Home
The journey home
Is worth the work
And the waiting
But keep your eyes wide open
And your ears tuned
For for the traveler and explorer
Never knows
Where moments of home
Might be
Moments of memories find and fill me randomly these days. A synchronous convergence of place and being prompts their bubbling to the surface of consciousness. Then they speak to me and ask if they can be written, wanting to be understood more deeply. The following blogs are records of these moments that I've tried to catch during my settling and sabbatical in Angra do Heroismo, Terceira, Açores, Portugal from 2021-2022. All photos are taken by me, Shannon Bruce Ramaka.
It’s a sunny day in May and perfect for hanging laundry outside. These days are important to catch because the weather can change quickly on the island during spring. The breeze is soft and my old city is noticeably quiet. As I lean over the tiled green balcony with clothes pins clustered in my hands, the chorus of church bells begins. The first sounds travel from the large blue church, the Igreja da Misericórdia, a block away, and which faces the sea. Then the second bell from the famous large pink cathedral, Igreja da Se, chimes in, followed by more modern tones from the bell at Igreja de Santa Luzia that is a few blocks up the hill. The reverberations of the bells cross the historic city of Angra do Heroismo, then melt into the coastline and ride the breeze
back over cobbled streets and ornate concrete buildings to find their way to me standing on my balcony. Then suddenly, but gently, my thoughts are hijacked. I’m transported back to another day; another place and time, across the Atlantic ocean to the continent of Africa.
I’m standing on a white tiled balcony on the third floor of a flat in Bel Air, Gauthier; another historic district, but in Casablanca, Morocco. The noon call to prayer from the iconic Hassan II Mosque waafs through the windows. Male voices, united into one, blows on a warm ocean breeze down the Boulevard Moulay Youssef, then winds through old cobbled streets and over medina walls and colonial concrete buildings, to greet me. From the old french doors of my bedroom, a different chorus of prayers ring in the early mornings before sunrise.
For the two years I lived in the city center of Casablanca, I learned the rhythm of the city through the call to prayer. Now living on Terceira, I am finding that the old church bells are naturally influencing the rhythm of my daily life. From online tutoring lessons to seas shore swims, the constancy and chime of the bells brings a simple stability and harmony to my days.
After my mind has satisfactorily retrieved the old memory and connected my two homes, I suddenly remember, it is the first of May and Mother’s Day in Portugal. I marvel at how big and diverse the world is and how blessed I am to have experienced some of its wonders. I am alone today, a world away from my two grown children and all the thousands of children I have taught across three continents, but this flashback and inner travel fills me with a peaceful contentment. I say to myself for the 100th time, “I feel really at home here.”
An interesting note: Both Angra do Heroismo and Casablanca are Atlantic coastal cities that experienced earthquakes in their history and the subsequent experience of rebuilding afterwards. In 1755, the Sultan Mohammed III of Morocco employed European architects to rebuild Casablanca (Wikipedia). On 1 January, 1980 an earthquake at sea destroyed the city of Angra; the UNESCO status was attributed in 1983 after a national candidacy moved by local initiative, and Portugal only joined the EU (then EEC-European Economic Community) in 1986.
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