Only seven but grown up on a steady diet of TV channels that catered to the pre-teens and confidence injecting schools, this little girl was more sure of herself than a full grownup well into an established routine of life, having crossed the education and career hurdles.  On being asked if she was going back ‘home’ for winter holidays, she shook her curls and said, ‘Oh no, we are not going to Canada this time, mummy said we might be going to meet grandpa in Pakistan.” Excuse me! Does that mean that ‘home’ is not Pakistan any more which is but the country where grandpa lives! My shocked protests to the mother were laughed off. I was told I was attaching too much significance to what she said and so what, since her father was a Canadian citizen she considered it ‘home.’ It was then that I realised that the signs were all there. Replying in stilted ‘urdu’ to questions or just English is norm now. Nothing wrong with that, some may argue, others may blame the parents and schools, but where does this lead to? Are we so caught up in honing our kids at home while living  ‘abroad’ with bettering their performance in schools that they are not hindered by their ‘origin identity’? Don’t we realise the implications of this now, ‘ingrained’ training on the formation of these little mind’s? Is not a shift in identity discourse in children, especially for those living on foreign shores important enough to merit concern and elicit remedial measures at home? Should not such parents offer their children a healthy mix of national identity and culture while 
living abroad?

This is especially true for those expatriates who send their children to schools offering quality western education.  While the maulvi sahib might come for mandatory lessons, minimal interaction with the children at home in their language or not exposing them enough to the traditions and culture that is so vital for the formation of the national subconscious discourse
 within is damaging and is bound to create bigger identity issues.

As for those who have dual nationalities, it becomes a bigger dilemma to decide where they belong.

Having interacted with many South Asian families in England, I was struck by two opposing schools of thought. One group were so vehement in guarding their identity and culture that they frowned upon any outside contact of their kids outside the community. While the second group spoke with heavily anglicised and accented ‘Urdu, Hindi or Bangali’ and turned their noses up at ‘back home,’ a subject of much amusement and disdain. A common issue plaguing both was that of identity; many of the youngsters actually felt torn between deciding where they belonged. Alienated and never wholly accepted in society, they often clung to their own communities or hung onto the fringes of mainstream society, having mastered the art of absorbing barbs with their thick-skin armours. I often wondered at the dichotomous challenge people face when living abroad. Not an easy task when one’s parents or immediate family is burdened with hard life experiences and have faced prejudices and crippling bias.  Inadvertently this will impact how you rear your family.

As for those parents who may simply be treating the matter lightly, it may be better to make a conscious effort to imbibe their children with their language, culture and identity. There is nothing bad in considering  a third country, ‘home’ but it must not be allowed to eclipse the significance of the real ‘home’—the country of origin, the wellspring of your national identity and  real roots. Of belonging, of giving you that particular edge that stands you apart proudly among the world population.

A small victory, I have persuaded that dear little girl to wear a glittery little—native, if I may add—outfit resplendent with sparkles with a lovingly embroidered dupatta and glass bangles on the coming eid away from ‘home.’

Faryal Leghari is Assistant Editor of 
Khaleej Times and can be reached at 
faryal@khaaleejtimes.com