October 22, 2019: Things did not go as I’d hoped on this day – the day of our final meeting with the Mayor of Cotacachi. We had an appointment with him for 10:00, it was a bit of scramble to get all 3 of us in the same place at the same time, as we came from 3 different locations. But we made it…..almost on time, but only to find out there was an emergency meeting called due to ongoing negotiations from the strike. The Major of course had more important priorities. We were told we could come back at 3:00, and after allowing for our different circumstances we decided it would be worth waiting.
On this day I had a representative present who was interested in doing a documentary of my story, my reasons for being here. The proposal had been given to the Mayor before the strike happened, so he understood the storyline and the objective of the documentary. Not once had he given indication he was unwilling to help us, rather he encouraged us to provide more information. This meeting was to confirm or deny the availability of funding for the proposal, something we all felt should be decided as soon as possible, mostly because of my situation. So we agreed to wait.
William, my friend from Quito who had driven up for the meeting offered to take me to see Jenny’s family as we now had so much time on our hands and it was not very far from Cotacachi. I was so happy to have the opportunity and thanked him for his kindness. When we got to their home however, no one was there, a feeling of disappointment for missing them washed over me – it seemed to be a day of feeling as though I was out of step somehow. However, when we were just about to turn the car around, heading back to Cotacachi, the family pulled up behind us. There were surprised faces as they realized who was on their doorstep, but there were also big smiles and warm embraces as we said hello. My heart filled with joy as Marina hugged me so close, then stepping back as she held my face in her hands, her affections for me very clear. I remember thinking on my bus ride home that night how amazing it is to feel so connected in a loving way to someone you only knew for 3 days.
I had brought colouring pages with me and bought them new crayons and felt pens, such a small gift to say thank-you.
I also showed them a photo of the picture of Marina and Vincente that I had drawn as a gift. I explained my visit was not planned, so I had left the gift at home, not wishing to damage it. I would bring it on my next visit. They were so happy and I think a little embarrassed to see themselves in a drawing, and are looking forward to receiving it, (I hope). I wish I was better at drawing people, but I did put my heart and soul into the effort, memories of my time in their home ever present as I drew. It was so important for me to capture something of the beauty of this couple – doing my best to create their likeness.
William and I did not stay long, but it was the best part of my day, to see them, as well as to spend time with Charles and William. – my friends. It had been my birthday the day before, something I did not share with anyone here, but inside I was grateful to have time with these people whom I treasure, it was a blessing. I had been quite fortunate to hear from a few friends back home and was able to speak with my son ( a great gift) on my birthday as well, something which means so much when you are far away from everything you know. So I will take this moment to thank you for remembering, it meant a great deal to me……
William and I had a nice time as we ate lunch and wandered the streets waiting for our 3:00 appointment. Charles had taken the opportunity to go to Ibarra to take care of some important business of his own interests. We met up at the appropriate time, but it was not until 5:00 that we were able to have the meeting. It was difficult for me, as I could not understand much of what was said, and sometimes when Charles turned to explain, he did so in spanish which was kind of funny really. I caught words here and there plus I could feel the intentions of what was being said, realizing we had hit a rather big wall. While the major’s reasons were valid, I felt he could have saved me many months of waiting, by giving them to me back in April when we had first met. I had a strong impression the strike had changed much in our worlds, most of it unseen, but felt on a deeper level.
There have been to date, no alternative solutions in place to recover the costs of not removing the subsidies which ended the strike a short time before. In order to keep the balance, something significant will have to change to maintain the required payments to the IMF. And I believe my documentary went against the possibility they will be allowing the mining companies to begin operations. The focus of what we wanted to accomplish with the video was to bring back the spirit of El Che, and his desire to end the tyranny of such companies. It was his journey through Latin America which inspired the seeds of revolution in his heart (at least this is what I believe), as this was when he first saw the devastation caused by the mining companies here. His commitment never wavered over the years to bring independence to the countries of South America, and we hoped to inspire the people once more by remembering him in this way. To tell me now after so many months and 3 previous visits (the #3 seems to be dominate in this story doesn’t it?), that he was not able to take the risk of helping me due to his political position, seemed strange, and I felt this was something he could have told me after the last meeting at the very least. But here we were, the truth of my situation staring me in the face and I knew my time here was running short.
He also said he was very surprised at my strong belief as to who I am, perhaps he had hoped I would give up before he had to tell me what he said today. It was a statement I was not prepared emotionally to answer, so it was difficult for me to answer without tears. But I told him that my memories were the only part of my life that felt real to me. He felt I should travel to Cuba and have a DNA test done. It must be difficult for someone to understand the enormity of facing such a situation because people say this without a thought to the emotional consequences I face in doing so. And of course not everyone can just hop on a plane to take such a risk – my circumstances do not allow me to make such bold choices at this time. The next morning I sent him a more detailed explanation – not in the hopes of changing his mind, but because I felt it was important to clarify what I feel. Along with his assistant, he recommended I take my story to the Cultural Centre in Ibarra to see if they would be interested in helping me, so at least a small glimmer of hope came from the meeting. I have since, upon further thought, decided not to do this.
We had to leave rather abruptly because as I raced to catch the last bus home, the clock was moving too fast suddenly. Mali has to be locked in my room when I take such trips so she won’t follow me and I had to get back to her. I worry about her the whole time I am away, especially since the strike, as I am concerned about the possibility of another road block situation.
The bus ride home seemed so quiet to me; it was dark, the clouds were settled in the mountain gorges and it was raining. As my mind went quiet after settling into my seat, I tried to sort out what might have been said in the meeting, as Charles did not have time to explain. I began to think, memories reaching out to me as I let go of the busyness of the day. I had bought postcards of my father from a vendor in the Plaza San Francisco, and pulled them out now, needing to look at him. Staring at the face from my dreams so many years ago as I contemplated what the Mayor had said about my conviction. The memory of running into the arms of the man in this photograph as a young girl, the joy of feeling myself fall into his arms, the strongest reason for belief. Do we not know our own parents when we see them, feel their embrace and hear their voice? They are part of us, they are in our hearts no matter they are taken from us at such a young age. I explained to Auki in my letter the next morning that the memories given back to me have never faded over the years. All I had to hang onto was a voice and a face. There was no name, only strange clues and riddles identifying him, so the importance of those things were like a life raft for me – letting them go would have been the end of me emotionally.
This in part is what I wrote for myself after I woke the next morning; Thinking about it this morning as I woke, more pinholes of light could be seen in the bubble of my protective shell. Sometimes these first few moments upon waking, as if the thoughts were formed in conversation with the spirits, I see things so clearly, as if understanding has always been there. And I suppose it always has. If someone were to show me through a DNA test Che Guevara was not my father, my world would end. Not because of who he is to the world, but who he became to me. Learning of his existence through the dreams and visions made me whole, the emptiness of so many years without love or affection filling with hope. The walls around my heart beginning to crack with his presence. His identity outside the perimeter of his being my father, did not matter to me and I prayed for so many years he was still alive so I could spend time with him again. Proving my birthright through legal procedures will not make those memories more important, being recognized will not give me back my childhood, or take away the pain of all that happened. Having a piece of paper with the pertinent information on it somehow takes away from the reality of discovering him in my own way, of just being the daughter of a nameless man who showed me tenderness and love. How different things may have been had I just been allowed to live with his memory, be myself, accept the situation, able to make up my own mind the direction it would take me. But it was not to be, and knowing the truth does not change what was done to prevent that alternate life. One can only hope the story itself can inspire others to find their way. In this way, perhaps being his daughter will have importance….
Someone once said to me ,”Why do you care so much that you are his daughter? He was just a man”. While that may be true, to me he is the man who saved me, gave me back my identity. His name was not what mattered, only that he clearly loved me. It was always my hope to be reunited with him, touch his face and see he was real, validation my dreams and visions were true – there was possibility the strength of my belief could bring him back to me.
The understanding I had hit another wall at this time has been too much for me to deal with emotionally, and so I have decided to let go of finding a home for my book. Rather, I have found home in my heart, which was the intention behind the book and the journey here. Perhaps it’s place on the blog is truly the only way it should be seen. In many ways I was much happier in my ignorance of his identity, knowing has not given him more importance, nor has it given me reason to see myself as better. It has always been about the story, of how I got here and the importance of telling the truth about what happened to us, behind my intentions. It is true I hoped it would be of importance to the people here, that knowing would somehow help, but in the end, it is day to day existence that rules their thoughts, who I am doesn’t alter anything for them.
The world has moved far past caring what happened to the important persons from the days of my youth, to put faith in what I am saying. So there is comfort in letting go of the need to prove myself through my story, I can go back to being “just me” but with the knowledge I meant something to my real parents. That I feel this man close in my heart is due to his desire to remind me of his existence. I had no reason to look for him until he made me aware of him, so I feel it is best to go back to the time when I first remembered him, without a name, without status and continue from there. It is enough for me to have found the relationship with the land closer to my birth place and feel his presence beside me as I continue on my journey. His spirit as he joins me is so much stronger than any mans doubt and will continue to guide and protect me……..I am Gabriel, I am my father’s daughter, I am loved!