My Snake Skin

 

Once upon a time – a long long time ago – there was and was not, a little girl traveling over the big big ocean on a big big ship, as big as a village, or even bigger. She was not alone however. Her mother, father and brother were there too. On this boat life seemed strange and boring. All around were grey sky and ocean, sometimes blue. And waves, nothing else. People speaking all kind of languages, sitting in deck chairs, reading, bundled up. But when they land, it becomes interesting. Finally, they have arrived on this other continent. The family is going to live in the south of Brazil, far far from Germany.  A new life.  In a simple small home. And a yard with banana, mulberry, goiaba (guava), maracujá and orange trees, date palms and many bright big flowers. Magic all around. The little girl is called Jutta. She feels very close to her brother Heiner who is one year younger. They play outside all the time. It is balmy, sometimes hot, lots of sun. And rain, too, so much green. They live right next to the jungle. Humming birds, armadillos, snakes, parakeets, macaws, ocelots, owls, visit and tell stories. Jutta and Heiner are in heaven.

One late afternoon, playing in sand and mud, their mother shouts from the kitchen window in a very loud, shrill voice: “Don’t move! Hold still – don’t move!” Jutta and Heiner freeze. Then father and another worker rush into the yard with a big shovel and a pistol. They kill the big wild snake, so close to Jutta and Heiner, waiting to pounce on the two little kids. Or maybe not? Is she just curious, or friendly?  Jutta and Heiner have to stay inside the house. Being a boa constrictor, the snake could still be moving, they are told. Night and the next morning have to arrive to be sure that there are no more reflexes in the boa’s powerful muscle body. What a beautiful snake. How exciting – they survived.

Such is the story I tell visitors. The nine feet long snake skin hanging above my couch in the living room always elicits questions. Like: is that a real snake skin? What kind of snake?

My grandparents arrive from Germany, staying in Brazil for eight years. My grandfather, a farmer and agricultural expert, borrowed money from his wife’s parents – my great grandparents who have emigrated to California two years earlier – to buy some land. He takes his young family for a new start overseas. How bold. What makes him do this? Why emigrate? Is it existential despair? To this day I wonder. The small piece of land he purchased is however non-existent. To provide for the family, he has to work as a farm laborer. A third child is on the way. They live very simply. For Jutta it is the best time of her life. But my grandma Ruth tires of the poverty, gets homesick, and the family returns to Germany in 1938. Only to endure war, disaster, and tragedy.

The stories of my ancestors keep on snaking through the historical turmoil in excruciating and dizzying turns.  Soon after the war, just eight years later, my grandfather who was never drafted in the army, dies tragically at age 47. (A complex story to be told another time). Right then, Mama’s beloved brother Heiner returns to Brazil – alone, at age 17. He leaves behind his mother and younger brother Peter in East Germany, and my Mama in Munich, West Germany. The family is split far apart. Heiner is working his way up from farm worker, to foreman, to finally becoming the manager and expert advisor for a sizable agricultural and cattle farm belonging to a rich American landowner.  Uncle Heiner and Aunt Susie create a big family on their own Fazenda in Pindamonhangaba, never to leave again. In her old age, Mama’s deepest longings are for her unforgettable magical childhood days in Brazil.

 

When my feisty grandma Ruth dies, I am already living in America, and I ask family for two things to remember her: the beautiful silver-plated bowl with handle in which she had served my siblings and me home-baked cookies when we used to visit. And the snake skin that hung over her sofa. Both – Germany and Brazil – are here with me now in North America, California.

 

Our ancestors’ lives slithering and snaking through time and history, over continents and oceans, through wars and jungles, deserts and valleys. Over mountains and distances. Experiencing adventures, death sentences, imprisonment, torture, betrayals, births, escape. Joys, grief, sorrow – and most of all always that deep longing. Eventually we must go home. Join the Great Mystery again.

Note: The first still is of the snake’s tail which turns to a reddish color, so this snake is an adult red-tailed boa constrictor. Not a pet, but living in the wild – a common boa will live up to 20 years, a bit less than in captivity. My 95-year-old snake skin is still a soft flexible leather hide. When touching, I feel the snake’s magic, as well as life’s.

 

When we used to be human

 https://karinalandriver.blogspot.com/2023/06/when-we-used-to-be-when-we-used-to-be.html 

more snake skin