...Un buen día, hablando por hablar, descubrí que, como muchos canarios, yo también descendía de migrantes, lo que me hizo ver que, quizás mi vocación no era gratuita. Y más me interesaba la interculturalidad…saber de dónde venían las personas y el por qué de sus ritos, su gastronomía, sus idiomas, incluso ver, que mucho de lo que tenemos, se lo debemos a culturas de lejanas tierras.
Sin embargo, un día acabé especialmente agotada entre tantas actividades y proyectos que diseñaba, que me costó coger el sueño y cuando, por fin pude, empezó lo que llamo “mi peor pesadilla”:
Iba por la calle, y aunque estaba llena de gente, me sentí algo vacía… algo no me cuadraba… parecía que algo me faltaba… Ya no veía a aquellas gentes, tan cercanas a mí, pero a la vez tan alejadas, culturalmente hablando, las mismas que muchas veces me paraban para saludarme que, incluso empecé a sentir náuseas.... (continuará)
... One day, speaking to speak, I discovered that, like many canaries, I also descended from migrants, which made me see that perhaps my vocation was not gratuitous. And I was more interested in interculture ... to know where people came from and why their rites, their cuisine, their languages, even see, that much of what we have, we owe it to cultures from far lands.
However, one day I ended up especially exhausted among so many activities and projects that I designed, that it was difficult for me to sleep and when I, at last, I fell asleep, suddenly, "my worst nightmare" began:
I was going down the street, and although it was full of people, I felt something empty ... something I did not fit ... it seemed that something was missing ... I no longer saw those people, so close to me, but at the same time so far, culturally speaking, The same ones that many times stopped me to greet me, I even started to feel nauseous .... (to be continued)
Sin embargo, un día acabé especialmente agotada entre tantas actividades y proyectos que diseñaba, que me costó coger el sueño y cuando, por fin pude, empezó lo que llamo “mi peor pesadilla”:
Iba por la calle, y aunque estaba llena de gente, me sentí algo vacía… algo no me cuadraba… parecía que algo me faltaba… Ya no veía a aquellas gentes, tan cercanas a mí, pero a la vez tan alejadas, culturalmente hablando, las mismas que muchas veces me paraban para saludarme que, incluso empecé a sentir náuseas.... (continuará)
... One day, speaking to speak, I discovered that, like many canaries, I also descended from migrants, which made me see that perhaps my vocation was not gratuitous. And I was more interested in interculture ... to know where people came from and why their rites, their cuisine, their languages, even see, that much of what we have, we owe it to cultures from far lands.
However, one day I ended up especially exhausted among so many activities and projects that I designed, that it was difficult for me to sleep and when I, at last, I fell asleep, suddenly, "my worst nightmare" began:
I was going down the street, and although it was full of people, I felt something empty ... something I did not fit ... it seemed that something was missing ... I no longer saw those people, so close to me, but at the same time so far, culturally speaking, The same ones that many times stopped me to greet me, I even started to feel nauseous .... (to be continued)
Storytelling by Patricia López Muñoz
Técnico Especialista en Inmigración
Técnico Superior en Animación Sociocultural
Monitora Deportiva de Actividades para Personas con Discapacidad
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario