Exsilium

The word "exile" has been on my mind all morning. I have kept my Latin-Dutch and Dutch-Latin dictionaries from my high school days in Belgium. It is somewhat unsettling each time to see my maiden name and also my first name in Flemish : "Trui Desender, rhetorica 1975." I looked up the word for exile, both ways: exsilium is the Latin word for banishment. Banishment certainly describes well what exile is. The verb silere , of which the noun ex-silium is derived is defined as "to be quiet, to be silent, to keep quiet, to be without work, to cease, to not let hear a sound ". The Latin verb for imposing banishment in Dutch, "verbannen" is " expellere", from which we get " expel " in English. So, someone who is banished, or exiled, is someone who has been kicked out from whatever or wherever home or sense of belonging they had. The word exile is often associated with political banishment, and it often draws worldwide attention, because it involves highly skilled intellectuals and scientists and artists who defy their repressive governments. A giant among political exiles and always a person I was in awe of is the Russian dissident Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn who took on the entire Soviet political system. I read his "The Oak and the Calf " manuscript, the large volume in which he describes the excruciating ways he had to come up with to have his forbidden writings survive and smuggle them out of the Soviet bloc. Mind boggling. I have a great preference for his "One day in the life of Ivan Denisovich", in which he describes one day in the life of a prisoner in the Gulag system. This beautiful book manages to have its main character rise above the absurdity and hopelessness of his life to find purpose and even dignity. It is really one large prose poem dedicated to one man's determination to survive without bitterness and self-pity, the brutality of an inhuman system. As someone who was banished out of my family and subsequently out of my language, culture and country, the book has great personal meaning. It is certainly true I am but an ant in courage in comparison to the courage that was required of Ivan Denisovich, but I know the pain of banishment, and its dire consequences emotionally and socially. I do not wear a prisoner's thin and inadequate uniform, I do not go hungry or thirsty physically, I can speak freely and am not in constant fear of abuse and hopelessness, but I do know those pains and fears emotionally, as I struggle for a voice, a place to be heard, for visibility and context and understanding and significance. If I want to hear Flemish, I speak to myself, the only other option is to call my aunt long distance a couple of times a year. The thing about banishment is that it is hard to reverse. Even if you do find your way back, either through sheer will or opportune circumstances, the damage done takes time to heal. I am not sure that I will have that opportunity in time to say goodbye to some already elderly family members back in Belgium. Meanwhile, I put one foot in front of the other, and walk on, and really no one around me is aware of how I feel and why, or how hard it can be. As is expected of the banished one, I keep quiet, and bear my exile with as much optimism and faith as I can muster, hoping the wall I chip at will come down eventually. And like Ivan Denisovich, I choose to view my daily achievements and their repetitions as worthwhile, even beautiful.