Palm Trees in the Snow
Page 60
Last, in order to explain the sections given over to the growing of cocoa, I used different manuals and, more specifically, the article “Un buen cacao que se llama Sampaka,” which appeared in 1957 in the special issue Nuestra Guinea of La Actualidad Española magazine, where my father appears in nearly all the photos.
2. For the Bubi history, culture, religion, and traditions, I found especially useful the book Los bubis en Fernando Poo by Father Antonio Aymemí, who lived on the island as a Claretian Fathers Catholic missionary from 1894 until his death in 1941. It was published in 1942 as a collection of a series of articles that he wrote for the La Guinea Española magazine. As copies of the book are not to be found, I have used Colleen Truelsen’s 2003 translation in English, titled The History and Culture of an Endangered African Tribe, for the setting of the fictional village of Bissappoo. As the 2003 edition explains, the second generation of Bubis in exile have found their way from Spain to the United States, and that is why I decided for my novel that Fernando Laha would work in California, a place I know well. Truelsen recognizes that without knowing Spanish, it is very difficult to find information on the cultural history of the Bubis.
Other texts consulted were the following: A través de la magia bubi: Por las selvas de Guinea by José Manuel Novoa (1991); Los bubis, ritos y creencias by Father Amador Martín del Molino (1989), a Claretian missionary who lived with the Bubis for twenty-four years; the aforementioned magazine La Guinea Española, published by the Claretian Fund; and the official webpage of the Movement for Self-Determination for Bioko Island, where information appears on the history of the Bubis.
Finally, the previously mentioned books Aproximación a la historia de Guinea Ecuatorial by Justo Bolekia Boleká (2003) and El Laberinto Guineano by Emiliano Buale Borikó (1989) were especially useful in helping me focus on the political aspects directly related to the island of Fernando Po and the Bubis.
3. Given that the character of Clarence is a university linguistics lecturer and is interested in African-Hispanic, Equatorial Guinean, and Spanish literature and the literary output from Equatorial Guinea, I will mention the following documents and authors that have also helped me: La formación de identidad en la novela hispano-africano: 1950—1990 by Jorge Salvo (2003), lecturer in Spanish at the University of South Carolina and also author of several articles related to this subject; Literatura emergente en español: Literatura de Guinea Ecuatorial by Shosténe Onomo-Abena and Joseph Désiré Otabela Mewolo (2004); “La literature Africana de expression castellana: La creación literaria en Guinea Ecuatorial” by Mbaré Ngom (1993), from Morgan State University in Maryland; and “La creación semántica y léxica en el español de Guinea Ecuatorial,” the doctoral thesis of Issacar Nguen Djo Tiogang (2007). I also consulted various articles by the following authors: Mariano L. de Castro Antolín, chair of geography and history in Valladolid and author of works on the history of Equatorial Guinea and the relationship between Guinea and Spain; Humberto Riochí, spokesperson for the Movement for Self-Determination for Bioko Island (MIAB) in 2009; Michael Ugarte, lecturer in Spanish literature in the University of Missouri; Juan Tomás Ávila Laurel, writer, editor-in-chief of Malabo’s El Patio magazine, and guest speaker in several North American universities; Carlos González Echegaray, renowned Spanish Afrophile; and Germán de Granda, who has worked on the languages of Equatorial Guinea.
Specifically on the Spanish spoken in Equatorial Guinea, it’s worth mentioning the articles by Sosthéne Onomo-Abena and Aminou Mohamadou from the Yaounde I University (Cameroon). Mohamadou has an article on spaguifrenglish, as a language made up of marks from the different languages it lives with: Spanish, Guinean—from the large ethnic groups of Fang, Bubi, Annobonese, Benga, Ndowé—French, and English. And of course, I must mention John M. Lipski, chair in linguistics at the University of Pennsylvania and specialist in dialectology, contact languages, Creole languages, and African elements in Spanish and Portuguese. His magnificent article “The Spanish of Equatorial Guinea: Research on la Hispanidad’s Best-Kept Secret” is what Clarence would probably have read when starting her linguistic research in Guinea, had she ever carried it out.
With regard to the literary production related to Equatorial Guinea—from the precolonial period, characterized by its oral nature; from the colonial, represented by descriptions of the exotic; and from the postcolonial, both from the unhappy memory period and the beginnings of native literary creation, of collections of stories and legends and of new narrative works and essays—and so that the reader might have some idea of its importance, I would recommend the very interesting paper by Justo Bolekia Boleká, which appears in the 2005 Central Virtual Cervantes Annuary, and the works of Mbaré Ngom Fayé and Donato Ndongo-Biyogo. Ndongo-Biyogo, the Guinean journalist, historian, essayist, author of the novels Las tinieblas de tu memoria negra and Los poderes de la tempestad, and expert on Spanish modern literature in Equatorial Guinean, published in 1984 the indispensable Antología de la literatura de Guinea Ecuatorial, an anthology of the authors and their narrative, poetic, and drama works.
In a different section from the works produced by the native Equatorial Guineans are the works written by Spaniards after their stay in Guinea. I know there are some more—I have yet to read El corazón de los pájaros by Elsa López (2001) and see the film Lejos de África by Cecilia Bartolomé (1996)—but these are the ones that I have read and have helped me in the setting of my novel: En el país de los bubis by José Más (written in 1919 and reedited in 2010); Manto verde bajo el sol by V. López Izquierdo (1973); El Valle de los bubis by Maria Paz Díaz (1998); La casa de la palabra by José A. López Hidalgo (1994); Al sur de Santa Isabel by Carles Decors (2002); the hard and unsettling Guinea by Fernando Gamboa (2008); Una historia Africana by Javier Reverte (2009); La aventura de Muni (Tras las huellas de Iradier: La historia blanca de Guinea Ecuatorial) by Miguel Gutiérrez Garitano (2010); and the aforementioned Fernando el africano by Fernando García Gimeno (2004).
My novel adds, therefore, to the long list of books about Equatorial Guinea, something that pleases me deeply. Clarence and Iniko coincide in that they form part of a long chain that includes both their forebearers and those yet to come. In the same way, this novel forms part of a long chain of written and yet-to-be-written words about the history of Equatorial Guinea. Not only that, I hope that the reader can get to know or recognize a culture and a different historical, political, and social context that is both close and distant, and I also hope that the Equatorial Guinean reader gets to know something about those who went to their country, the reasons why they went, my valley and its customs, and the changes we have lived through.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Justo Bolekia Boleká, Equatorial Guinean intellectual of Bubi extraction; chair of French language in the University of Salamanca; author of numerous articles, books of essays, and linguistic and sociolinguistic publications; expert in Bubi language, culture, and anthroponomy; poet; politician; and historian, for granting me the privilege of his revision of a novel such as this, where there is a little bit of everything he is an expert in. I owe the corrections of the Bubi and Pidgin English dialogues and expressions to him (for the expressions in Pidgin English, I had used the dictionary my father and grandfather took with them, a 1919 edition, the same one that Kilian reads on his first trip by sea). I must also thank him for his clarifications on Bubi traditions and culture, as well as for his revision of the historical and political aspects. And I would like to especially mention his kindness in allowing me to use the Bubi story entitled “Wewèöbuaaröó” that Fernando Laha relates to Daniela and that is published in his collection of Bubi stories. But most of all, I must thank him for his gracious words in showing me his gratitude for allowing him to enjoy this continuous journey from Pasolobino to Bioko.
To Ismael Lamora and Mari Pe Solana, who lived for many years in Fernando Po, and to José Antolín, who worked for Spanish National Television on the island just after independence, for all their anecdotes
and memories of that period.
To Luis Acevedo for bringing Sampaka closer to my mountains and for persevering in his efforts on the plantation.
To José María Mur for infecting me with his desire to learn about the past, for helping me in my research, and for bringing me fresh news of his trip to Guinea, news also brought to me by Brother Josean Villalabeitia.
To Maruja de San Lucas for helping me out on fashion and menu issues from past decades.
To Fernando García Gimeno for being the best guardian of the details and descriptions of some years that would have been forgotten without him and for kindly answering all my questions.
To Ana Corell, Pedro Aguaviva, and Felisa Ferraz for their judicious and useful comments on the first draft.
To Ramón Badía Vidal for his first impressions of the novel, his professionalism, and his understanding.
To Cristina Pons for her wise, accurate, opportune, and indispensable advice, without which this novel would not have reached a successful port. But most of all, for helping me to fearlessly ascend the slope of the fevers.
And finally, to my editor, Raquel Gisbert, for believing in this project and for offering me the exceptional and exciting possibility of allowing my novel to see the light of day. Thanks to her, I can very specially dedicate it—as a humble tribute—to those from here who lived there and to their descendants and to those from there who had to live with those from here and to their descendants.
I hope we can all understand one another a little better.
Anciles, September 2011
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Luz Gabás was born in 1968 in the city of Monzón, Spain. After spending a year in San Luis Obispo in California, she studied in Zaragoza, Spain, where she graduated with a degree in English literature. She later became a professor at the university. For years she has combined her academic work with translation projects, writing articles and literary and linguistic research and participating in cultural, theatrical, and cinematic projects. She moved to the beautiful town of Anciles in 2007 and lives next to the Benasque villa, where she now spends most of her time writing. Her debut novel, Palm Trees in the Snow, was a bestseller upon publication in Spain and was adapted into a major motion picture.
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Noel Hughes was born in 1967 in Dublin, Ireland. After a degree in history and economics from University College Dublin, he spent many years in the business world before deciding to move to Spain in 2006 and concentrate on English teaching and translation projects.