On a cold Sunday in July, I received an invitation from my partner, a wonderful Ecuadorian woman, to attend a gathering where part of the rich culture of our Peruvian brothers and sisters would be presented.
The land of César Vallejo, with its endless array of colors, had always been a mystery to me. Although I have a Peruvian uncle by marriage, I had never shared stories of his homeland with him. So, the invitation awakened my curiosity, and we decided to go.
After sharing the meal and enjoying, together with my daughter Camila, the delights of Peruvian cuisine, someone asked me: —What would you like to leave for future generations?
It seemed like an easy question. It would have been, among friends. But around that table, many corners of Latin America were represented, and I understood the responsibility involved in answering it. What do I hope for the generations to come? I hope they will be able to free themselves from our prejudices. I am speaking about Uruguay and the way we often look at our immigrant brothers and sisters. I hope our children will grow up without the burden of contempt toward those who are different, toward those who leave their countries in search of a better future for their families. I hope they will be the ones to filter out that old distrust toward “the Indian,” toward those who are neither blond nor blue-eyed, but who will surely be the first to extend a hand to us when we fall. Their ancestors already did so for ours. Some people like their music louder, while we prefer it quieter... although, when there is a barbecue accompanied by good wine or cold beers, we are hardly silent either. Some people speak as if they were singing; others raise their voices. But that, too, is culture. No one should have to give up their culture in order to be accepted.
The time has come for a great agreement: to reaffirm everything we share. Because we are far more alike than we often want to admit. I have hope in children and young people. Every day, they teach us the true power of integration. They do not care whether someone is short, tall, thin, overweight, Black, white, Indigenous, or foreign. They do not ask for passports. They look at people. They see a classmate, never an enemy. They love with the naturalness that we adults so often lose. Our greatest responsibility is to prevent that purity from becoming contaminated by our prejudices, our fears, and our selfishness.
"Let us make that Patria Grande—the Great Homeland—that so many men and women of our America dreamed of, a reality, even if only in some small way. Perhaps they died without ever seeing it as possible. We, in today’s Uruguay, have a historic duty to try."
- Christian Berná