Malvi/klands. Days 3 & 4.

Malvi/klands, days 3 and 4.

These were intense visiting days. Monday was about finally coming out of Stanley (aka Puerto Argentino, for Argentine readers -a name understandably rejected by Islanders) with Sebastian, who works in the local Town Hall, but that nevertheless guides tourists, especially Argentine war veterans, through the various points of interest, upon request. We headed to Volunteer Point, a beach some 2 long hours away from Stanley, which houses one of the most approachable penguin colonies in the world, and arguably the main attraction for cruise ship visitors. After a good drive through really rough terrain, we reached our destination: my first 'live' penguins in the world, and definitely an experience I'd like to share with my kids. So I spent almost a couple of hours shooting the 3 different species of penguins, learning something about their variety, a variety previously neglected by my urban-intoxicated mindset. The return to Stanley included the sights of the first crashed war helicopters by Mount Kent, a sudden reality check after such wilderness 'overdose', and of the 'rivers of stone' (could still not get its actual name): huge streams of still standing rocks (which look like rivers), from the Ice Age. We finalized the day journey by sneaking into the Pembroke's Lighthouse, an idled facility that used to indicate Stanley's proximity, deactivated during the 1982 conflict. Back in the hotel, and reading a few magazines about the 'Liberation War' (an interesting concept for eyes and ears that have received another version altogether) I came across a sentence which caused me a sudden sense of realisation: "Argentine invaders were not received with open arms by the Islanders as 'liberators' from British colonialism, as they would have expected; that was against their expectations, and caused them dissapointment". Pretty much in line with a couple of things I would read a day later. This is an editorial from The Penguin News, the only newspaper edited in the Islands, as fresh as las Friday Nov/16th, and writing about the upcoming referendum in March (non verbatim, and just out of memory): "unsure about continue being a British colony, but certainly a hundred times better than being an Argentine colony". The other piece of interesting reading was a reader's letter, somewhat angry at those Argentine visitors who would refuse to fill out immigration forms, and in not precisely calm manners towards the airport officers, on the grounds of visiting "an Argentine Province". But the main point which struck me from such letter was his dividing Argentine visitors as those "who visit respectfully to get their peace of mind, and for a personal closure", from those who "spoil it for the rest".  Phrases that really resonated in me, deeply.

Day 3 anyhow finished with a brief-yet-rich impromptu conversation with Alex Olmedo, a Chilean-born Islander who has lived in the Malvi/klands for some 22 years. He reasserted the right for self-determination, the 'protected independence' from Britain, the rejection for Argentine single-mindedness about the sovereignty issue and its occasional populist outbursts -especially "for Mrs K" (sic). He stressed the 'allegiance' to Britain, and not to Argentina, and the 'British heritage', as a sense of pride and belonging. The conversation with Alex was another eye-opening moment for me: the Malviklanders, or Falkland Islanders, or Malvinenses, were not only "of pure British stock", as Margaret Thatcher wrote 5 years ago, in occasion of the 25th Anniversary of the conflict, but a more mixed and cosmopolitan one. And, of course, those 'adoptive' Falkland Islanders had as well the right to speak. All very interesting. Mrs Thatcher very likely remained with an old view of people. The conversation with Alex had taken an unexpected turn: whilst I opened the discussion with him considering him a Chilean and referring to Islanders as a non-present subject matter of our dialogue, as the talk went along Alex kept on saying "WE want self-determination", "us", "our rights", and the likes. It created some noise in my understanding at the beginning, I must admit ("why is this guy speaking in first person?" I must have felt), but my after-thoughts made me conclude "why not? He has lived here longer here than what he has lived in his original land". So, i had experienced a first, sudden, direct contact with the question, in a way that I could not have anticipated. I can't make a guess, looking in detail, what the position of "original" Anglo Islanders is regarding the new ones, but that is another separate discussion altogether. That does not take away the point that an apparent majority of Islanders, regardless of their origin, sustain a common political standpoint towards the Sovereignty issue.

Day 4 was mainly about mainly visiting war battlegrounds: Fitzroy Bay, where the Welsh Guards were bombed by Argentine aircrafts, with approx 50 casualties. On to Darwin, the upkept Argentine Cemetery, and where I left a first rosary hand-painted by my kids, as a sign of respect. The homages paid to Argentine soldiers by the British were especially movinf for me. I strive to be a bridge between people, and these aimed in such direction. Then on to Goose Green, a lovely seaside town, where one cannot simply believe that one of the bloodiest combats took place there. War is like that: it can rapidly transform Heaven into hell, it seems. The 'break' came with a visit to nice Bodie Creek suspended bridge, an awesome view of a mini 'Golden Gate', originally built to shepherd cattle but closed nowadays, hanging on incredibly blue waters, under bright sun, and spiced up with yellow gorse flowers all over the place. After those lunch sandwiches brought back the sense of corporal existence, neglected by the overdose of history data and picture-taking, we resumed our way to San Carlos, where the British forces finally landed in May-82. A beautiful area, with a small British Cemetery (Blue Beach) where I left my second child-painted rosary. A small museum set up in a caravan shows pictures and weapons from the war, where I could see, in displayed newspapers from those days, the support that local people provided to the 'Brits' seeing them as 'liberators'. Another click in my mind, whether Argentines like it or not. 

After leaving San Carlos we headed back to the city, amongst all those yellow slopes, ocassionally crossed by streams of water, dotted with sheep cattle running away from our disrupting march, and with scattered views of the sea. Almost into Stanley I took pics of the creative 'shoe cemetery', the power wind mills, and Mullet Creek, where the Argentines first arrived in '82. It had been a long day. Time to rest, and think of the coming days.