A departing Mexican ambassador to Ireland, Agustín Basave, gives his verdict on the Irishpersona
I arrived in Ireland exactly three years ago today. A wise journalist once told me that one should write about a foreign country either within three weeks or after three years of being there, so I wrote an article during my first days here and I am writing this one now that I am about to leave. The Irish Times has been kind enough to publish both of them.
To write about Ireland with the ambassadorial cap on, I must admit, has been easier than I expected. I guess some people will not believe me, but there is not a hint of diplomacy in these articles. When one feels close to a certain culture, when one encounters a strong connection with some people, it is unnecessary to be diplomatically polite.
I said in my last article that Ireland is a geographically-misplaced island; it should be in the Mediterranean. And as one of Mexico's two roots is of course Latin, it was thus easy for me to feel at home here. Why would a Latin American feel otherwise in a land whose inhabitants are so different to its weather, so engrained with faith even when they are sceptical, and so prone to make fun of pompousness?
Why would a Mexican be uncomfortable in a nation where tragedy has bred bonhomie and history is finally rhyming with hope, where music is joyfully sad and where the language has flourished to avoid hurting anyone, while the word, by winding around to escape a head-on collision against reality, has left a trace of beauty? How could I not feel privileged to have lived in the State with the greatest per capita literary GNP in the world?
It is becoming anachronistic to talk about national identities. Yet I wrote my thesis on that subject and I am too lazy to develop a new theory, so I will stubbornly keep talking about it. I believe, despite exaggerations, there is such a thing as a collective persona. Forgive me if I sound simplistic, but Irish history showed me a tall, skinny, hardy silhouette. It seemed to reflect a gutsy figure that reached high but was looking at the ground. In its eyes, below an ample forehead, I saw a smiling melancholy. Somehow I perceive it as the product of a tyranny of politeness, with a sociable expressive demeanour designed to hide emotional inexpressiveness, like some sort of an easy-going stoic.
A good-hearted persona that was raised with toughness but, far from resenting it, decided to take life lightly and feel happy. Wealth has recently softened things but the essence seems to remain: a complex psyche that managed to accommodate happiness.
Nobody that I know of has dared to write an essay about angry and happy peoples. Everyone tends to classify societies as industrious or laid-back, prosperous or backward, vain or humble. They say nothing about their mood. Have you ever noticed when you travel that there are countries where most people look cross and others where most people are upbeat and friendly? I am not aware of the causes of such attitudes, but I do have the impression that most people here are rather happy.
I don't know what they feel, of course, but they certainly seem not to be bothered by much. I can tell that "I am grand" is a courtesy formula, but "not a bother" very often sounds quite sincere. The key appears to be that very few Irish people take themselves too seriously. This is, no doubt, a peculiar nation. One which has produced many geniuses yet goes out of its way to stay away from arrogance, to remain down to earth and be self-effacing. In Ireland, in a way, humility is a matter of pride.
I am leaving with mixed feelings. I miss Mexico but I know I will miss Ireland too. I am content because I think I contributed a little bit to improve the relations between our two countries. Except for a personal one, I achieved all my goals; I even finished reading Ulysses! There is a sculpture now on Sandymount Strand which was made by Mexico's best sculptor, Sebastián, and which Dubliners - experts at renaming artistic public works and unconcerned with the fact that it took us long time to decide its official name - baptised it "The Mexican Wave". With all the subjectivity I am capable of and without any right, I like to see it as my legacy here, a visible symbol that reminds us of a Mexico that is now closer to Ireland. When I am back in my fatherland, I will keep that image in my mind. I know I will think of Ireland anyway, and I know I will smile every time I do. Though I also know that sometimes it will not be easy to do so without a nostalgic lump in my throat.