Let them eat banana bread

Aunt Mary again

My Aunt Mary worked for the CIA, and had friends who worked for the State Department. One of her friends -- call him Gerald so we have a name to use -- was stationed in Colombia at the beginning of his career in the 1950s. He loved Bogota, and went for long walks through the city, talking to people. Part of his job was to understand Colombia, and sometimes he found it hard to tell the difference between work and play. He loved what he was doing, whichever it was.

One beautiful day, there was a demonstration in the streets, and protesters marched past the American Embassy on the way to government offices. All the staff watched, and chatted a bit. At one point, there was some kind of incident that made the march stop for a while, and so it was easy for the American spectators to hear the chanting and singing. They didn’t hear a snatch from this group and a scrap from that group; they only heard the demonstrators stalled in front of the embassy, singing clearly. “Listen!” said the military attache. “They’re singing the Internationale!” (The “Internationale” was a French protest song that became the anthem of the Communist Party in the Soviet Union. If the Colombian protesters were singing Communist songs, that would be interesting during the Cold War.)

But Gerald spoke up. “No, that’s not the Internationale. That’s the Colombian national anthem!” Everybody turned around to stare at him.

Young Gerald, the junior member of the staff, was the only person in the embassy who recognized the national anthem of their hosts.

Sometimes you listen to Americans fussing about Latino immigrants, and you realize that the fussers have no idea why there is any emigration going on. Why are all these people moving, anyway? There is a Marie Antoinette “let them eat cake” feeling about it. (Sometimes.) But when I watch Latino friends, I don’t see them get angry about it. They are used to it. After all, if you want to explain it to an American (an Anglo Norte Americano, that is -- “Latinos” are Americans), where do you start?