THE TRAINING

Aside from a very emotional reunion with my grandmother, my return to Poland went rather unnoticed. Ania resumed high school and Iwona university while I started learning carpentry, glasswork, and metalwork in vocational college. My father had already enrolled me even before the family went to Cuba for Christmas. When I arrived on the island in my childhood, Alegria and I got into the habit of sending my parents a copy of my transcripts and my school notebook. My father had everything he needed to prepare for my college registration in Poland. I corresponded in Polish with my sisters by mail, so he could also easily assess my level of comprehension and written production. His intention had never been to exile me forever, but to remove me temporarily.

'Your father's chosen a very beautiful woman,' my grandmother started cutting out a piece of my favourite cake that she had made to celebrate my return. 'What a fine young man you've become. At least you aren't as ugly and black as night.' She gently placed a generous slice of cake on my plate.

'Thank you, grandma,' I said, smiling at her. I looked at my parents and my sisters alternately to observe their reaction.

They were sitting with me around the table, quietly waiting for my grandmother to give them a slice of my favourite cake. As usual, my mother greeted the statement with religious silence and a peaceful face. Despite her beautiful mask, I could sense that she too hadn't appreciated those words even if it had been made under the veil of a compliment.

A compliment? For whom?

Obviously, since my mother had grown up in Cuba, she was just as familiar as I had become with the hierarchy of skin colours. However, the comment referred to her at that moment, her mother, her ancestry. As a result, it became personal. My father and sisters didn't flinch. My father smiled proudly at his mother while my sisters glanced furtively at their mobile phones near their plate on the table. The latter didn't care about the hierarchy of skin colours that placed them above all dark-skinned women on the planet, including their own mother and maternal grandmother. There was no harm there since the statement constituted the norm on this side of the world. However, the sad truth was that this had also become the case even in the Caribbean. It is amazing what men can make other men swallow with time and a lot of imagination.

I grabbed my spoon, my throat tight, my stomach knotted. Then, I cut a small piece of my favourite cake before slowly opening my mouth. I brought the spoon closer to my lips inhaling the sweet and familiar smell, then suddenly, I wolfed down the piece of cake.

'Yummm, it's really good. Thanks grandma!' I exclaimed, looking up at my grandmother who gazed at me intensely with a broad, proud smile.

This sweet wrinkled face had often smiled at me, entertaining my early years while my parents worked. I had returned home, but by a game of fate, I had found myself in a foreign land. I would have to unlearn and relearn everything, or almost.

In addition to my vocational college education, my father decided to personally train me physically. The first time he woke me up with a few taps on my shoulder, I turned back to check the time on my alarm clock. I was surprised to read 4:00 a.m. My father threw my t-shirt in my face before saying, 'Get dressed, we're going for a run.'

I rubbed my eyes and got out of bed to put my clothes on quickly. After two days, I realised that this would be our morning routine for my father and me. So, I started getting up at 3:30 a.m. every morning to air my room, make my bed, and get dressed before my father appeared in the doorway of my bedroom. After our long jog, he made me lift weights, do boxing and abs. This was every day before college for me and work for him, except Saturdays. After my shower, I ate breakfast with my mother and my sisters. My father never ate in the morning so he left straight for work after his shower. He started at 6 a.m. Spending the first hours of the day by his side in the cool of the morning and the twilight of dawn felt quite special for me, especially since we worked out just the two of us. For a teenager like me who had spent most of his free time working the land, feeding animals under a blazing sun, swimming in the sea and making girls dance all night long, I was used to physical exercise.

***

'You're good at languages, aren't you?' my father exclaimed, watching the American tourist walk away. The latter had stopped us in the street to ask for directions.

'I'm okay,' I said.

'You should learn more languages,' my father added enthusiastically.

'Which ones?' I asked without much interest, but pleased to see that my performance had impressed my father.

'All of them,' he replied dryly. He turned to look me straight in the eye, 'All the languages ​​of Eastern Europe if you can.''