CHRISTMAS

Alegria had seen her four daughters leave the island one after the other, either by the fortune of a foreign husband, or by virtue of their talent and creativity. One of my aunts had embraced the career of professional ballet dancer in London. My grandmother spoke rarely about her family. From the little she had shared with me, I knew that she had become an orphan at the age of eight. Her parents and her ten siblings had succumbed to the daily hardship and poverty of their lives. She had been taken in by a childless couple who needed help at home. Their generosity and altruism didn't come for free at all. She often spoke of her relationship with them more like that of a slave with her masters than a child with her adoptive parents. Very young, she had developed great love for the earth and all the animals that lived on it. They gave her a valuable occupation, entertainment, and food. For that reason, she owed them extreme gratitude. Her dream as a starving orphan had always been to own her land, and continue to cherish the earth and all its animals. Most importantly, she wished to no longer depend on the false generosity of any opportunistic altruists.

I never thought about it while living with her, but looking back I can say that Alegria loved solitude. Although she enjoyed occasionally the company of other women, she never sought their company herself. Instead, she preferred to enjoy the disorderly melody of nature or the passionate rhythms of salsa to the gossiping of right-thinking women. This is why, and unlike other children my age on the island including Chris, I didn't grow up with a string of uncles, aunts, cousins ​​and nephews constantly at home. Visitors passed by to help with the land in exchange for food sometimes, although there was always little of it, even for a very small nuclear family like ours. The concept of a nuclear lineage doesn't really exist in the Caribbean because most families have always been nuclear throughout their history. Most households there have rarely consisted solely of those who share the same name and the same blood like in Europe. Family is very much like the earth. We adopt it, we cultivate it and we take great care of it despite all the sacrifices simply because our survival depends on it. Their African heritage and that of four centuries of slavery have taught the peoples of the Caribbean islands to take care of children who aren't theirs and to recognise the value of ancestors who aren't their grandparents.

That same year, my dad decided to finally reunite us all for Christmas. The news was announced to me by my mother over the phone like the Annunciation of Virgin Mary by Angel Gabriel. Just like Virgin Mary, I took the news with shock and deference. When I told Algeria without hiding my emotions, she frowned, sucking her teeth before going to the garden. Her reaction didn't surprise me. Alegria didn't like how my father had been ignoring me all these years since I had arrived on the island. She often spoke about it openly. She was never vulgar towards him and never spoke ill of him in my presence. However, she was also not shy about expressing her displeasure. Having said that, it seemed to me that there was in her attitude a pain much deeper than my own abandonment. Maybe, he reminded her of someone she had known very well. I stood motionless for awhile, staring at the tiles at my feet, stunned by the big present my parents wanted to give me for Christmas. I was moved and anxious at the same time after so many years of separation. I had grown and obviously, I had changed a lot. Surely, they had too. Would they like the Borys raised in Cuba with his good manners and athletic body better?

My birthday being in September, I was sixteen when Alegria, Pedro, and I welcomed with open arms my mother, my father, and my two sisters, all as white as each other. Because of their fair complexion and straight hair, my sisters had always passed off as white. Even my mother's complexion was slightly lighter than mine. However, her heavy, wavy hair, full lips and her nose betraying her African origins. My dad was sporting his first greying hair. Ania, who was barely three years-old before my exile, jumped on my neck, crying. Finally, she could hug this big brother whom she had only seen on pictures. Iwona, who was already twenty years-old, acted with more reserved although she too had tears in her eyes. She hugged me very tightly over Ania's embrace. Pedro shook hands with my father who then turned to Alegria to kiss her on the cheek. My mother warmly brushed her lips against her mother's cheeks, then she turned to me, smiling her eyes full of emotions. She looked at me proudly for a long moment before kissing me on both cheeks as well. She squeezed me tenderly against her tiny body.

Once the women in the family had finished giving me all their attention, my father, who was standing in the background, peering and examining me, started walking towards me. Just the thought that my father was about to come up to me and hug me, made my heart skip a beat and shiver with joy. At sixteen, I was already more than a head taller than my father. The outdoors, and the hard work of life on Alegria's property had developed my muscle mass and the natural olive complexion of my skin.

"Well, Borys, I see you've grown a lot," my father exclaimed softly.

I hadn't heard his voice for over ten years. Hot tears came to my eyes.

Will he finally take me in his arms?

"Let's go!" He said simply, addressing the small group.

My mother came to gently put a soft and compassionate hand on my back, turning her beautiful peaceful face towards me. She smiled while her eyes spoke to me on her behalf; they told me sweetly: your father hasn't changed, Borys. You have to learn to accept it, and everything will be fine.