Je jure

I wore the green suit inherited from my daughter and my late grandmother’s black jet beads. I wanted the essence of these two adored women with me as I took my oath for Swiss citizenship. My late grandmother has given me my strength, my values and my perseverance. My daughter taught me how strong love can be and both are in every eon of my being. So by wearing their things they were with me on this, the second most important day of my life.

The reception room to the Hall of Oaths in the hotel de ville http://www.geneve-tourisme.ch/?rubrique=0000000152 had stone arches and red tile floors. People of all nationalities mulled around recreating the sounds of Babel. Before we could go in to be transformed into Swiss citizens, we had to present our invitations and give up our Permis C, the document that has allowed me to live such a high quality life all these years. In the ancient hall surrounded by symbols of the ages, it seemed strange to jettison that treasured permit into a cardboard box that for the past 16 years meant I could walk the streets safely in a city that is routinely considered one of the best ten in the world to live in. I was able to have six weeks holiday mandated by law and I never had to worry about health insurance. I was surrounded by incredible beauty, although I have never learned to take it for granted.

A man in a green livery uniform ushered each of the 91 future citizens to their assigned place in red leatherette chairs arranged in a U-shape. Before us were polished wooden desks, modernized with a microphone and buttons marked, oui, non, abst. At the open end of the U shape was a raised dais. The walls were marble and eight large windows, four on each side of the hall were decorated with stained glass symbols of the different cantons interspersed with frosted glass, but not in square panes but in different geometrical shapes: trapezoids, triangles and shapes with no names.

A man with a floor-length red cape and a tri-corner black hat led in the official who after taking his place high above us on the dais, explained the oath we were about to take. We stood, raised our hands as he read it. Then he read each of our names and we responded either with Je jure or Je promis. I chose to swear, thinking that stronger than promising for anything as important as upholding a constitution and respecting the tradition of Switzerland and the Canton of Geneva. In because in becoming a Suissesse I also became a Genevoise, which is far stronger than just becoming a citizen of say Massachusetts.

Our oaths given we sang the national anthem, mercifully only the first verse and backed by music piped in.

As instructed we stayed in our seats while each person was given an envelope with the necessary documents to get our passports and identity cards (which can be used as passports throughout the EU), our certificate of nationality, a certificate with a real ribbon and separate seal from the Canton and our first voting package for the election to be held November 25^th.

We marched out to shake hands with the officials and to have a choice of wines and juices. Large pain surprises were strategically placed. They are large round loaves of bread hollowed out, sliced and made into various sandwiches which are replaced and then covered by the dome of the bread, a typical Swiss accompanment to any apero. As we left the hall we were given a coffee table book about Geneva.

In the cold sunlight on cobblestones and streets I have walked a hundred times http://athos99.romandie.com/post/1656/7275 before, I was now in my own country. I passed the old buildings with their plaques telling of who lived there and what they did over the past 300 to 400 years.

I walked through the Place du Bourg www.trekearth.com/gallery/Europe/photo497656.htm with its fountain ablaze with yellow mums. I wanted to do a Mary Tyler Moore type circle and throw my beret in the air, except I had no beret and my hood was attached to my coat. I made my way down to the new town where I bought chocolate for my returning housemate and sushi, another symbol. When I filed my dossier at the Bureau de Naturalisation, three years, eight months and three days before, I had wanted sushi. I was late getting back to the office and the stand that sold it, still wasn’t ready to serve. It was only fitting that today I have sushi even if a fondue is more in order.

My final act before heading home, and my first official act as a new citizen, was to stop at the bank and pay my taxes. I paid them happily.