Lives of courage, resilience, and the will to endure

FÁTIMA, THIS LADY OF OURS

I was born at home, here in Fajãzinha, 54 years ago. I am the youngest of three siblings. My mother was a domestic worker, and my father works in agriculture. The worst thing was that my mother fell ill with severe rheumatism and was bedridden for 12 years until she died at the age of 52. I took care of her until the end. Then I continued with my father, with whom I still live.
In the meantime, I got married, legally and in church, and had a son, who is now 24. When I got married, we agreed to continue living with my father. He was a widower and needed support. My brothers each have their own homes. My husband agreed.
One day, he left. They say he’s with someone else, but I don’t know. I know it was in the morning, he packed his things, walked out, and that was it, he didn’t say a word. He left without an argument. We got divorced without an argument, either; I didn’t make it difficult for him. The problem is that he didn’t get on with my father; he never did. If he found someone else right away, it’s because it wasn’t worth sacrificing my father for our marriage. Besides, he got involved in things he shouldn’t have, arguing here and there, so it’s better this way.
My son went to live with his father, but now he has his own house. He’s a laborer, works in restaurants during the holidays, and does odd jobs.
I only left Flores for health reasons. I went to Terceira, Faial, and São Miguel. For example, since they didn’t deliver babies in Flores, I had to go to Horta 15 days before my due date. It was the law. The government paid for the trip, and I paid for local accommodation. I spent three days in the hospital and came right back.
I work a lot at home and on the farm.
I have eight cows and one milking cow. The milk, cabbage, and white potatoes that I bring home are for the dogs, pigs, goats, and sheep. I make cheese from the milk for us to eat. My only income is from the calves I sell. The best part of the day is when I get a little rest. The only thing I miss is having children around.
At the moment, there are only two girls! We have a beautiful parish church, but only a handful of people attend.
Not everything is bad. I am in good health, although the aches and pains are starting to set in. I have everything I need to live… and only one dream: to go on a trip. But if I go to bed and wake up the next day, that’s good enough, isn’t it?
MHB

In Us Within Others (Nós nos outros)

https://www.facebook.com/nosnosoutros

Welcome to Stories from the Azores: Lives Between Oceans, a living archive of voices shaped by insularity, the sea, and survival. These stories honor men and women who left, returned, or remained, carrying with them the courage to face uncertainty and the resilience to endure hardship. Each tale is rooted in the volcanic soil of the Azores, where identity is forged in wind and salt, and yet reaches beyond the islands, across oceans and generations. Together, they form a mosaic of endurance and belonging, reminding us that to live between oceans is to embody strength, stubbornness, and hope. We thank the project Nós nos Outros for allowing us to share these stories with the Azorean Diaspora and the American and Canadian societies.

Translated to English as a community outreach program from the Portuguese Beyond Borders Institute (PBBI) and the Modern and Classical Languages and Literatures Department (MCLL) as part of Bruma Publication and ADMA (Azores-Diaspora Media Alliance) at California State University, Fresno, PBBI thanks Luso Financial for sponsoring NOVIDADES.