Showing posts with label motherland. Show all posts
One Page at a Time
Being “you” is easier said than done especially when you are adjusting into a culture that you are unfamiliar with. As a young
migrant, it can be tough to adjust to cultural differences between your adopted country and home country while you are trying to map out your identity as an individual.
As an immigrant, it is common that you are first identified
by your racial background – a part of a greater whole – a culture with its own
ways and tradition. But aside from that, you are also an individual molded by
experiences and stories strengthened through time. All of these can be a lot more complicated
when you are parachuted into a new life – a new culture that may be different
from what you are used to together with new experiences that shapes your new
personality. And even then, there is a bigger question:
How are you going to fit yourself in this new culture
or society with their own ways? How will you find a way to keep ties to your
roots, fit into this newly introduced culture all while you keep on growing and
mold yourself as your own person or as an individual?
It is fairly easy to get lost with these questions as it is
a lot to take it all in at once. But each individual has their own ways of
dealing with it. Some just go with the flow; some manage to paint it all
together in one canvas – a mosaic with vibrant colours clashed together as an
art. Sometimes it is a tug of war. It is a battle between keeping your identity
and losing it in order to fit in and even then, there is no assurance or
certainty that you win the game.
Finding balance is the key to answer the question. It is
important to realize that being in a new place or country does not necessarily
mean forgetting your roots nor does it require you to completely ignore the new
ways of living and continue your old ways. Your roots, culture and tradition
will always be yours and there is no shame of being proud of it. The same goes
for trying out new things and exploring this new culture in front you for it
expands your horizon and will let you explore greater things and experiences
that will later on help you to become your own person and become a part of a
larger community that is molded by individuals just like yourself – each with
their own experiences and stories to share.
Trying to fit in does not mean forgetting. Embracing your adopted country does not mean
turning your back from your home country. Sometimes it is a matter of putting
pieces together to create a bigger picture. It is a way of building bridges and
opening a door to new possibilities and vital connections that put both aspects
of old roots and new ties into a well-rounded individual with the capacity of
living in the best of both worlds.
As far as individuality goes, it is a story with an endless
possibility and the course of its progress is entirely up to the person holding
the pen: you. So let your pen find its way to your paper because sometimes,
being ‘you’ is a story written one page at a time.
Janine
TED Talks Tuesdays: My Escape From North Korea
Today's TED Talk is by Hyeonseo Lee, who was born in North Korea. When she was younger, she thought that her country "was the best in the world". However, when she was 14, there was a period of terrible famine in North Korea. To survive, she escaped to China to be in company of her distant relatives.
There, her life was put to danger when she was brought by the Chinese police to a station for interrogation. Since North Korean refugees are considered in China as illegal migrants, she was very close to being imprisoned or repatriated. Thankfully, she was able to answer all the questions calmly and was let go. The years that followed were spent covering her real identity from the Chinese officials. After 10 years of doing this, she decided to take another risk by going to Seoul, South Korea.
There, she greatly struggled to adjust with her new life, confessing that she even experienced identity crisis. As she was trying to cope up with her life in Seoul, she received a call saying that the North Korean authorities intercepted the money that she had sent to her family. You won't believe what happened next..
Watch Hyeonseo Lee tell her riveting story about escape that inspires hope, bravery, and persistence:
The Transition From Air-Conditioners to Heaters: A Productive Ramble.
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| Christopher John SSF |
I like change just as much as I like uncomfortable situations, which is to say, a lot. There’s something about the novelty, that extra rush of adrenaline triggering my lizard, that makes me want to seek it out and bathe in its sweat-inducing, blood-pumping, knee-jerking effect. I become the change physically, mentally, and spiritually. Or maybe I’m just an adrenaline junkie who drinks too much coffee, that’s much more probable.
I’ve been in Canada for a bit more than a year now, and alas, I’ve fallen into a monotonous routine birthed by school and my ever-persistent aversion to homework. Albeit, my methods of procrastination may not be the most conventional for a teenager. I prefer books to the internet (Twitter and Tumblr are too complex for my simple minded self). I suppose at first, it was just my utter loneliness that drove me to take a shot at finding companionship in books. Soon, it turned into an addiction where I could hardly pull myself away from this fictional world of metaphors and similes. I’m trying to find a balance, now that I actually have some friends.
It’s challenging, making friends in a country that has a culture vastly different than what I’ve known all my life (there’s quite a disparity between watching American T.V and living it). Now, people that know me will attest to the fact that I’m an extrovert that finds pleasure in attention and random conversations with strangers on the skytrain, but I was conflicted; I wanted to “be myself”, but High School turned out to be a runway where “myself” wasn’t good enough. I went through a black clothes, head down, loner phase that I’m in all honesty, rather embarrassed about. I’m not insinuating that people that wear black clothes and don’t have much in the way of company should be embarrassed about it, just that I wasn’t a person that could be satisfied that way. In my defence, it was because I missed India. I missed being semi-popular, and I achingly missed my best friends, (let’s call them Z, P and D for the purpose of this text). Being invisible seemed like a better option than attempting to fit in, with my barely understandable accent (pfft Canadians can’t even pronounce my name right), my accidental use of British English (people look at me weird when I say ‘dustbin’ instead of the Canadian-accepted ‘garbage can’), and a somewhat jet-lagged brain. I also don’t get my fashion sense until the start of my Grade 12 year, though admittedly the few outfits that turned out well were probably those that I ‘borrowed’ from my elder sister.
I’d enter a mall, get assaulted by the sudden, comforting warmth and remember, for the tenth time that day, that I’m in Canada where Heaters beat Air-Conditioners, even in the summers (though disappointingly, I haven’t met an actual Eskimo that lives in an igloo yet). I missed Mumbai’s salty, humid air that had a lingering scent of spices, and more often than not, urine.
But other than these moments where depression and longing would hit me faster than I could say ‘kutta’, I was happy. Living the dream, even! The roads were well-paved and the buildings didn’t have paan stains on every wall. I was surrounded to the point of being swamped by people of all races, from far away countries that spoke a multitude of languages. It was different, fascinating. Vancouver happens to be one of the many multicultural cities where I didn’t stand out like a sore thumb but I was still an individual with a valuable story. So I embarked upon a perilous journey, fraught with dangers of the unknown, personal demons and skeletons in closets. A generally non-judgemental folk (not necessarily including High Schoolers here), allowed me to experiment with clubs, volunteer organisations like Leave Out Violence (LOVE), subjects I liked, and an education system wherein my future did not depend upon the much dreaded End of The Year Final Exams. I explored this new land, while at the same time delving into the depths of my mind, my thoughts about religion and spirituality, my sexuality (I could be something other than heterosexual and that would be okay? Mind blown!), my passion for history, psychology, sociology, and other social sciences, and my music (I went to my first live concert!).
I found ways to express myself positively to the people around me and suddenly, I didn’t feel as socially incapacitated and oppressed as I did in India. I’m not implying that India doesn’t have its glories for me. As cheesy as I may sound, growing up in such a tight knit society that was above the petty grievances of religion and language barriers with an unquestionably peaceful co-existence (SHIKHAR), gave me a well-rounded perspective of society and the relationships we form in it, making me what I am today.
A part of me will probably always be the eight-year old Rhea who eats pani-puri at the roadside stalls every other day (which may or may not be hygienic), and buys 50 paise Coffee Bites by the dozen at Mahavir’s.
I realize that I’ve probably been a little too candid in this emotional purge of words, and that makes me feel vulnerable, so I shall end this rather cathartic rant on a quote from one of my favourite poems:
“I am large, I contain multitudes.” –Walt Whitman, Song of Myself. (Section 51)
- Gargi Parkale (Guest Blogger)
A Place to Call Home
the noise of the
turbines,
the abundance of
x-ray machines,
the chatter of people
some with tears, some
without;
they start to get to
me.
I walk.
left.
right.
while pulling this
bag of mine, I think:
this is it. I’m
leaving home.
it starts getting in
to me.
this is it, I’m
leaving home
in hopes of finding a
better place
to call home.
- Jose
Where I Grew Up
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| (source: www.freehdw.com) |
I grew up in a country full of history,
From the Spanish Era to the Americans,
From Martial Law to People Power.
I grew up in a country filled with passion,
From sports to flag-waving
From one helping hand to
A community.
I grew up in a country
That never loses hope.
From one war to the other,
From one calamity and another,
My country stands still.
We may cry,
We may fall,
You may stick us with dirt,
With trials,
With tragedies,
We will stand up.
And we will continue
To survive.
Because I grew up in a country,
Where there is unity.
Where love, hope and passion,
Are our inspiration.
For we are a strong nation,
That will continue to hold on
No matter what the situation.
- Janine
