Panchita: Listening to my Migrant Mother Talk

I am a 32-year-old woman living in London. I have a hamster and two cats. This is my family.

But, once upon a time, my family also included a petite round woman with dark rimmed spectacles: my mother, Francina Del Carmen Ramirez. She moved to London from Chile in 1987, fleeing the Pinochet dictatorship. I was born a year later. My main memories of growing up with her are of her thick accent, her resilience to the harsh cultural differences and her irrational love for Wimbledon. I remember her pronunciation of words like school  (‘Eschool’) and joke’- (‘Yoke’). She hated the English weather but loved a cup of Horlicks. She missed a good Pastel del Choclo but she was happy to be in a country that provided her with opportunities that Chile could not at the time.

She passed away in 2003.

Last week I received a package from my Tia: a cassette. The case had written on it a note saying ‘1988 from your Panchita’. My mother, one year into her life in London had recorded a tape and sent it to my Tia in Chile, for her ears only. Unfortunately for my mother, it is now for mine and many other ears.

Here goes!

Her voice sounds younger than what I remember. She also sounds way more rational than I am, and more self-assured about her future than I am about mine. She begins by delving into the usual discourse one has when comparing life in the UK with that of a Latin American country: The weather (how bad it is in the UK), the food (where can one find good pan amasado!?), and professional life (where are the jobs?) At one point she reflects on how hard it has been to adjust to life in London financially. On the tape she explains several times how “if you have money in London you will have a wonderful experience, and if you don’t it will be a long fight”. Despite this she kept repeating through the mic: “I am very happy here”.

She joyfully describes to my Tia how she has been picking up words and phrases in her English classes. She pauses for a minute and explains that English people like to say “raining cat and dogs”, clearly finding this highly amusing. Her second great joy is buying homeware for her new flat. She goes on to delightfully list every single item she has acquired since arriving in London: iron, microwave, radio, corkscrew, lipstick.

I mentioned her love for Wimbledon earlier, and the tape definitely reflects this. Her voice enters a high pitch squeal of excitement - “WIM-BLE-DOM!” she exclaims over the recording. There is silence; the TV is blaring in the background and I am able to pick up the grunts from the players and the cheers from the audience. Her complete dedication for the Wimbledon final does not allow her to utter a word for a while. She abruptly turns the tape off, I assume she left to finish watching the game.

Silence.

Distorted sounds.

Then out of nowhere there is a recording. Music! After some Google searches I discovered the songs being played are Chile and Me Gustas Cuando Callas sung by Angel Parra. The third song I know well is Pink Floyd’s Money. My mother loved this song. When I listen to it I am reminded of her, sitting in the kitchen, with the song blaring out from the stereo, and the windows wide open due to the summer heat in our tiny flat.

“COPUCHA, me encanta copucha de Chile” my mother declares half an hour into the recording. Copucha means gossip. Ah yes, this is a trait I remember well and one that I have inherited. She queries about how several people are doing in Chile, twenty names roll off her tongue, none that I recognise. I guess that's one of the aspects of parent-child relationships. Mum and Dad had a life prior to you being born; a life that you may never find out about, and more so if you are living in another country.

Like with any long distance relationship, difficult situations would arise. My mum missed my Tia terribly and her best friend Irma, so she would frequently record tapes for both of them. Eventually, she lost contact with Irma which was always a sore point for her. Gone are the days when you had to go to a phone shop to call internationally and pay extortionate prices. At least now we are lucky enough to have so many ways to stay in contact with our friends and relatives that live elsewhere. I am at least grateful for that.

Listening to my mother’s experience has made me feel slightly dejected. 

I think about how I could have helped her navigate life in this city, if she had met me now. Absurd thought, I know, but these are the feelings that have come into play. London can be a harsh city and for those that are arriving here alone and in need for opportunity, it can be even harsher. I wish I could have been her friend, her support bubble, her confidant. 

My own feelings towards Britain have changed dramatically over the years. I remember being a ten-year-old girl and refusing to speak Spanish because I wanted to be like the English kids. Now, all I want to do is embrace my heritage and Chilean culture. My attempts at making empanadas and Pisco sour haven't been as successful as I wanted; however, listening to the cassette has brought me closer to my Chilean roots, and it has made me understand better why she came here in the first place. Ultimately, the cassette has made me closer to my Chilean Mother.