house and introduced myself as Aniceto's grandson. They
received me with surprising effusiveness. My relatives
organised several parties in honor of the cousin/nephew
who came from America.
I ate exquisite delicacies, they embraced me in a way I
never knew, and they told me stories about my family and
my grandfather.
One afternoon they took me to the plaza to visit the
church. We stood in front, the sun was dazzling, I had to
close one eye so I could see the church. One of my cousins
pointed to the vane that indicates where the wind blows at
the top of the tower and asked me if I could see the hole in
it. Of course I did not see it. He told me that my grandfa-
ther had shot at it with a 38 revolver. It seemed he didn’t
like priests. He was a poet.
My grandfather Archibaldo was born on Mull Island.
With my son I visited the island a couple of years ago. We
took a ferry in Obay and crossed on a beautiful morning
in the month of July.
The landscape left us with mouths open. Fantastic!
We arrived and visited the Duart Castle (Mac Lean of
Duart). Lord Mac Lean, who is in charge of its conserva-
tion, assisted us and he showed us the guestbook where
my grandfather’s and my father’s signatures appear. They
contributed some bricks for its restoration.
As Mac Leans we could sleep one night for free and
have breakfast in the gardens. The famous cream tea with
scones, orange marmalade, butter, honey and jams of dif-
ferent fruits.
We spent the day walking, visited the village where
my grandfather was born, talked to several "cousins"
and landed at a local pub with three of them and drank
half a dozen single malt scotch glasses from the island.
Of course we had to keep asking each “cousin” to repeat
more than three times whatever they said, to understand
what he or she meant. They spoke in an "English" almost
unknown to me: Gaelic.
I told them that I had a little red book of poems in that
language that belonged to my grandfather, that my father
had given me. They were surprised. They told us about
the famine that took place at the end of the 18th century
and how the island became practically uninhabited. All
had migrated towards different destinations. My grand-
parents' to America, and they were squeezed into their
souls.
Hard and courageous men who left not to return. I
TRAVERSE 52