One country, four nations

"Britain is an invented nation".

Peter Scott, Knowledge and Nation, 1990.

Today I was going to write something soft and easy to digest for the weekend, but then I read a news and changed my mind.

In Portugal we really have it easy as far as our national identity is concerned. We have a certain North/South rivalry and we have the discrepancies between a richer urban country and a poorer rural one. But in terms of nationality we all know we are Portuguese. We have a national football team that makes us all suffer or explode of happiness, we have a common History, a common and uniform language (even if we recognise two official languages), we have a homogeneous religious tradition and we have the oldest established borders in the Old World.

Just across our borders there's a state in which, to this very day, several national identities have been forced to coexist in not always a peaceful situation. And in Great Britain things are not better. There's the infamous and endless Irish Question, there's the pride of the Scotts holding firm to their traditions and to the Church of Scotland (a presbyterian Protestant faith), there's Wales and its celtic language that no one understands and there's England the nation that managed to forge, create and rule a country called Great Britain.

This incident happened just now. In Wales, an Irish truck driver was involved in a car accident with a Welsh woman. As usual in these circumstances people say a lot of crazy things in the heat of the moment. As such the truck driver called the lady in question: "You English bitch!". Most offended, the lady prosecuted the lorry driver.

Last Tuesday, the sentence was announced. The truck driver was sentenced to 10 weeks in jail, suspended for 12 months and ordered to pay the 200 pounds of judicial costs for racist behaviour! The lady was not offended she was called a "bitch", but for having been called "English" when she's in fact Welsh. In a country very uncomfortable about a forced nationality, political correctness comes at a high price.

Just imagine if all alentejanos were offended on account of all the jokes about them! Or if people in Beiras were to prosecute those who make fun of their pronunciation! Or if people called us "saloios"! In fact, we are very lucky that D. Afonso Henriques kicked out the Moors and the Spaniards and made us a country.

A rich country indeed!

For the second time this week I am forced to admit that Portugal is a rich country!
First I find out that our Presidency takes in more money than the most glamorous European monarchies and now we all realise that the deal over Cahora Bassa fell short of our best expectations (provided we still had any expectations, of course!).

Therefore, no other evidences are going to prove me that this is not a bountiful country submerged in wealth.

Colonial empires left a toll all over the world and the present is still trying to make amends for a past that is not likely to be forgotten, let alone forgiven, within the very next generations. Cahora Bassa, no matter what might be said today, still represents a reminescence of the colonial power that ruled over Mozambique for centuries (even if Mozambique sought the economic advantages of another, and even greater, colonial power when it joined the Commonwealth of Nations in the 1990s, but that is, to my mind, one of those tremendous historical ironies).

However, Cahora Bassa also represents massive investments of a country in a foreign land, no matter if it was a colony or later a fully-fledged independent state. Portugal invested in human resources, in technology and, last but never the least, in capital. Besides this, it was also the major shareholder of the Hidroeléctrica de Cahora Bassa.

In the meantime, Mozambique has claimed a right in the shares of the company, a right which I entirely understand not only on grounds of a recent history, but also on account of the defrauded economy of the country. What I don't understand is how the Portuguese government lost 80 million Euros in this business just like that.

To my knowledge there are reputed economists in the government, then there are advisors and special study committees, so why did no one see it coming that the dollar lost face value to the Euro? Yes, this process has been announced over the last years and took no one by surprise. Then, part of the money the Portuguese state should receive went to a pardon of the huge international debt Mozambique has (this in itself is another tricky subject: pardon or no pardon to African debts). In a nutshell, it seems to me that we will get something not far from peanuts with the selling of our shares. Right, we still hold 15% of shares, a symbolic connection between Portugal and Cahora Bassa. But, in the end, we lost the dam, we lost the business and probably we lost some face too.

We are a rich nation, 80 million more, 80 million less is certainly not going to make an impact in our finances and in our Treasury.

In a Country of "Camones"

Now, here is something worthy of inscription in the log (remember, the diary on the web?). Indeed this is one of those occurences that, had we no blogs, and would go down unnoticed in History as just another incident in the daily routine of a desperate housewife.

As such, good ol' desperate housewife here needed to go shopping and off she went to one of those mega supermarkets, not very happy with a chore that involves choosing apples, sorting out packages of soya milk and facing the ever difficult task of deciding which yoghurt flavours to take. The mood was not exactly the best, I confess, but it was put through harder strains on noticing that Christmas decorations are already there and guess what?, the inscriptions on the decorations of that particular supermarket were all in English!

"Merry Christmas" they said! Not one, not two, but a series of extra large balls with fake mistletoe and fake pine folliage hanging over the heads of clients. What a show!

Last time I checked this was still Portugal (I guess it was because some cordial civil servant was charging me 80 Euros for a document that said I'm really Portuguese). And if this is Portugal, how come they have the decorations in English, for goodness sake?

I know I work, speak, write, think and even dream in English (not my fault I'm a product of multilingualism), but this is still Portugal, not an imperial emporium of English!

Will the folks there in Britain write "Boas Festas" in their Christmas decorations? Or will Americans hang decorations with "Feliz Natal" in Times Square? Just a thought on the daily routine of a desperate housewife...

Besides, what's this compared to the excellent, I'd even say visionary, deal the Portuguese government made out of Cahora Bassa or the forthcoming summit between the EU and African leaders?

Le Glamour de la République

We are a rich country!

And just when I had forgotten all about it and was here thinking of how poor and downtrodden the Portuguese population seems to be these days, my cleaning lady refreshed my memory. We are indeed a rich country!

Every week, and most faithfully, my cleaning lady, who obviously thinks I am a very strange creature that needs to be informed of whatever important goes on in the world, leaves me a pile of society magazines on the kitchen table. Every week, and most faithfully, I leave the pile accumulate. When the pile is so huge I am ashamed to have it there for her to see I don't read any of that, I go through the pages of the top layer magazines just to be able to keep pace with her. All of this to say that: first, this news took me by surprise, second, this is probably something everybody (but a dumm blonde with some unspeakable phd) already knew.

And so, in one of those magazines about glittering lives of scandal and much philosophical thinking, I got to know an amasing reality: our Republic is one very glamorous institution!

In Britain, the monarchy costs each Briton 91.5 cents a year. So far so good. The British Monarchy has to attend the needs of representation in the Commonwealth, the Royal Family has many members and it is a centuries-old institution caught up in expensive traditions and rituals. No surprise here.

In Spain, each one of "nuestros hermanos" pays 19 cents a year to keep up the Monarchy. Nothing wrong here. The Spanish monarchs have only recently reasserted the throne and it is a low-profile Monarchy.

In Portugal, each one of us pays 1,58 Euros for the Presidency. Hold it there!

I confess that when I read this I turned on the thinking neuron and tried to get the logic of these figures (numbers that is).

"Ok, we've got to think proportionally. The Spaniards are 50 odd million and we are some thousands short of 10, it's logical we should pay more".

Relieved for having had an intelligent thought I went on reading.

The Spanish government pays the Monarchy 9 million Euros a year. The Portuguese government pays the Presidency 16 million Euros a year. Stop it there again! There's something fishy in here!

How come does the Spanish Monarchy, with all the official commitments of the Royals, survive on a budget of 9 million and our Republic needs almost double of that? Besides, how can a country of 10 million souls, less than a third of the Spanish territory, less diplomatic representation and protagonism and a crisis going on spend 16 million Euros on the Presidency?

Aren't we a rich, glamorous country?

P. S. - Who said we don't learn anything from society magazines?

Giving Thanks

"And so during these holiday seasons, we thank our blessings"
President Bush, Fort Belvoir, Virginia, Dec. 10, 2004.

Yes, today is Thanksgiving, that most cherished of American holidays (even more than Christmas) celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November to give thanks for whatever Americans think is important and genuinely representative of their way of life: a dettached in suburbia, money in the bank, a Chevy in the garage, picket fences outside the yard, the stars and stripes afloat, oil in Alasca, oranges in Florida and, last, but not in anyway least, Miss Teen South Carolina!
After a tantalising year, I believe Americans are happy they made it just another year! The Clintons have prepared succesion, ethnic minorities are paving the way to the White House with Obama, Giuliani wants some piece of the action, mortgage interest rates went sky high, Schwarzzie had his hands full in California, Dubbya was at his usual best, gas prices rocketed and the fellows in Iraq got their asses kicked on a daily basis. Indeed there's a lot to be thankful for.
We shall see what next year brings in terms of thankfulness. Will Gore end the taboo? What great new Bushisms will there be to mark the President's last year in office? Will the fellows in Iraq still get their butts kicked? I can't hardly wait!
One thing I'm certain... I'm sure gonna miss 'em Bushisms! So, today, of all days, I'm thankful for the joy the Texan Cowboy in the White House has brought the world!

Just Barely...

I'm a girl, true (and girls don't know much about football, quite so).

I write in English, it's a fact.

I wasn't born in this country (tough luck, there's nothing I can do about it).

I think, feel, write and speak about the negative things of this country (right 90% of times).

But if there's something I am is patriotic!

I listen to the national anthem (composed by a German, by the way) and I get goose skin all over. It's cathartic. And I proudly say that there's no Marseillese, no God Save the Queen, no Deutschland über alles that sounds as powerful or beautiful as our Portuguesa. That's is why I feel I've been cheated on my feelings.

I watched the game, just as I watch all important games, and I didn't like it one bit. I don't care about strategy, opportunities, luck, technicalities and I couldn't care less. Let experts talk about all that. All I care is that, from my perspective, this was taken light-heartedly.

I'm very happy we've made it to Euro 08 (and even happier that the English didn't - cherry on top of the cake! Sorry for the chauvinism). But we could have made it better. We could have been the best. We could have been grand. And all we were was average.

We're talking about highly-skilled professionals who are princely paid to do what they do, the least we can expect is professionalism. (I should say, the least we can ask of them, is professionalism). And I sure as hell can't tolerate that someone who gets paid to serve our interests (also magnanimously paid) comes with arrogance at us. I do not admit such lack of respect. And besides, just out of politeness at least, there are things we can think and not verbalise, specially when we're public figures or serve national causes.

Everybody can, and should, obviously, be happy we qualified. I just don't like it when people don't give their best. I feel disrespected as a citizen that tries her best each day together with millions of other fellow citizens.

To lose after a good fight is honourable (I remember when we lost against France back in the 80s when Platini still played, don't remember the year, but I was about 10 or so and that was a great, vibrant, exciting game, we really played our best and it was probably the first time I felt what patriotism means). To qualify just because, well... we just barely made it.

The Log!

I got to know this one just now and thought I might share it (even if I presume I was the only one that didn't know this basic of basics).

Follow me through my ignorance.

We all have our nice, wonderful, very special blogs that we love so dearly. On my part, I thought that blog was just another tech brand-name, whose meaning only wizz kids knew. Ok, I admit "internet" is an easy and reconisable noun: international network, nothing special about it, but blog?

Here it is then:

Web - no need to explain.

Log - Official record of events during the voyage of a ship or aircraft; regular or systematic of incidents or observations. (It's what we see ship captains doing on movies about pirates and the like).

So: web + log = weblog

And then language is a wonderful mysterious thing and we, the speakers, got "blog"! Fabulastic, isn't it?

Therefore:

Blog - web site on which an individual or group of users produces an ongoing narrative; a log (regular record or diary) on the web.

Amasing! I'm sorry, it's the thrill of discovery!