their skills and expertise. It’s a long and fascinating story; more can be found in ‘Voices of the Cornish Mining Landscape’, by Sharron P Schwartz, published by Cornwall County Council in 2008. Today most of the mines are closed, because the minerals are no longer there. The stunning mysterious buildings grace the landscape over certain areas, often dotted with lichen and ivy, their heavy granite walls showing the wear and tear of time and weather. Following the loss of their employment, thousands of Cornish miners emigrated to countries all over the world, sharing their knowledge, expertise and skills.
Surely sharing our world should be what it is all about. But as we all know there are those who had no choice, when one thinks about Slavery, modern day Trafficking, the Holocaust and too many other dreadful atrocities dealt out by humans to other humans.
If you have read or not yet read Masquerade, I’d like to include this short paragraph which is almost near the end of the story. It was a personal account of my experience when I visited Ellis Island on Columbus Day, a few years ago; it was extremely crowded.
I gave these words to one of the characters in the narrative.
‘Beggars and itinerant musicians approach those who look likely to part with a dollar or two. [ …] A black man, wearing long, dirty dreadlocks and a shabby faded coat shuffles towards me. He looks like someone who has slept rough for many years. He might be seventy or eighty years old, but could be younger due to harsh living conditions. [ …]
He starts to play the Star- Spangled Banner on a dented tin whistle, staring hard into my face the whole time as if performing for me only. The irony of visiting on the day that America celebrates the arrival of her most lauded immigrant does not escape me. But this man is no immigrant. No doubt his forebears were displaced. Not for them was the hopeful spirit of the pioneer. Nor did they stake claim to a land already loved and inhabited. Hungry and homeless, he is twice displaced. The phrasing of the tune is halting, poignant, sad. He stops midway through to catch his breath. I reach into my pocket for a dollar and put it in the paper cup he holds out before I am carried away on a tide of people.
‘Thankyou sister,’ he says, his voice a monotone.
ATC11Oct21
I visited Cornwall for a few days last week, to catch up with family and to do some research for the sequel to my novel Masquerade. You may wonder what Cornwall has to do with New York and Tiger Bay if you have read my book, but that’s another story. Tourism in Cornwall has been the main industry for many years. That’s hardly surprising as it’s a stunningly beautiful county as you probably know.
However mining in Cornwall was an important part of the European mining history over two centuries and students came from all over the world to learn their skills and expertise. It’s a long and fascinating story; more can be found in ‘Voices of the Cornish Mining Landscape’, by Sharron P Schwartz, published by Cornwall County Council in 2008. Today most of the mines are closed, because the minerals are no longer there. The stunning mysterious buildings grace the landscape over certain areas, often dotted with lichen and ivy, their heavy granite walls showing the wear and tear of time and weather. Following the loss of their employment, thousands of Cornish miners emigrated to countries all over the world, sharing their knowledge, expertise and skills.
Surely sharing our world should be what it is all about. But as we all know there are those who had no choice, when one thinks about Slavery, modern day Trafficking, the Holocaust and too many other dreadful atrocities dealt out by humans to other humans.
If you have read or not yet read Masquerade, I’d like to include this short paragraph which is almost near the end of the story. It was a personal account of my experience when I visited Ellis Island on Columbus Day, a few years ago; it was extremely crowded.
I gave these words to one of the characters in the narrative.
‘Beggars and itinerant musicians approach those who look likely to part with a dollar or two. [ …] A black man, wearing long, dirty dreadlocks and a shabby faded coat shuffles towards me. He looks like someone who has slept rough for many years. He might be seventy or eighty years old, but could be younger due to harsh living conditions. [ …]
He starts to play the Star- Spangled Banner on a dented tin whistle, staring hard into my face the whole time as if performing for me only. The irony of visiting on the day that America celebrates the arrival of her most lauded immigrant does not escape me. But this man is no immigrant. No doubt his forebears were displaced. Not for them was the hopeful spirit of the pioneer. Nor did they stake claim to a land already loved and inhabited. Hungry and homeless, he is twice displaced. The phrasing of the tune is halting, poignant, sad. He stops midway through to catch his breath. I reach into my pocket for a dollar and put it in the paper cup he holds out before I am carried away on a tide of people.
‘Thankyou sister,’ he says, his voice a monotone.
ATC11Oct21
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