Exploring one’s heritage; a journey into your own history

Perhaps its a sign that I grew up in the States, but during St Patrick’s day I use to wonder if I had any Irish in me. While we knew more about my mother’s side (Salkeld is from the north of England), we knew very little about the Prugue’s. All we knew was that Emilio Prugue (or Emile before Spanish legal translation) migrated from Bayonne France to Lima Peru back in the mid 1800s. Seems there was a thriving French artist community in Peru at the time, even Paul Gaugin lived in Peru (before Tahiti of course). And in my family, having access to his lithographs (printed in 1853 and ‘54) are treasured items in my family. While we knew relatively little about Emile, we all appreciated that he was the first Prugue in Peru, and that it was he who’d signed these works himself.

The fact that we knew so little about the Prugue’s in France, however, would frustrate my father immensely. He would recollect how his grandfather, son of Emile Prugue, would speak to him in French. Or how his paternal uncle went to Paris back in the 1920s specifically to learn the violin, although he hardly mentioned how his uncle returned to Lima as tone deaf as when he left for Paris (he was a Prugue after all, and as a Prugue, party was the preferred option over studies). I remember my father saying that one of his saddest days was when he heard on the radio how the Third Reich marched under the Arc de Triomphe. But if you were to probe any deeper, you could see his frustration from my father’s inability to tell you more about the life of the Prugue’s pre Emilio.

Some years back, my brother Lucho had both found and made contact with some Prugue’s, whom he’d found in the south of France. As Prugue is not a common last name even in France, let alone their living in the south of France, we were feeling optimistic. And over the years, I too contacted and liaised with Eliane Prugue, and later with her brother Michel and sisters Martine and Claudine Prugue. We exchanged emails, sent photos, and over time, formed a special bond.

When I wrote to Eliane on how I was planning to walk El Camino, starting from St Jean Pied de Port in the French Pyrenees, she reminded me how she and her all siblings lived near Bayonne, and that I’d have to visit them. Perfect. How better to honour my father than by connecting with our French heritage in the south of France. And while obviously I have no proof that we are actually related other than by name, our superb connection seems nothing less than fraternal. Perhaps we can take a DNA test one day to confirm that indeed Eliane and I are related, not that any results would change how I admire and respect both her and Martine.

To give you some flavour as to how special Martine and Eliane are; hear me out. Not only had Martine and her partner Jean Luc picked me up from Biarritz airport, but they housed me as we spent the next two days touring the French Pyrenees coastline crossing over into northern Spain, let alone enjoyed some fine feed and vin. But the highlight for me with Martine and Jean Luc was when they took me to the French medieval town of Bayonne, walking the streets where perhaps Emile Prugue had himself walked in the early 1800s before leaving for Peru? I’d like to think so; or better stated, for my father’s sake I’d like to think so. And while my father’s been deceased since 12th April 2017, being in Bayonne so close to the one year anniversary of his death brought me closer to my father. I closed my eyes and imagined walking these same streets with my father, seeing my father’s eye shine with his native pride of France. I imagined my father imagining if Emile had walked these streets, bought chocolate from this sweets shop, or perhaps was baptised in this very old stone church here in Ba

yonne. My heart was full of warmth and pride, as I felt that I was indeed in HIS hometown.

Later that night Jean Luc and Martine drove me to a marvellous little book shop an hour’s drive into a French farming community in Landes. Landes France is an enclave outside the hustle and bustle of modern France. They pride themselves on how there is no TGV, and few embraces of an soulful empty materialistic life. We went to meet Eliane and her partner Gerald to one of the best book shops that I’ve truly ever visited. It is a tree house built by hand by this wonderful couple, who gave the library a feeling of a tree house for the book loving hippy child. Heaven. Gerald was speaking about his recently released book on his 10 week El Camino journey, starting in the north of France to Santiago de Campostela, or 1600 kms (1,000 miles).

Can you believe this?!? Doesn’t fate have a funny way of reminding one just how small they are, as she brought me together with Gerald days before my own St Jean Pied de Port (in French Pyrenees) to Santiago de Campostela, or 800 kms (500 miles). My own personal El Camino coach, someone who’d generously embraced me immediately as he knows well what lies ahead for me. And as a purist himself, Gerald’s tips as to how to milk the most out of my 800 kms are invaluable. It’s like fate was telling me to let myself go into this vulnerability as she has my back. Who am I to second guess her?

Coming to their home late last night Eliane’s farm, she showed me with pride her family tree which dates back to Pierre du Prugue, born back in 1670. As I’m told, its difficult to go beyond this period as many documents were burned during the French Revolution, either by those rebelling or by those wanting to disappear. Either way, when Eliane showed me her family tree, I immediately gave her THE biggest Prugue hug. Wonder if Eliane knew if this hug was both mine and from my father living through me? Two for the price of one.

Tomorrow I get to meet their brother, Michel Prugue. Really looking forward to meeting him as I had previously found him years back on Google France. What struck me about him was his photo, who perhaps my over zealous desire to be connected, I saw a distinct resemblance to my own brother Enrique. To me, the similarity was truly striking.

This coming Saturday the 7th of April, Gerald and Eliane will drive me to St Jean De Port, spend the night with me at a local albergue, and set me off on my 800 journey on Sunday the 8th April. Will be difficult to leave the Prugue’s from south of France, but am comfortable in knowing that next time I will bring my family as I want to share all this knowledge and family love they showered me with. Related or not, they are truly some very special and wonderful people, leaving me feeling blessed to have met them and their own children/grand children.