One of the hardest things I’ve found about being a migrant was the fact that you have to start afresh in a place to which you are not connected and do not belong. You leave your personal memories behind and so much of what you remember and know is not shared by many of the others around you.
I was fifteen when we moved to Australia from Malaysia and I can still remember how everything in the new country seemed alien and strange. The food, the people, the smell of the place, even the sky looked different. Our relatives living here seemed different to the versions we saw when they visited us in Malaysia. (I can’t explain it.)
I used to envy M who could talk about and point out all these places from his childhood – this street that he lived on, the schools, the buildings that no longer exist around the city, the places he used to go to, where he did things. All my childhood places are in another part of the world, and because they are literally so far away and mostly inaccessible, they have become remote in my mind, too.
My childhood experiences, too. You watched Play School and Skippy the Bush Kangaroo? Well, I watched Cumi dan Ciki and Drama Minggu Ini. You ate vegemite sandwiches and sausage rolls? I had nasi lemak and pisang goreng. School? It went from 9am to 3:20pm for you? For me, 7:20am to 1pm some years, 1:10 to 6:30pm other years (or something, I no longer remember exactly). And so on.
For many years I hated that feeling of not quite being in either country – always In Between. This year, however, something’s changed. Is it because I’ve been learning so much about this country and love it? Is it because this year was the magical two-oh – I’ve lived in Australia for twenty years now – and suddenly it’s as though enough experiences and memories have accumulated here? Or maybe it’s just that I finally feel comfortable here.
Yesterday I felt really happy when Sirexcat asked me, “Was it you fifteen years ago who did…” (Referring to an event I spoke at as a student many years ago.) Now I have history and connections here. I belong.
This post inspired by Sirexkat’s question, continuing to ponder Nabil Maynard’s post on home, and then reading Real Public Librarian on the importance of belonging.
Categories: belonging, personalhistory
14 Comments
I know the feeling although it didn’t take me quite as long to feel comfortable. Maybe 12 years? Being out of uni and in the workforce helped a lot. 🙂
I also know just what you mean. I’ve never changed countries, but I’ve changed states many, many times. I always hate the question “where are you from?” because the one place I feel the least “from” is the place where I was born. The longest I’ve ever lived within 100 miles of any other place I’ve lived is 9 years. I was just starting to build up the memories there when we moved.
But on the other hand, moving increases your knowledge of other people and other ways of doing things. I lust after being “from” somewhere, but I relish knowing first-hand what it’s like to live in very different parts of the county.
CW, your post is right on the mark and closely resembles my ‘migrant’ experiences too. And just the other day I was describing ‘afternoon school’ to some friends, who couldn’t quite understand the logic of starting lessons in the middle of the day, _after_ lunch.
When I was living in Perth Spoon would always point out his old playgrounds and where he’d hang out after school as a wayward teenager – I’ve always wanted to be able to do the same.
At the moment though, I’m still feeling ‘in between’, even though I’ve spent more than half of my life in Australia. I think, like Iris says, moving states / cities within your own country also brings those same feelings of connection and belonging.
12 years is still a long time, Mooiness!
Iris I completely agree about learning about other people and other ways of doing things! I love comparing and contrasting the quite different approaches and ways of doing and seeing, and always love finding out about new cultures. At times I also relish my role of being cultural interpreter!
Hey Anna! (oops reminds me I still owe you an email – my bad!) Isn’t it always infuriating when others can’t understand your experience? Or when having to explain everything reduces it all to a pile of mere facts, without any of how it actually felt?? And isn’t it wonderful when you finally find others who can relate?!
Maybe now skribe will understand my mad obsession for dragging him round to all my old schools and favourite stomping grounds last time we were in Singapore 🙂
It’s been twenty years for me, too – more than half my lifetime.
Hmm… too many thoughts to put together here. Good post, cw.
Hey, didn’t you blog a couple of months ago about…..
Maybe blogging can speed up some kind of “belonging”?
(Glad to have inadvertantly highlighted where you already are).
Oh, I understood. What I couldn’t understand – and from their bewildered expressions neither could the teachers and principal – was why we had to do it in the middle of school hours.
Toxicpurity isn’t it strange to realise, “more than half my lifetime”? Before we know it it will be “most of my lifetime”! Thanks for the comment 🙂
Did I blog about this earlier, Sirexkat? Will have to look through.. it doesn’t surprise me if I have, though, this being a recurring theme that I ponder on and off periodically. This time it’s been very rewarding to be able to share it with so many who can relate!
Skribe I had a good giggle when I read your comment! Last time we went back to my old school, thankfully it was public holiday so there was no one around. The gardener was a bit suspicious, though… I would have loved to have seen the Malaysian school girls of today but I suppose M would have had the same response as you 😉
Sorry, I wasn’t clear. I don’t think you’ve blogged that one before.
What I meant is that you will probably have people recognising you and associating you with a particular corner of the blogosphere…asking you “hey aren’t you the one who blogged about…” types of questions…and that it’s only taken about a year or so to get that level of belonging.
Singapore is littered with school girls. It’s hard to avoid them.
You know, if I had the chance to bring Spoony to my old schools and college in Singapore I’d bring him in the middle of school hours too. I’d probably even introduce him to my math teacher. But the main reason would be to get a great meal at bargain basement prices at the school canteen…$0.40 for a bowl of noodles? cheap! $0.50 chicken rice? rip-off!
You’re right, Sirexkat – it’s taken much less time in the blogosphere to feel a part of it 🙂
Skribe I suppose you’re right. Although if you go to a school on a public holiday (which is what M and I did), it’s deserted.
Anna I know what you mean! But would school canteen food still be under $1? I ate at a college canteen in March in Malaysia and the meals were all under $5, but definitely over $1… inflation..
I know what you mean, except your new place is my old place. I went to school in Perth and drag my husband around to places I remember. It’s very different now from what it used to be.
TB-)
tb-) there’s something very satisfying about going back to old places, isn’t there? Especially when there are lots of obvious changes…