Diplomatic Solitude

I was reading Pablo Neruda’s quasi-autobiography, Confieso que he vivdo, (I confess that I’ve lived), and read a passage that seemed relevant to this blog.  Neruda, a Nobel prize-winning poet, spent a brief stint in Chile’s consular corps, serving in Burma and Sri Lanka.  Anyway, here’s the quote (my copy of the book is in Spanish, so this is my own translation):

True solitude I met during those days and years in Wellawatta.  I slept the entire time in a field cot like a soldier, like an explorer.  I didn’t have any company other than a table and two chairs, my work, my dog, my mongoose, and the boy who served me and returned to his village at night.  This man wasn’t properly company; his condition of oriental servitude obligated him to be more silent than a shadow.  He was named or is named Brampy.  There was no need to order him to do anything, as he already had done everything: my food on the table, my clothes recently ironed, the bottle of whisky on the verandah.  It seemed as if he had forgotten language.  He only knew how to smile with big horse teeth.

Solitude in this case wasn’t a literary theme but something hard like a prison wall, against which you can break your head without anyone knowing, so you shout and weep.

Of course, I’d wager that there are more Americans than Chileans in most consular districts and that U.S. diplomats spend more time at work than Neruda apparently did (in the same chapter he claimed to only work officially once every three months), but I think we’ve all felt lonely at times, and it’s always good to know that you’re not the only one.

Tagged as: Day-to-day Diplomacy, Living Overseas