Being human

There is no nature that exists devoid of nurture; there is no nurture that develops without nature. To say otherwise is like saying that the area of a field is determined by its length but not its width. Every behavior is the product of an instinct trained by experience.

The study of human beings remained resolutely unreformed by these ideas until a few years ago. Even now, most anthropologists and social scientists are firmly committed to the view that evolution has nothing to tell them. Human bodies are products of "culture," and human culture does not reflect human nature, but the reverse. This restricts social scientists to investigation only differences between cultures and between individuals--and to exaggerating them. Yet what is most interesting to me about human beings is the things that are the same, not what is different--things like grammatical language, hierarchy, romantic love, sexual jealousy, long-term bongs between the genders ("marriage", in a sense). These are trainable instincts peculiar to out species and are just as surely the products of evolution as eyes and thumbs.”

― Matt Ridley, The Red Queen: Sex and the Evolution of Human Nature

‘You got a package today and a couple of letters’ my flatmate, Kelly hollered from her room.

‘Thanks chook’

It was after 7pm. I was just coming into my apartment after teaching a new evening class at the liceo classico. My manager, Theresa had done one of her ‘you wouldn’t do me another favour would you?’ and I had responded ‘oh anything you for Theresa.’ I was on to a good thing with Theresa, and I realised it was definitely a good idea to get on her right side. Not that she’d shown me the darker side that some of the other teachers at the school, mainly, Kelly, Patrick and Julian had mentioned. Despite differences between Theresa and I, I think we appreciated the commonality we both shared. The fact that we were both living away from our homeland and despite at times being terribly homesick, we put on a crowd pleasing smile for our customers. Theresa had then continued to ask ‘would you mind taking a small evening class at the liceo?’ and in the spirit of being a ‘yes to new experience’ girl, I agreed. It was funny as on meeting them for the first time, they greeted me with hugs and kisses and said, ‘we are parents of some of the children you teach.’

Worried about who they may admit being related to, they quickly said ‘I am Federica’s mamma, and this is my husband, Carlo and this is Giuseppe’s father. ‘Giuseppe had told me he really enjoys your classes.’ Relieved at who they had mentioned I quickly responded ‘Oh yes Federica and Giuseppe are a delight.’ While most of my students were delightful I had had one class of very boisterous teenagers who continued to speak Italian and talk over me until I said I would have a word with ‘mamma’ and they then calmed down.

The three parents were all professionals running their own businesses in Trapani and surrounding areas and keen to advance their English language skills for business and maybe a trip to ‘Scotland’. Although we covered a lot of topics, we quite often chatted about relationships and gossip about some of the children’s parents and then we would head for a quick aperitivo at the bar next to the liceo. The parents were keen to know if I had plans to stay and then would ask about whether I had a love back home. They would ‘ooh and aah’ when I produced a photo of Luke from my purse. It wasn’t the best photo, but he certainly looked rugged. A red checked flannel shirt made him look like he was handy with an axe and the beard he’d grown while in Africa gave him a Viking look. Looking at the picture just made me feel frustrated. Sexually frustrated.

This evening, I didn’t head into Kelly’s room for a chinwag. I felt whacked and in need of some quiet. My new gym routine and all the walking from the British Institutes into the Old Town a couple of times was doing me the world of good but by early evening I was spent.

Right, what’s in here…

It was a package with an Easter card from my Aunty Dee and a cassette tape…oh and a packet of fruit gums. That made me chuckle. I popped the cassette in, and Sam and Dee said, ‘Hi de hi!’

I found myself saying ‘hello campers.’ Out loud.

‘Hi Treas’, everyone was ‘treasure’ or ‘treas.’

‘Hi Treas, how are you or should we say ciao Bella.’

‘Yeah, we should probably say ciao. Hi Rebbie. Nimmy here. How’s Italy? Have you married Pietro yet?’ typical juvenile response from my sister but I certainly didn’t find her half as annoying now that a country separated us.

Dee continued ‘we thought we’d send you a tape with some family updates. Perhaps you can record a message and send one back? Don’t worry if not you’re probably busy.’

‘Are you draped in gold yet? Hope classes are going well. I understand from your mum that some of your students took you out for dinner the other day and presented you with a huge tub of Nutella. All those calories. Are you putting on weight? Sam’s just offered me a fruit gum.’ She continued to talk and chew. ‘Do you know they are 19 calories? Only 19? I can have 5 packets a week if I like but then not a lot else with this stupid diet.’

‘Can you tell treas is hangry?’ my sister jumped in when my aunt took a breath.

‘No, I’m not you cheeky monks.’

‘I’m sure you’re still lovely and slim. Are you going to the gym? Or have you out on a bit of weight. Please tell me you’ve put on weight and are at least a size 14. How’s Pietro? Does Luke know about much you see him? I bet he’s jealous. Oh well that’ll extra him to venture off to Africa. Ma said you went to the cinema the other day. Did you understand anything? So impressed if you did. I’m thinking about taking up Italian lessons you know just for a bit for holiday lingo. Did I tell you I’m going on holiday?’

Oof. I paused the tape and felt that was enough crazy chat from my aunt before bed. Dee had always lived close to us growing up and she had a habit of asking lots of questions but not waiting for the answers. I don’t know if it was all the crazy diets she went on. Cabbage. 5:2. Slimming world. Even if she lost a bit of weight, she always seemed a bit nuts.

While we were growing up she would constantly talk to my sister, Sam and I about weight loss and ‘what size are you now?’ It used to bore the pants off me and I used to respond. ‘Dee why don’t you just eat well and exercise?’ and she would respond ‘goodness you’re so sensible.’

I’d dread outings with her and my granny as they would constantly bicker about her yo-yo dieting. Lulu would joke saying ‘oh there she goes again for the sweet tin.’ Looking back it could have been quite damaging for our self-esteem so I was pleased to have a normal mother who never mentioned such bollocks.

It’s funny thinking about Lulu and the time we spent with her

Sisters, sisters

There were never such devoted sisters

Never had to have a chaperon, no sir

I'm here to keep my eye on her

Caring, sharing

Every little thing that we are wearing

I can see my granny Lulu singing that song now. Standing in the living room of her end of terrace house down the road from us in north Cornwall. The last home she lived in independently before moving in with my parents after her fall.

I’ll forever associate that song with Lulu.

I loved spending time with my mum’s mum ‘Lulu’, we never called her granny, nanny, nanna. It was always Lulu, short for her Christian name ‘louise.’ And one by which all her friends and dear ones called her.

We would spend a lot of time being sedentary when we were staying with Lulu. Either playing in her airing cupboard in her bathroom where we’d pinch the pretty dolly that was used as a toilet roll cover or we’d be stuffing our faces with something sugary and delicious while watching an old film.

Lulu would then walk in and tell us a story about old Hollywood and something quite scandalous about one of the actors we were watching.

The one story we love to tell anyone who can be bothered to listen is that when we were small. I was 7, my sister 5 and my brother 3 we would take it in turns to sit on lulus knee and ask her ‘what was I like when I was a little girl?’ And Lulu would say ‘oh you loved going for walks to feed the ducks’ and then my sister sam who always had to attempt to rain on my parade would say ‘and Lulu would say ‘oh you loved to make lots of noise so everyone knew you were in the room’ and then little jimmy would say ‘and Lulu, what was I like when I was a little girl?’ My sister and I would burst into laughter taunting the poor boy ‘Jimmy thinks he’s a girl. Jimmy thinks he’s a little girl.’ JAmes would cry and if mum was about he’s run to her and Lulu would add ‘always at his mother’s apron strings.’ Poor jimmy. He didn’t deserve that. I’m pleased to report that jimmy and I continue to speak regularly and make effort to spend time together.

When we were little our identities all seemed to stem from our differences from our siblings. Lulu would say I was an angel and happily sit in a corner away from each other, my sister would always be the creator of the drama and my brother always at his mother’s apron strings.

As we moved into the teenage years, I remember we all had our labels ‘academic’ or ‘musical’ or ‘sporty’ or we were compared to an aunt or uncle. ‘Oh jimmy, he’s just like Uncle Trevor who was an amazing golfer.’ I had let it all wash over me until the teenage years. I had changed schools, and it had felt like quite a huge change going from a convent school to a college which had just started accepting entrance from girls. What a shock but interestingly it had quite a negative impact on me academically as my attention turned from being top of the class to dumbing myself down and focusing on my external assets.

As I started to drift off to sleep that evening I thought about all my experiences to date but now especially in Sicily, that while culturally it had seemed quite different, on an individual basis we were all human and Trapani and my new friends hadn’t asked me to change. The people had welcomed me with big open arms.