II - The X-Men

The two young men had met almost two years ago, in one of the many house parties that coloured Leeds academic life. None of them would have been able to remember exactly whose party it was though, or when exactly it took place. It was just one of many parties, one of an infinity of nights out, drinking, having fun, meeting people, that every student experiences during their time at University, especially when they move out of their parent’s house to study.

            Leeds, specifically, was a great place to attend University. It was small, but not too small. It was as cheap as England can be, definitely much cheaper than London. It was relatively safe and it had one of the biggest student populations in the country. In fact, for someone like Leonardo, the whole city could seem at times like one big campus, since his time was spent entirely either on campus, in the city centre or one of the student neighbourhoods.

The great majority of students lived either on campus, or in one of three student neighbourhoods: Woodhouse, Hyde Park or Headingley. Woodhouse and Hyde Park were closer to the University, Headingley was closer to the rugby stadium, had many bars and restaurants and was a bit nicer overall. Living on campus was very convenient, but that meant living in one of the University halls, which were usually reserved to first-years and exchange students from foreign universities. Leonardo and Jean-Pierre both lived in Woodhouse, five minutes from each other.

The night they met both of them were a bit tipsy, as it is customary in any house party in Leeds or in any other student town in the western world.

Someone introduced them to each other and they exchanged names:

‘Hi, my name is Leonardo.’

‘Hey, I’m Jean-Pierre. I’m from Belgium. Where are you from?’

Out of all the questions of the world, this was Leonardo’s least favourite one. He never quite knew how to answer it.

‘I’m Brazilian… sort of’, he said.

The tall black guy in front of him looked at him slightly confused, ‘what do you mean, sort of? Are you from Brazil or not?’

‘Yes, I am. I was born there. The thing is, I actually grew up in Portugal, and I’ve lived in a few other countries before coming here… so I’m not really sure what I am…’

‘I see… I actually thought you were American, you sound American… did you ever live there?’

‘No… it’s just… I’m one of those kids who were raised by television… I used to watch a lot of American TV series and movies, I still do. I guess that’s why I sort of sound American. I’m a product of globalization/Americanization. I grew up listening to all my heroes speaking American, so I think that’s why I sort of sound like them. But not quite… I guess I’m like one of those ancient artefacts that you buy in a Moroccan street market for a decent amount of money, believing you have a great deal in your hands, but that you find out straight away that you were tricked as soon as you realize that everyone else has one that looks exactly like yours. Then when you wash it a couple of times the paint comes of and you can see its made of plastic instead of real ceramic.’

Jean-Pierre smiled, showing off his immaculate white teeth, made even whiter by his skin, which was black as coal. Than he said something Leonardo was not expecting to hear not even a million years from a random guy he just met at a party:

  ‘What if you got it wrong man? What if you’re the exact opposite? Perhaps you are the rare artefact in the Moroccan market, which looks just like all the other copies but is actually the real thing. Even the salesman doesn’t know you’re the real thing so he sells you at normal price. But what he doesn’t know is that he is selling a unique piece that is unlike any of the others. This one is not made of plastic, this one is five-hundred-years-old. This one is worth more than all of the other ones put together times one thousand. Being different may be a curse, but you are all the more interesting because of that. I mean, look around, this house is crowded with people. This street is crowded with houses. This city is full of streets. This planet is crammed with cities, cars, pollution, buildings made out of concrete and glass and shatters made of plastic and tin. The world is over-populated with six billion people who will turn into twelve in a decade or two. Who has time for normal people these days anyways? … Do you like the X-Men?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You know, the X-Men…Wolverine, Storm, Professor X, Magneto, Cyclopse… those guys.’

‘Yeah, although Magneto is not an X-Men, he’s their enemy’, said the geek inside of Leonardo straight away.

‘Whatever… He’s still a mutant. I like the X-Men too. And why are the X-Men so interesting?’

‘…Because they have super-powers.’

‘Wrong. They are COOL because they have super-powers. They are STRONG because they have super-powers. They are SUPER-HEROES because they have super-powers. But what makes them interesting is the fact that they are different. They are not like anyone else. They’re their own thing. Everyone hates them because of that, everyone hates them because they are different, people are jealous of them because they are special.’

‘Sorry, I’m a bit lost here…’

‘You’re a mutant. Just like the X-Men. The only difference is that you don’t have any super-powers or maybe you just haven’t discovered them yet. People will hate you, they will exclude you, they will make you feel different. What you need to do is to embrace it. If you’re a mutant you’re a mutant, for the better and for the worse. Don’t try to be something you’re not just because you want to fit in. Remember, there are already too many people in this world who are all too willing to fit in.’

Jean-Pierre was a mutant too. His family had come to Europe from Africa many decades ago, finally settling in Belgium where Jean was born and where he grew up. But even if he was Belgian by birth, upbringing and citizenship, the colour of his skin made him different in the eyes of many of his compatriots and fellow Europeans.

Leonardo sometimes remembered something Jean had said to him on his sense of identity. He told him, ‘when I’m in Belgium people look at me funny. They see I’m black and they assume I’m different from them, they think I’m not Belgian. Even though I was born there, even though that is my home. Then when I go back to the Congo, to visit my relatives who still live there, they treat me differently as well. ‘They call me “the European boy”, “the Belgian boy.’ No matter where I am, I’m always different, I’m never one of them’.  

   Leonardo understood perfectly what he meant. Never belonging to the community, never being one of them. Jean and Leonardo liked each other straight away because both could understand what being different all the time was like. They were both mutants, like the X-Men.

The Traveller is listening to: 

Lonely Day (System of a Down, 2005)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnGdoEa1tPg

I - Nomad

Today the sun is shining bright, a quite unusual event when it comes to Leeds, England.

            Many students rejoice under this most rare but equally welcome guest on this early summer day, coffee or beer in hand. Although a few stragglers still have their last exams ahead of them, to the majority this day represents a well-deserved rest after a whole year of gruelling work.

              The setting is the terrace bar, one of the two pubs in the Leeds Student Union, located at the heart of the main campus of the University of Leeds, one of England’s most respected universities. A quick look at the faces of the many students in the bar reveals a number of different origins. This is a global university that attracts students from many different nations from the four corners of the world.

            One of these students is the main character of our story. Twenty-four-year-old Leonardo.  He struts through the bar bearing a smile full of pride. He can’t help it - he just finished the last exam of his academic life. If everything goes according to plan, this is it; he has ceased to be a student and is now officially a graduate.

            At the bar he orders a celebratory pint of Guinness. Usually he would stick to ordering something on the cheaper side: a pint of Fosters or Carslberg, or maybe even a Latte or a glass of cranberry juice, since it’s barely past eleven-thirty. Today, though, is not just any other day. Today is the happiest day of his life thus far. After years of hard work he has finally done it: he graduated! He’s still not sure about what comes next, how he’ll earn a living, where he is going to live… but none of that matters now. The important thing is that the exams are over, there are no more essays to be handed in and he can have his Guinness under the sun and relax for the first time in weeks.  

            On the terrace, he sends a quick text: ‘I’m done dude. Meet me at the Terrace when you can.’ He takes a sip of his dark beer and feels his whole body unwind. The beer feels good and cold inside; he’s relaxed now, but his wrists are still tired from all the writing. His last exam was Meta-ethics. ‘As much as I’ll miss you, meta-ethics, you were a pain in the ass to finish,’ he thought.  His degree is Politics and Philosophy, a thinker’s degree. It suits him. Leonardo is not a pragmatic person; he never has been. He has always been a thinker, an idealist at heart. Deep down there is only one thing that he wants to do next with his life, the thing he has always wanted to do: make the world a better place.  Yes, it may sound cheesy, but it’s what would give his life meaning. He doesn’t know how to do that, though, and that’s the problem.  He shakes that thought off. Right now in this very moment, he thinks, I’m going to cast aside all these doubts.  Today is the beginning of a new era!  Time to celebrate!

As he sips his beer, he lets his mind wander over his whole life. 

Leonardo was born in Rio de Janeiro, but he is not a real Brazilian. He’s a nomad. He doesn’t truly belong anywhere, he doesn’t really live anywhere and he doesn’t really exist anywhere. He is a ghost. He is a traveller. He humps from country to country, meeting several different people from different cultures, but he never really belongs. He never will. He has spent most of his life studying to one day become a useful member of society, to become some sort of expert at something. What they call these days a qualified worker. The problem is that he has never really figured out exactly what he wants to become.

At the young impressionable age of 6, Leonardo moved to Lisbon where he would spend the next 12 years of his life alternating between the earnest, well-behaved student and the bantering hooligan giving his poor teacher hell.  High school wasn’t too bad; he carried some great memories of rabble rousing with his buds in the park after school, or the time when he found Marta’s folder outside class and brought it back to her.  He thought of his bumbling, awkward reply to her gratitude: “Oh anytime I can help you, I’d be so happy to do it, you know, because, that’s what I like to do, is to help you – er - people.” He wasn’t exactly the smoothest with the ladies, specially not back then.

When he finished high school, he knew it was time to leave Lisbon, despite the close friendships he had established that had endured those uncertain years of adolescence.  Spain seemed like a good choice. He eagerly enrolled at the Faculty of Law in Salamanca, ready to start his academic career and change the world.  But after three years he just didn’t feel like it was right. There was something missing. He had to leave again. So he went to Italy, to Rome, where he studied Italian for almost a whole year.

But the inevitable happened yet again: he felt it was time to get away. Once more he chose to run away. After a period of considerable uncertainty he landed in England, where he would start a new degree. Philosophy this time, in the University of Leeds. For the first time in a while, he felt like he had found some degree of stability. He did well and with all probability he had just finished his degree.

Jolted back into the now, with a degree in Philosophy, several years of legal studies and the experience of having lived in five countries, he knows he is ready more than ever to hit the road once more. He speaks four languages, is a graduate of a respectable University and has absolutely no idea of what he is going to do with his life. Awesome.

           

Half-a-pint later a tall black guy parks himself across from Leonardo and places a pint of his own on the table.

The two look at each other as grins spread widely across their faces. The guy lifts his pint as Leonardo mirrors him.

‘Cheers!’

‘Cheers man. To a new beginning!’ declares Leonardo.

‘To a new beginning.’ They clash their beers and drink.   

  

Soundtrack:
Imagine (John Lennon, 1971)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLgYAHHkPFs