The Poet’s Corner Wanderlust |09 December 2017

‘Island girl. Indian blood’,

I laughingly tell my friends,

But, truly, the joke’s on me.

I was born in one country,

Where my parents tried to all ends,

To raise me by the rules of another.

And so, I grew up with very strict curfews,

Four languages, not too many.

And an identity complex,

Because I couldn’t define myself in any of the above.

This will only ever truly be understood,

By children of expats, first-generation,

A funny way to call it; naturalisation,

Who by no fault of their own, are asked,

With very judging eyes,

“So which do you love more? India or Seychelles? Come now, no lies.”

How do you expect me to answer that?!

I had school in one country,

Vacations in the village of another,

University in neither.

Always moving,

Changing,

A nomad, never truly fitting in

ANYWHERE!

 Thus, I believe, the itch was born.

I get jittery spending too long in one geographic,

In one word: Claustrophobic

In the discovery of the new,

Being on the go,

I forget the fancy fiasco,

Of trying to answer my “Who are you?”

My soul has an itch,

Deeper than any physical dermatome,

A cancer that’s spread and eaten away at the mysterious me,

Until all I can think of is the next journey.

They say the best stories are found,

In the pages of a passport,

My passport says it’s bound,

Aching and craving to be free,

For the fairytale to begin,

Without the happy ending.

Thank you very much.

Can there be anything in this world

More uplifting to your faith

Than to see the majesty of creation

With your very own eyes?

Is there anything like immersing yourself

In culture, monuments, food,

Beaches, cities, mountains,

Caves, valleys, tunnels?

Finally realising, that everywhere,

Everyone bleeds red...

That there’s a language, and it’s universal,

We smile in it,

Laugh in it,

Cry in it,

Breaking in an ancient tongue that we so easily seem to have forgotten.

Is there anything more soul-affirming than learning it again?

So no, don’t ask me if I’m Indian or Seychelloise.

I would rather be a woman,

A person,

In this vast universe that fits so neatly into the palm of my hand.

A synonym for world peace,

If only you’d understand.

The more I travel, the further I go,

The more I find out who I am.

One day, I hope I venture out far enough to finally, finally

Meet me.

Salma Farook