After the war…

Sometimes I catch myself dreaming like the two lovers of Luis de Bernières’ Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. For those unfamiliar with the story, the plot takes place during the Second World War in Cephallonia, a beautiful Greek island. An Italian officer and musician, Antonio Corelli falls in love with the local doctor’s daughter Pelagia. Pelagia loves him back and they have a beautiful relationship despite the mayhem of the war.

As the two lovers managed to occasionally escape their everyday chaos in a remote hut, they sang Italian arias of the 17^th and 18^th century and made plans. “After the war, when we are married” they would start dreaming (p.330). All their dreams and expectations were, naturally, situated in an ideal future with no war. Well, that’s how I catch myself thinking. Of course my situation is much different. I don’t live in a wonderfully beautiful Greek island, I don’t live in the forties, I don’t have real Nazi soldiers outside my door, there’s no occupation, no food rations, and unfortunately no singing of “Alma del core” or “Danza danza fanciulla”.

However, I find myself in an occupation mentality. People are frightened and petty as if there is a real war. They all fear for their possessions and they worry about basic needs such as food. And I project everything in the future like the two characters. Nevertheless, instead of saying “after the war” like Pelagia and Antonio, I say to myself “after the crisis”. That is what everyone else says anyways.

After the crisis we’ll be probably able to employ you. After the crisis you might have a chance to get your writing published. After the crisis you’ll be able to travel. After the crisis you’ll meet the world. After the crisis you’ll create your own independent life.

I look at my tattered copy of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin and I think how horrible life must have been during the war. Hunger, fear for one’s life, destitution. No decency. Unfortunately, I am at the side of the world that has no decency. No pride.  No humanity. We are in war conditions. The only difference is that they will not shoot us in order to break us. I know that it’s much better than having to fight for your life with guns. But I also fear that we might have to fight with guns. And if we do, we’ll be in trouble. If we don’t, we’ll be also in trouble. The situation is so bad I cannot see a viable solution for the future, a future after the crisis, after the war. Violence is unacceptable but how are we to defend ourselves? How are we to defend humanity?

When I say humanity, I don’t mean every human being on this earth. I mean the value of humanity. Compassion, pity, respect, kindness. You know, all these qualities that make this world worth to live in. Capitalism started a war upon workers and their rights, a war upon common people who are merely trying to live in peace. The ones who created this situation are probably comfortably waiting for the right opportunity to start gaining money at our expense again. And I fear that we are going to let them do it again. Therefore, we will fail to protect ourselves and the future generations from the next recession: because there will be another problematic period in the future, it is bound to be, that is how capitalism works. Only if we get rid of this system we’ll be able to be at peace. Of course, there’ll be other problems I guess.

Looking inside me, I realize however, that at least I can dream now. Before, when all this mess started, I couldn’t. I thought that my choices limited me, that my family’s condition limited me, and that my country limited me. Now I still believe that all these factors limit me but with the difference that I now have hope. I hope that this war will be over and like Antonio and Pelagia I find hope in dreams. And in the magic of music. And poetry. And much more. And I rest assured, that even though a lot was taken from me, my head remains intact able to triumph by traveling far, setting goals and struggling to make dreams come true.

So after the war, I will be happy. During the war I’ll try to make the best of it. For me and for everyone around me.

Until then I will follow the example of the brave Italian captain and the equally brave Cephallonian girl of de Bernières.

The edition I refer to is: Luis de Bernières, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin (London: Vintage), 1999.