I write from Madeira, a Portuguese island in the Atlantic Ocean, six hundred miles southwest of the mainland. A beautiful place. It is the peak of an underwater mountain range; the rocky slopes rise at steep angles out of the gunmetal gray sea. Semi tropical in climate, the island is lush with flowers, blooming year around.
Uninhabited until 1419, the island was settled by the Portuguese. A handful of wealthier families developed prosperous sugar plantations, but most of the settlers were small farmers who struggled to farm the rocky slopes or fisherman whose boats went out every morning from the rocky harbors into the fierce sea.
My wife’s maternal grandparents were born on this island, and they came from the struggling working class. Her grandfather and two of his siblings emigrated to the United States. One sister stayed behind, married, and had five children. That sister’s grandchildren are my wife’s second cousins.
Cousins. A special relationship.
We are all sisters and brothers. Beloved children of God. There is an old saying that “God has many children but no grandchildren.” Those of us who are grandparents almost pity God for not having that special relationship, but of course, He is present in all relationships, all forms of real love.
Yes, we are sisters and brothers. But cousinship is an earthlier relationship—we become cousins through our parents and grandparents and great grandparents. Not necessarily a blood relationship (many of our cousins are via marriage or adoption), but a family relationship. And there is something almost mystically strong in family relationships.
My wife and I have been to Madeira only once before—twenty-four years ago. At that time, we met two “aunts,” literally her mother’s first cousins and two-second cousins of our generation. This time we are able to meet another cousin and his family—his wife, daughter, son, and granddaughter. They open their hearts and home to us – sharing stories, joys, and worries – sharing wine, food, faith, and laughter. Cousins. People we didn’t even know about until a week earlier have become part of our lives— and we, part of theirs.
And, on an island like Madeira, one begins to realize that everyone is cousins. Cousins of cousins —or cousins of cousins of cousins—what does it matter? One looks out beyond, to Europe, to Africa, to South America – cousins of cousins. Descendants of Adam and Eve.
A mystical family relationship we have with all humans. Not only divine brothers and sisters (as children of God) but earthly cousins, bound by family bonds.
Back in our hotel one evening, my wife emails her cousin Alan in the United States. “I have found another cousin,” she tells him. He emails her back: “Tell me about him. I want to know more.”
What an earthy mystical matter life can be!
Copyright 2022, Arthur Powers
Arthur Powers
Arthur Powers went to Brazil in 1969 as a Peace Corps Volunteer and lived there for over thirty years. He & his wife spent seven years in the Amazon as Franciscan lay missioners. They now live in Raleigh, where Arthur is a deacon. Arthur, a co-founder of CWG, is author of two collections of short stories set in Brazil, two volumes of poetry, and The Book of Jotham.