Tag Archives: Marrano
Marrano – The Letters
Posted by on Feb 28, 2015
Between late 1938 and July 1942, my twin brother, Abraham Francisco Hubsch, wrote to me at least once a fortnight from Paris. Our ambition was to study together at l’École de Paris, but we agreed that one of us should stay in Santa Cruz de la Sierra with Mama. Being Marrano was just family history which, to us both, could have no relevance in this day and age. We should have listened to Mama, history does have a way of repeating itself. Here are five letters written by Abraham between 1939 and his disappearance in 1942.
Miguel Ariel Hubsch
Marrano
Posted by on Oct 27, 2014
How many times have I gazed at his sketches and read his letters I muse, fifty, one hundred, more? Sometimes smiling, sometimes quietly weeping, sometimes doing both, afraid that failing in this ritual would eventually lead to all memories of Abraham fading. Perhaps this visit to Abraham’s favourite Café is really a pilgrimage? There’s L’église Saint Germain des Prés, just as Abraham sketched it and the cartoon clearly shows a view of …
My recognition of the scenes around me are interrupted by someone excitedly calling, “Señor Hubsch! Señor Hubsch!” A waiter is trotting towards me, his face a beaming smile, his arms outstretched, finally embracing me as he might a returning son. Stepping back his face assumes a sad expression, there are tears in eyes as he places his hands on my shoulders: “Señor Hubsch, I never expected to see you again, they took so many and so few have returned. I’m so sorry, so sorry,” almost whispering, “Where is Mademoiselle Rebecca?” Confused, I don’t answer. He breaks my silence, saying in a consolatory manner: “Never mind Señor Hubsch, you’re back and look, your favourite table is free. Please – come and sit down while I bring your café.” Leading me to the table, he pulls out a chair for me and sits me down, briefly patting my shoulder before vanishing back into the restaurant. Read more of this post
Marrano by Peter Barnett
Posted by on Aug 6, 2012
How many times have I gazed at his sketches and read his letters I muse, fifty, one hundred, more? Sometimes smiling, sometimes quietly weeping, sometimes doing both, afraid that failing in this ritual would eventually lead to all memories of Abraham fading. Perhaps this visit to Abraham’s favourite Café is really a pilgrimage? There’s L’église Saint Germain des Prés, just as Abraham sketched it and the cartoon clearly shows a view of …
