A lifelong writer since the age of 9, Margarita Dager Uscocovich has learned, alongside her family, to grow and adapt to the system and culture of the United States, where they arrived more than 20 years ago. She has already published one novel, *No es tiempo de morir*, and has another on the way.
Ecuador, her homeland, did not offer a very promising future, so she and her husband and their 8-year-old daughter decided to do what many people do in that situation: leave their homeland.
“Politics doesn’t provide the opportunities that Ecuadorians need and deserve; there are too many well-educated and qualified people who have a lot to contribute,” says Dager, who worked in the aviation industry back home, putting his mastery of four languages to good use.
A food enthusiast and wine taster who currently works as a Spanish interpreter for schools and hospitals, she and her husband have also started a family business in Charlotte; the key to their success has been believing in themselves as a family and adapting to the system, the laws, and the culture.
In her novel *No es tiempo de Morir*, the author takes us on a journey through one of the many paths of an immigrant: a boy and his nurse talk in a hospital room about their experiences of war and the forced displacement they both had to endure due to the violence of the Islamic State. The text shows that while the immigrant’s journey is sometimes tragic, in the end it is hope and the beauty of life that keep us afloat.
In an interview with VozEs, the writer shared her experiences from the past two decades she has spent in Charlotte and told us about her book, her writing, her love of painting, and her work in cultural promotion.
Tell us about *No Es Tiempo de Morir* and why you chose to focus on the Islamic State war.
*No es Tiempo de Morir* was published in 2018; it came out in English last year and has been well received. However, as independent writers, we have to move at our own pace. We’ve promoted it through small book fairs.
Since I went to Syria, I could have gone to Yemen, Venezuela, or revisited the Holocaust; this is a topic that really captures my attention, a current issue that is unfolding right now. It affected me as a mother, as a woman, because I’ve always said that in these cases of violence, it’s a recurring pattern that women are used as weapons of war; a woman’s dignity is always on the front lines in these situations. It was necessary to talk about this issue.
I come from an Arab family, I’m familiar with their culture, and I have Syrian and Lebanese relatives. This affects us as a community. Sometimes the Arab community is selfish; there are places where they have the means to help and do so, but it’s not enough to get those families out of their situation and assist them.
In countries that depend on tourism, there is widespread prostitution and trafficking of children and women; the bond between society and religion is too strong—a bond that has remained unbroken even in modern societies influenced by the West. I didn’t focus on politics, but rather on history, way of life, memories, and the challenges faced by children and mothers.
I wanted to talk about forced displacement—that sense of being uprooted from your homeland. There are cases where migrants decided to leave because they were facing moments of despair, helplessness, and uncertainty, not knowing what was going to happen in their country. It’s hard to leave your family in someone else’s care, and we need to understand and see both sides of the story: that of the displaced person and that of the one left behind.
How do art and beauty help us come to terms with the tragedy that this displacement sometimes causes?
Two of my main characters could only remember the good things amid their tragedy. That’s what we carry inside us; that’s part of who we are. Sometimes fear makes us remember the good things. They are surrounded by fear, and that might be their first instinct, but instead, they draw strength from it and begin to recall the good things—to encourage themselves and remind themselves that things can’t all be that bad.
In this novel, there is always a sense of hope; not everything is bad. It is up to us to bring out the best in ourselves during the toughest times.
People have really brought out the best in themselves during this pandemic; many have reinvented themselves. I, for one, reinvented myself through painting—I had stopped painting many years ago. I haven’t studied the technical aspects, but I really love art and interior design, and discovering new things.
What would you say to immigrants who are also looking to start over and reinvent themselves in this country?
I can't give any specific advice because what works for me might not work for someone else, but everything happens at the right time. If you come from another country looking for a better life, the first thing you'll need to do is work. In my case, my family and I settled in, and now I realize it's time to do what I love.
I believe that everyone knows and is ready to pick up where they left off; we must never give up on it. We can’t just dream about it without making it a reality. “What ifs” don’t work. We have to identify our priorities, organize them, and never give up on our dreams.
As a writer, I find it easier to put myself in someone else’s shoes. It’s very difficult, but we must learn to do it; we must be a little less selfish. Once we’ve made it here and spread our wings, not everyone has the ability or opportunity to help. Sometimes the mindset is “every man for himself,” but I believe that each of us can do something to improve the situation of our fellow countrymen.
We need to realize that it’s not just “me,” but all of us who are part of the community. There are many people who come from less privileged backgrounds, and we need to help each other in small ways. This country offers many opportunities for projects and culture, and we must support one another.
We must contribute, promote our products and our art, and make sure we are known and recognized.
We must also vote—it is our duty and our right. That is how we help the community. We must stand against “divide and conquer” tactics; we need to realize that this is not about political parties but about mutual benefit.
A book opens doors—give a book as a gift. A book opens doors—go buy a book; there are so many books. Books are the gateway to learning.
In your 21 years in Charlotte, how has support for the art of Latino immigrants evolved? Is there any such support?
I think there is, and I’ve been lucky because through Queens University I’ve learned to spread my wings with their Latin American Art project, which they run in collaboration with the Department of Spanish and the Art Sí Association. It’s an open call for artists, and I’ve met many people who’ve done well through that project; however, I notice that in this whole aspect of art there is segregation; once you’ve become better known, egocentrism and rivalry sometimes set in, which prevents us from moving forward. That said, individually we must also have the drive to seek out opportunities—we shouldn’t just wait to be invited.
I would really love it if our own consulates would support us; in my country, I haven't seen much support in the cultural sphere—it's mostly focused on promoting business.
I believe that if you represent a country, you must represent it culturally; that hasn’t happened, and it’s the country’s moral obligation to you, as a Mexican, Ecuadorian, or Spaniard. The government of each country must provide support.
Margarita is already working on her new novel, which blends real-life events with fictional characters to bring to life the grim reality facing the city of Charlotte, one of the 10 cities with the highest rates of human trafficking.
“It’s a very complex story that I’ve researched—something truly fascinating. Sometimes, you can uncover something truly grim in the most unexpected person. These are heavy topics, but that’s life, and sometimes we think that—if it doesn’t happen to me—we don’t really take it in. But don’t wait for it to happen to you; don’t wait for a war or a famine. We need to become aware of this now,” says the author.
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