Aspa, from farming village to international community

Not far from Lleida, Catalonia, lies Aspa. This small village of around 150 inhabitants is a fine example of a rural community where people of many nationalities live together harmoniously. And this didn't come about through an NGO — it simply evolved naturally over the years.

The village of Aspa came to my attention because it participated in a project by the Catalan foundation Micropobles (micro villages), called Oportunitat500, which matched migrants with villages of fewer than 500 inhabitants.

In the quiet, ver neat village, I walk into the small town hall looking for the mayor. I find a man on the phone behind a computer. He looks as though he has just been repairing a tractor or something similar — his jacket is covered in grease. It turns out to be the mayor, señor Masot Aymí. A very friendly man. His colleague walks in as well. Between the two of them (there is no budget for more staff), they run the town hall and speak to me warmly.

From farming village to international community

Aspa turns out to be a cultural melting pot, and not because of its participation in the Oportunitat500 project. Through that project they did once employ a Uruguayan man who also came to live in the village. That worked well for a year, but the man missed his country so deeply that he eventually returned.

No, the people here came from various parts of the world entirely on their own initiative, looking for work and a place to live. Over the past 15 years, Aspa has transformed from a typical Catalan farming village into a multicultural place where people live together without conflict.

The first to arrive, about 15 years ago, was an Argentinian family. Then four Moroccan families settled in the village over the years to work. Around six years ago, a Senegalese man arrived. His family finally joined him just three months ago. Less than a month ago, a Malian man moved in, and one of his two sons has since followed. His wife and other son are still to come. Then there is a South African, an Englishman and a woman from Uruguay who runs the local bar — the social heart of the village.

A remarkable mix of people living in this small village of 200 inhabitants, of whom around 120 to 150 live and work there year-round. Many work as a péon — literally a pawn. Someone who cleans the streets, carries out small and larger repairs, and handles all sorts of other tasks. A kind of jack-of-all-trades.

Everyone gets along. "And why wouldn't they," says the council official, "if someone wants to live and work here, from Africa or anywhere else, why should that cause any problems? Everyone is welcome!"

The mayor agrees. They find it all quite normal, really. They help newcomers wherever they can and try to involve everyone in village life.

"The Moroccan families are somewhat more reserved, especially in the beginning," the mayor explains. "Now that there are more Moroccan families, we see the women gathering in the village square while their children play."

"During the village festivals it's always very lively. The Senegalese man, for instance, has been the black king during Three Kings for the past few years." A very important celebration in Spain.

It sounds and looks like a pleasant, quiet little village. "Just recently the bus driver, a Romanian, asked me: can't you find me a little house here? This is such a lovely village — I'd love to live here too," the mayor recounts. And? Is that possible? "No, because there are no houses available, like everywhere else. The cheapest house costs only 35,000 euros, but needs a complete renovation."

In terms of amenities, there is no school and since last year no shop either. The doctor comes twice a week and a mobile bank visits by bus. The priest comes every Saturday to hold mass, and — perhaps most importantly of all — there is a bar, naturally on the village square. And it is run by Adriana.

I feel rich!

Adriana is from Uruguay and came to Spain with her daughter. That was relatively straightforward because she had Spanish great-grandparents, which makes obtaining a Spanish passport much easier. This applies to many people from South America. She worked through Opus Dei in Barcelona, and her daughter lived and worked for a while in Mallorca. Adriana did some extra shifts at the bar in Aspa. When the bar was on the verge of closing, the mayor asked her to take it over. No sooner said than done. Adriana moved to Aspa and became the owner of the bar — the premises themselves belong to the municipality. She also opened a small shop in her home where someone else worked. But she had to close that last year as it wasn't financially viable.

"I don't earn much from the bar either, but look where I live," says Adriana. "It's so wonderful here. My mental health is worth a great deal to me — in that sense, I feel rich!"

As the bar owner, she is naturally the eyes and ears of the village. She confirms what I heard at the town hall. It's a friendly, quiet little village and people generally get along well with one another.

The key to success

From the bar, Mohammed hauls various tables over to the town hall for a small event. He commutes every day by bus from Lleida (the nearest city) to work here as a péon. He loves his work, he says. I had already seen him at the town hall. Mohammed had come in carrying a large broken plastic key. The mayor would fix it if they couldn't find another one. This mayor is a man of many talents!

Aspa demonstrates in practice what the MATILDE research also found (Bottom-up with the heart at the right place). One of the keys to a successfully mixed community lies in the hands of a mayor and local government that cooperates and keeps an open heart for newcomers.

Señor Masot Aymí, who was born and raised in the village, helps wherever he can. Everyone is included where possible. And perhaps just as importantly, it is also respected when a family prefers to keep more to themselves.

Unfortunately, during my visit I was unable to speak with the other newcomers themselves. However, the plan is to return and include this village in a documentary. When that happens, we will of course speak with many more people — I am very curious to hear their stories.