This statue in Marco de Canaveses caught my eye when we were there in February, because I could guess what it was about before looking at the title. It reminded me of the statues at the top of São Félix in Póvoa de Varzim, except without young children.
I don’t know who the sculptor is, but I try to imagine what goes through the mind of an artist who attempts to portray the emigrant situation through their faces, body language, what they’re carrying and how they’re carrying it. Are they excited? Afraid? Hopeful? Anxious? Worried?
This is a group of adults and they seem to be hopeful except two have hands grasped tight, other hands look clenched. Two are looking up and one is looking down. Their feelings are probably very mixed, shown in mid-stride with purpose yet perhaps the confidence is forced. Like the saying: “Fake it ’til you make it.” It’s open to interpretation, of course. But the phrase holds true anywhere.
Since emigration is typically an economic decision, there’s usually some reluctance to leave. After all, life is more than work. But this is a head versus heart decision, and while the head calculates, the heart breaks. The Portuguese are a very sentimental people.
An interesting part of the sculpture is when you see the back: presumably, this is a house and they’re leaving it behind. Leaving the Motherland behind, plus family, friends, and a certain level of security — if not in work, in a sense of belonging and being a part of the culture.
It takes serious guts to do this, putting yourself into an unfamiliar environment and not knowing if a return is on the horizon. It’s been a recurring conversation that’s lasted my whole life, starting with my parents who made the decision to immigrate to Canada with two small children and one on the way. I’ve continued this pattern (without the spouse and kids) from one generation to the next, from one country to five more. I may have done it differently, but the motivations and the emotions are still there, fighting it out inside.
Since I post about Portugal all the time, I regularly receive messages from the diaspora. Not just emigrants, but first-generation and even second-generation Portuguese abroad. It’s been enlightening to see what foods evoke nostalgia, and how connected the Portuguese are to their hometowns. It’s more than supporting the local football club or the national team, it’s something much stronger than that. Some call it saudade. I don’t know the Portuguese language well enough to comment on that, but I can say that if this statue had a soundtrack, it would probably be a fado song.
February 25, 2017
Album: Marco de Canaveses, Portugal
