18 August 2019 Edition
Postcards from a New Republic
The ‘Postcards from the New Republic’ series is a hat tip to British designer, artist, entrepreneur and Socialist William Morris’s News from Nowhere series of articles from 1890 published in the Commonweal, the newspaper of the Socialist League and set in a distant future where Morris’s socialist, and romantic, utopia has been secured. Our story’s protagonists are Willa Ní Chuairteoir and Lucy Byrne accompanied by their four children James, Afric, Banba and Alroy who together enjoy and endure the equity and exigency of the future’s New Republic.
It’s been raining for 4 weeks straight. The eldest James has barely left the community garden. His running gag is that they’ll have to rename it the No Feed if the rain doesn’t let up soon. In truth the Big Feed team are managing things well. They’ve long adapted to the increased rainfall. Root rot for the crops and feed for the animals are the biggest challenges. Rain harvesting, acres of raised beds for crops and increasing the tunnels capacity have ensured a stable yield, but they could do without the power cuts.
“Ma!” James yells as he tramps in the back door. “I’m in the study, is everything ok?” Willa shouts back as she heads downstairs to find James stood in the kitchen with a woman, who like her son, is soaked to the skin. She’s gently grasps the woman’s hand, introduces herself and quickly grabs a couple of good towels from the hot press. “Ma this is Carmen, she’s been helping us out at the Big Feed. Is it ok if she stays with us for a couple of days?” Willa turns to Carmen and says, “Why don’t I bring you upstairs to let you get dried off? The bathrooms just next door and there are nice clean clothes in the wardrobe.”
James is sitting at the kitchen table shovelling reheated bean stew into himself. “So cad é an sceal kiddo” Willa asks him as she sits down, “are we harbouring a fugitive?” James rolls his eyes and says, “Don’t be daft Ma, Carmen is a refugee from the US. I told you about her yesterday.”
The numbers seeking asylum from the US had fallen off in the last few months and refugees were beginning to return thanks to the new Henry B. Wallace administration. America’s second civil war has just ended. The people desperately needed a unifying figure that they can get behind and it looks like Wallace may just be that man. Willa included a feature piece on Wallace, the civil war and the impact of the American refugee crisis on the world in last month’s edition of The Voice. Willa is Editor of Dublin’s oldest monthly magazine. Millions of black, Hispanic, Muslim and LBGTQI people had fled to countries across the globe.
“What stage is Carmen’s asylum application at” Willa asks James who shrugs and says, “I dunno Ma, it seemed rude to ask.” As if right on cue Carmen opens the kitchen door with Willa’s youngest on her back whose shouting, “giddy up cowboy, giddy up.” Willa grabs Alroy off the poor woman and pulls out a chair for her. James ever the gentleman is already ladling out a big bowl of stew for Carmen. Alroy is pulling faces and asking for a bun instead.
Carmen plonks Alroy on her knee and turns to Willa, “I’ve just arrived in Ireland so my application should be processed within the next six months. I was a horticulturist back home, that’s why the Immigration Service set me up in the Big Feed. It’s a great fit. They’ll have my temporary apartment ready by the end of the week so I’ll just be here a couple of nights if that’s ok.” Willa reassures Carmen that she can stay as long as she needs and puts a mug of tea down for her. Alroy has asked Carmen what part of America she’s from.
“Charlottesville. My husband and I had a garden centre on the outskirts of the city when the night of the broken windows happened. It wasn’t just black and Hispanic stores that were hit, Muslim and Jewish families were targeted and the gay community. White mobs shouting blood and soil all night long. Armed white supremacists patrolled the streets day and night. We waited it out but in the end we lost everything; the store, the house and all our savings. My husband and I still had distant family in Oaxaca but at this stage the civil war was dug in and millions had fled to Mexico. By the time we got there the borders had closed. José María joined the opposition but was gunned down during an anti-government rally. It took me nearly a year to get to Ireland. So here I am, without José. Everyone has been so kind to me. That gives me strength.”
Young Alroy hadn’t taken his eyes off Carmen and with great big tears in his eyes he hugs her tightly and whispers, “don’t be sad.” James got up from the table and put his hand on Carmen’s shoulder. “My other Ma has a great saying, ‘we are all our brothers’ keeper.’ So if you need anything our family will be here for you.” Willa sits quietly at the end of the table. She has never felt more proud of her two boys. Then Alroy hops onto his big brother, farts on his lap and runs off as James starts roaring at him. Normal business has been resumed.
