Last year when I wrote my Australian finals (exams that we wrote instead of our mocks that we could have used/can use to get into Australian/British universities), we had an English writing paper. An essay for 70 marks, and transactional writing (ie. a letter) for 30. I'm all for essay writing, I love it. But letter writing isn't really my cup of tea. But that's getting off-track a little.
So anyway, what I was (eventually) getting around to was my essay. They gave us a load of different topics, some pictures, some words. I chose one that was something about home. Home is where the heart is. No, it wasn't that. Something like that. But it kinda got me thinking.
Take a girl like me. I don't have a home. I don't mean I'm homeless. Or a nomad or anything like that. I have a house, well, my parents do at least.Let me try explain myself. I was born in the UK. My mother is British, my father Persian. I always thought England was home. But then I got old enough to know better.
I'm a foreigner in England. I'm not British, I don't look British. Sure I speak English, I even have a British accent (it's fading away now). But my culture isn't British. I don't think people in England accept me as British, and I don't want to be British.
Okay, the younger me thought. So, you're not British. No big deal, it's pretty simple - you're Persian. If only it were that simple. It works both ways. I'm a foreigner in the UK, I'm a foreigner in Iran. So I speak a little Farsi. I can't even read it. Or write it. To the Persians, I'm as much of a foreigner as I am to the British.
To complicate matters even further, I've lived in Egypt. And now I live in South Africa. Egypt was home, South Africa is home but none are home.
So nowhere and everywhere seems like home. There's no one place that I feel intimately connected to, more than any other. To put it simply - I haven't really got a place that I insist my gravestone goes, or my ashes are sprinkled. I love England, I love Iran, I love the Middle East. Egypt, South Africa, and all the rest of the countries I've ever visited.
So after I got back from this last trip abroad, I found myself sitting opposite my mum and saying to her - "What the hell are we doing here?" Probably just the after-effects of a holiday that was too good to be true, huh? Or the side-effects of something bigger.
I got full marks for the essay by the way...
10 comments:
Its no surprise Laila that you got full marks for your essay. you seem to have a natural talent of converting your imagination and your flow of thoughts into words.
I find it difficult as I think in Urdu and write in English.
My friend is an Irish and she married an Indian, unfortunately divorced. Her son felt the same, and finally took to the sea. He is a shippee, don't know where he is now.
Earth is our home Laila, we have nowhere else to go.
beautifully written blog.
please post pictures of your holiday Laila, me eager to see tham.
In my humble opinion,it seems as though you have all the necessary qualifications and background to be an American...but then rauf is right,Earthling is more appealing.
Hey Leila! wonderful post.
I have kind of a similar issue too--no idea where home is or where I belong.I could say India but after a while I get restless there too.Probably Rauf's answer is the best option.
And holidays!!...hmmm..I vaguely remember how they feel.
Wonder when is the next one going to be for me.
(SO where is the link to that post on ideal partner.Would love to read it.)
Leila;
Worry not about belonging somewhere. People, in my opinion, are too concerned with what territories they're apart of that they forget we're sharing this planet with millions of others.
I know what you're thinking and I fully understand you. My mother is from Jamaica and my dad is from Cuba. I don't speak a word of Spanish, nor do I know much about Jamaican culture other than food. I've never been there before. I can't even speak the tongue of the country.
Like I said, worry not about where you're from. If that doesn't reach you, I hope this does:
"Sometimes home isn't necessarily where you're from.. sometimes it's all about where you feel most comfortable."
-Anthony
Feel free to quote me.
Really.
Heh.
;)
Hmmm. I'll comment by email. :o)
i fully understand where u are coming from.i was born in one state, raised in another, and yet i had to keep bouncing around in yet another.
to make matters even more interesting i don't know my father's heritage. but i have west indian roots. and while some west indian folks have adopted me, i still feel weird sometimes.
acceptance is a funny thing. when you think folks accept u, they don't and when u dont think they do, they love you.
Home? Home is where the heart is, or will be for you.
Hi Leila!
Glad you're back! Also glad that you had a nice holiday!
It's quite a tricky fixture to not feel intimately connected to a particular place...or to feel partially connected to various places...Maybe once you've finished your schooling, established your career and perhaps found someone with whom to share your life...(and maybe even start a family)...then the decision shall seem more clear to you...Or maybe not...I don't really know...
So I'm not too helpful, I guess...Sorry...(My parents came to Canada before I was born, yet I still feel a certain connection to their native land when we visit...I guess I'm Canadian, though I don't look "Canadian"...whatever that looks like)...So I can sort of relate to what you're saying...My only advice is to enjoy where you are when you're there...as for gravestones and ashes...There's still plenty of time to get that sorted out...
Take care out there, Leila!
Your Pal,
Zambo.
I think you write beautifully, and with passion. You put feeling and emotion into your words, and it is easy to read and imagine.
My Grandparents, both sets, came over to Canada from Holland. Both of my parents were born in Canada, and speak English with no accent. But they can both understand Dutch, my mom can speak and read it well, and my dad can sort of speak it and read it, enough to make himself understood. I don't speak Dutch. I don't even speak French, and I took it in school for 9 years! I wish I did.
I do feel a connection to my heritage, because there are many recently immigrated Nederlanders where I live. I can emulate the accent perfectly. But I am still Canadian, but I would not say it is my home.
My home is where my friends are. It can be their house, my house, or out in a pub somewhere. When I am comfortable with them, and can talk about anything, thats when I feel that I am truly home.
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