quinta-feira, 8 de agosto de 2013

Memórias de Heleni

Minha querida amiga Heleni Pedersoli,

que também trabalhou no livro Outono, traduzindo-o para o inglês está escrevendo suas memórias.
Heleni trabalhou como Bibliotecária na Universidade de Maryland em College Park MD USA. É MA em Literatura Comparada (Francês e Inglês) Auburn University;  MLS em Biblioteconomia, Univ. de Michigan; Estudos para o PhD em Literatura Comparada, University of Maryland. É também graduada em Literatura Inglesa e Linguística pela Pahlavi University, Shiraz, Iran e seu curriculum invejável  ainda tem muito mais coisas!!!

Eu fico muito feliz em ter seu nome ligado ao meu livro OUTONO, porque ela o leu, gostou e ainda o traduziu pra o Inglês, numa clara amostra de valorização desse trabalho! Uma pessoa com esse grau de cultura só enriquece a Obra!
Suas Memórias ainda estão em inglês, mas, como ela fala da sua infância em BH, Pitangui, Caparaó e conta muita coisa das Minas Gerais, ela já está providenciando logo a versão em Português!

Vejam o que ela escreve no seu Tumblr:

All the Days of my Life

The Lord is our Savior;
I shall sing to stringed instruments
In the House of the Lord
All the days of my life.
Isaiah 38:20

I was born on the day that Jesus died – April 7 – and the life I now live I live in the power of His resurrection.  This is how I planned to start the telling of my life tales.  I was 14 years old then.  I always found a million other things to do in those 70 years of my life, but today I decided it was time, so here it goes.
I always like to say that, since I was conceived in the little town of Caparaó, Minas Gerais, at the foothills of   the second highest mountain in Brazil – the Pico da Bandeira where my grandparents had a coffee farm — that my soul came from there, descending from the cloudless sky of that late winter morning,  down through the  tropical forest, and the water falls, bouncing on top of the blooming coffee trees, to the manor house where my newlywed parents – Aura and Isaias —  made love for the first time.  My mother was 18 years old, my father 10 years older.
Nine months later, in Belo Horizonte, a baby girl was born to them after a rather laborious delivery at home, assisted by a  midwife and my  grandmother Isamira, who took the wailing baby in her arms, looked at me  in the eye, and stated that this was one ugly child.  They named me Heleni, a Greek name for sure, having nothing to do with my heritage, just a name that sounded melodious to my mother.
My heritage was a mixed one, reflecting the races and ethnicities that settled the country discovered by Portuguese adventurer Pedro Alvares Cabral in 1500, when his mother ship Santa Maria landed in the coast of a country that was not the Indies, as he had hoped, but that he thankfully baptized Terra de Santa Cruz – Land of the Holy Cross. 
Here’s how the story of my ancestry goes:  my maternal great- grandfather Avraham Berçot arrived in Rio de Janeiro in a vessel coming from Geneva in the late 1700s.  In my dreams he was a Huguenot, fleeing the persecutions following the St. Bartholomew Day massacre of the heretical followers of Jean Calvin.  He married Magdalena and, enticed by the government’s effort to encourage coffee growing in the region, settled in the place that reminded him of the Alps of his native Switzerland.  His granddaughter Analie Berçot married Agenor Pinheiro and they settled in the outskirts of what is today the National Park of Alto Caparaó.  Isaias and Alfredo were their surviving children. 
Gostou? Quer ler mais?  LEIA AQUI

Heleni também escreve suas memórias no Blogspot: Pax et Bonun

Leia Aqui no Blogspot

Em breve postarei as memórias de Heleni em Português!

2 comentários:

Ariádne Tamires disse...

Uau está ficando chique hein Val! :D

Valéria Schmitt disse...

Obrigada Tami! Beijos. Vamos conversar depois sobre a parceria. :-)