I'm sick

I’m sick. This has become a recurring event whenever I visit my hometown, Cieza, in the south of Spain. This time, the illness hit me particularly hard. I’m on the fourth day of a flu, still feverish and unable to leave the sofa. It’s a peculiar way to end the year, isn’t it? However, being confined to bed provides ample time for reflection on my connection with this city where I lived until I was 18, and where my parents still reside.

These reflections have led me to realize that many people in this town are also metaphorically ‘sick,’ due to an inherent toxicity that pervades every aspect of it. This toxicity makes me extremely uncomfortable during my visits, a sentiment that saddens me as my parents, despite their best efforts, cannot mitigate it.

To understand this toxicity’s origin, we must delve into the local culture. While my experience is specific to Cieza, I believe many aspects are reflective of the broader Spanish culture, which is complex and often surprising. It’s important to note that not everyone conforms to this pattern, but it’s common enough to be noticeable.

On the surface, everyone appears social and supportive. But upon closer inspection, it’s often superficial. There’s a lack of genuine empathy and trust. People constantly compare themselves to others and gossip incessantly, almost like a national sport. If you’re successful, envy ensues because they attribute your success to luck. If you’re struggling, they offer hollow condolences. Non-conformity to societal norms leads to judgment and subtle ostracism. For instance, my sister-in-law, who is vegan and lesbian, faces misunderstanding and indifference from many who are unwilling to challenge their preconceptions. If you don’t adhere to societal expectations and seek mental well-being, you must don a façade, a process both exhausting and mentally draining.

Whenever I encounter locals, I feel compelled to conform to their preconceptions about Germany and Spain. Challenging these views often leads to social rejection, and amusingly, they report back to my parents, as if to confirm my ‘Germanization.’ It’s infuriating.

Walking around, you often see people drinking large quantities of beer, possibly using alcohol as an escape. I think of the many who suffer because they can’t express their true selves. My mother, for instance, struggles with anxiety and stress, and fears the town’s judgment for seeking mental health treatment. Ironically, when I moved to Germany, she felt compelled to frame it as a deliberate choice, rather than a lack of local opportunities.

As my parent-in-law often says, Spain lies at the world’s edge, Murcia at Spain’s, and our town at Murcia’s. Being here feels like time-traveling to a bygone era, where societal expectations dictate major life decisions like marriage and parenthood, often at the expense of personal desires.

I’ve pondered whether this cultural aspect is recent, but Spanish literature, including Lazarillo de Tormes (1554), Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quijote de La Mancha (1605), and Federico García Lorca, La Casa de Bernarda Alba (1945), reflects similar themes. A line from the latter beautifully encapsulates my feelings about my town:

“This is how one must speak in this cursed town without a river, a town of wells, where one always drinks water fearing it’s poisoned.”

It symbolizes the pervasive mistrust and fear of public opinion.

So, being in Cieza means not being myself, which in itself makes me ‘sick.’ When locals advise us to return to Cieza, boasting of its unparalleled lifestyle, I’m reminded that explaining my connection with Berlin is futile.

And regarding health practices like wearing masks during flu season, there’s resistance since it’s not mandated. Unlike in Germany, where people understand and respect health guidelines, here it’s about following rules, not rationale.

Will this change? I’m uncertain. It requires a significant investment in education, something I don’t see happening. Friends starting their teaching careers are already witnessing discriminatory practices, a disheartening sign that impedes Spain’s progress. While there are aspects to celebrate, like our cuisine, they don’t overshadow the need for societal evolution.

If I ever return to Spain or Cieza, seeking therapy will be a priority to prepare for confronting a reality I now encounter only a few times a year.