My Culture in a Hypothetical Apocalypse

 

"Hey Google, play "It's the End of the World as We Know It" by R.E.M.

    The year is 2050, and a widespread famine due to long-term monoculture as well as unsustainable farming practices has ravaged the United States. Emergency powers, which had not been utilized since the pandemic of 2020 are invoked once more as a response to protests that the government rations have too much cheese in them, and in addition, do not contain the essentials needed to survive. The president of these famished and crazed Americans announces that each family unit (or self-identified families up to 12 individuals), can apply to be relocated to a randomly selected country that has allied with the U.S., and agreed to take on a certain number of immigrants. The president, recommends that individuals leaving the U.S. pack lightly, and only carry a small backpack on the flight to prevent overcrowding. They end their speech by apologizing on behalf of all politicians for letting the American people down and wishing us all Godspeed.

    As the speech ends, and the song "Oh Say Can You See" plays, I turn to my husband and ask him to check the U.S. Immigration website and start filling out the necessary paperwork. We managed to remain untouched by the famine, as we had spent decades building a food forest as a passion project.  However, we were not going to miss an opportunity to leave the U.S., as rising tension has caused many citizens to act aggressively. 

    I look around and find a small grey backpack. It has enough room to fit a change of clothes and a few items. I pack an extra change of clothes and start to walk around my home, looking at the different things I can take. I want to take items that remind me of my life as a Mexican-American. So, I settle on taking: my family photo album, the Mexican cookbook my grandmother gave me, and a box containing various seeds native to the U.S. and Mexico.

     The photo album has various pictures of individuals who raised me, taught me about my culture, and helped me grow. This is valuable to me because it allows me to hold on to the memories of my time living in the U.S. and in Mexico. The Mexican cookbook not only has sentimental value because it was a gift from my grandmother but it also contains recipes that remind me of home. In the part of the U.S. I live in, we are very close to the Mexico border, so the food we get here is a mix of both countries. Lastly, I would want to take the box of seeds, as it would allow me to grow plants from my home. Food is a big deal in my family. Being able to use the same vegetables and fruits that we did at home would provide some peace and solace I imagine.

    As I look at the three items I chose, a sense of peace washes over me. Even if these items were confiscated or banned by the country I am moving to, I have memories of these items and the culture they're tied to. They are a part of my culture, but not necessary to maintain it. 

Fast-forward one year later, 2051.

    The country we were assigned turned out to be more individualistic, solitary, and quieter than the Mexican-American culture I was raised in. The food here in Russia is different and less fibrous. However, my husband and I are thankful to be in a safer place. During this year in a new country, I learned so much about the differences between my own collectivistic culture and the more individualistic culture in my part of Russia. The culture, the people, the attire, and the language are so different, but all function together so synchronously. This experience has taught me that although I may be far away from the place in which my culture comes from, I am still able to practice it no matter where I am.