Kristi is a man full of life, a father to those who need fatherly love and a friend to those who need friendship.
This was made absolutely clear the very first time I met Kristi, in which he happily slapped me hard upon my back instead of just simply shaking my hand. Since our first greeting, physical affection from Kristi has become my expectation. As I approached him for an interview, as anticipated, the man I’ve come to affectionately call “poppa” embraced me as if I was one of his own children, squeezing me warm with one arm and smiling as he asked me, “what can I do for you, my son?” After gaining its independence in the late 1970s, Sri Lanka saw ethnic-based tension traumatically turn the tiny island upside down. Sri Lanka went from its 1970s peace negotiation and into an almost immediate civil war that saw “ethic-cleansing” during the 1980s[1]. Nearly half a million lives were taken over the course of the 1980s, forcing one scholar to claim the trauma to be the “Rwanda of Southeast Asia[2]”. Amid all the troublesomeness, it still took until the late 1980s, and a fortunate knock from opportunity, for Kristi to move himself and his family to Italy, away from the dangerous encompassing his life situation. By 1993 Kristi had settled in Venice. Contemporarily, Kristi would say his twenty-one year old assimilation was originally a move of socioeconomic opportunity and that his now genuine love for Venice came with time. However, I found some of Kristi’s words initially troublesome. To be frank, Kristi does not fit the archetype of the typical Venetian, yet he and the gondola gracing Venice’s Grand Canal are alike: as a whole, both uniquely embody Venetian culture. If there are directions needed, Kristi could point out its location through perfectly describing its associated landmarks. If the satisfaction of your belly is needed, Kristi could point you towards a restaurant—a hidden gem so good that it’ll have you crawling back. Italian easily has become both his second language and way of life. As with the locals, daily trips to the market, a swift walking style and social drinking are second nature for him, albeit Kristi recognizes that even after twenty-one years of trotting alongside the Venetian lion, his time in Venice is coming to its finale. “Venice is my second home,” Kristi told me with his usual bubbly smile, “It will always be, but it is not Sri Lanka.” Brown skin is foreignism here upon the lagoon, where San Marco the Evangelist sleeps and protects. Any skin tone beyond the comfortable Italian tan seems to bring with it a subtle un-comfortableness, but that hasn’t stop Kristi, a longtime immigrant, to halt his complete assimilation. He is Venetian. And it surely doesn’t stop him from dreaming of his future either. Kristi does not want to remain in Venice much longer because his dream is to return to his first home, Sri Lanka, in order to happily retire into life as a father and grandfather to his children and grandchildren; for he firstly is Sri Lankan. But his smile puzzled me. It was almost as if Kristi didn’t catch the words he had just spoken. Perhaps I alone tasted the bittersweet irony behind his genuine grin. As Kristi continued to brag about his family, for me questions of disbelief occupied my mind’s attention: After taking twenty-one years of assimilating into Venetian culture, does leaving her make Kristi a good or bad citizen? Was Kristi ever a citizen of Venice? And if not, what exactly makes or defines a person as a citizen? According to Plato, a good citizen is one who approaches the public sphere seeking simply to fulfill his duty. That that person should embrace a near utopian-style society, focusing on their duty to the public and leaving the political sphere to the philosopher-king because one’s duty to the public is important for the general maintenance of civil society. Although Plato argues that awareness of the happenings within the political sphere is also important. If a person’s role to the public is to be the blacksmith, than blacksmithing is what they would do. Therefore, if purely using Plato’s theory, Kristi is by definition a “good citizen”. He does his duties for the public without causing any trouble nor—coincidentally—with much concern for the political scene, although he remains aware of the happenings. Furthermore, Plato does not specify a citizen as one legally recognized by the government, but rather as someone who “[brought] something to, and [did] their duty in, the public sphere.” Thus based off of Plato’s conclusion, it seems Plato would recognize Kristi as a Venetian citizen because he brings his has assimilated into the Venetian and participates in Venetian life through various aspects of his life, such as employment, not because Kristi’s lack of official Italian civilian paperwork. Nevertheless, I feel as Plato’s theoretical citizenship model does not fully convey Kristi’s citizenship nor completely answer my aforementioned questions. But my housemate and friend Giselle does seem to best illustrate the essence of Kristi, finally making sense of his previously baffling words through her testimonial: “Kristi goes above and beyond his [role]… I remember when he tried to learn my name. Although English is clearly not his first language, on top of my name being difficult to pronounce [even for Americans], every day he would take the time to ask me my name, unafraid to mess it up and heed correction until he got it [right on a consistent basis]. [And even from the opposite perspective] I came to Venice with fears about my own assimilation into Venetian culture, but Kristi made the process of assimilating into Venetian culture less intimidating just through his genuine interactions with me…” For the record, I’d argue Plato was correct when describing a good citizen as understanding one’s role in the public sphere, but the complexities of the human nature make me question whether or not Plato even considered the deeper question: what distinguishes a good citizen from a great citizen? Through my daily interactions and personal interview with Kristi, as well as Giselle’s testimonial, I know understand there is an important distinction between a good citizen and a great citizen. And it seems that which makes a great citizen is rooted in their personal motivation regarding society, defined by their hope of tomorrow, not their actions of today. A great citizen does what they have to do today so that tomorrow may bring the public sphere something greater, without selfishly seeking the fruits of their own labor. Kristi is a great citizen because he does his role in Venetian society extremely well and because he understands that although his situation is temporary today brings the chance to positively impact so many people. His major accomplishments aren’t illustrated through crowing accolades or recognized publications; rather they are expressed through diligence. Even though he probably prefers cleaning for his own family, a smiling Kristi shows up to work ready to clean for us at Casa Artom because doing his job well brings our home peace. Even though he’d probably prefer the slight ambiguity of Mona Lisa perched on his wife’s face, as soon as Kristi enters a room he tries to make us laugh because he seems to understand a laugh today can help someone through tomorrow. And albeit he most likely would rather see the toothless smiles of growing grandchildren or hear the thankful laugher of his lovely wife, I like to think that Kristi gave me an interview because he wanted to let me know that somehow, someway, I sincerely mean something deeper to him. I now realize that Kristi’s lack of desire for permanent residency in Venice could ever take away his citizenship as a Venetian. Kristi is a great citizen because of his motivation behind interacting with the public sphere. His personal desires of location become obsolete, irrelevant regarding Kristi as a citizen. After slapping me on the back, Kristi ended our interview by asking, “Anything else, for you, my son?” Straightaway, I could tell my “poppa” was thinking about his real son, and home of Sri Lanka, just by looking at the wide smile upon his round face. It was full of life. My mutual smile followed suit. He put out his hand, anticipating a shake, but was instead greeted with an affectionate slap to his back, a warm hug and sincere thankfulness. And with one last laugh, he replied to my physical affection with, “Okay, okay my son, no problem… but that hurt!” [1] Jayatunge, Ruwan M., Dr. "The Black July 1983 That Created a Collective Trauma." LankaWeb. LankaWeb.com, 27 Apr. 2010. Web. 23 Sept. 2014. [2] Jayatunge.
0 Comments
|
AuthorDarius Williams ArchivesCategories |