HOME......where is it?
I have read a book of essays written by the author M.G Vassanji who claims that the concept of home irrespective of identity markers is murky at best. In elegant prose he cleverly sinks the cumbersome ship called ‘Identity’. and declares that home is ‘Nowhere , exactly” and that is even the title of this provocative book of essays. It is a must read so should be picked up. However, the analogy which blooms in my mind is that of a treacherous mistress with multiple lovers. Nobody really gets to stay the night.
Musing about ancestral roots and migrations has given birth to literature and legislations. In Canada Multiculturalism is a federal policy and decades later the creation of parallel living is a firm entrenchment. A China town, Greek town and India town have become builders dreams who have plonked down rows of tasteless subdivisions and the ever present malls to service the suburbs of Mississauga, Markham, Brampton and Richmond Hill. Trees were uprooted all the traces of quaint farming communities permanently eradicated. God forbid meaningful architecture or serious culture rear their silly heads. The Go train, the giant Costcos, the Indian clothing boutiques and the restaurants offering bad Biryanis and kebabs not made of grass fed animals are the home building blocks. Its just like home warble an older first generation immigrant seniors and that is that. The author M.G. Vassanji traces the chronology of all this sinister activity over four decades with his masterful pen and just as one is convinced nobody is homesick he declares all migrants turned into suburbanites have been deluded and their claims of identity indicates they have in fact spring from “ nowhere, exactly.” Precisely, my opinion as i avoid the burbs clinging to the silly ‘do i need visa’ or ‘i get a nose-bleed north of st clair’ mantra. It could also be the condition of the dodgy innards of my 18 year old convertible. Highway driving has been set aside for now. especially if the destination is “nowhere exactly”?
A Canadian novel and a film have put Scarborough on the culture grid recently. It appears that a rich and near poetic brew of family dynamics and working class pathos are the garlands draped around heads of film makers , publishers and Directors of Theatres.. The state coffers spring open and Telefilm and Canada Council grants sprinkle tons of cash to help present the diversity oeuvre in all its deserving status. Check Canadian Politicians with knotted saffron hankies around their head eating ‘prasad’ in Sikh Temples. People flocking to Temples and festivals organized by people who have missed their real homes so much they are busy recreating them in Canada. Ex-Patriate international communities flourish all over the world. A touch of home is the desired necessity? Now what would the author MG Vassanji have to say about all this?. Are there fakers and poseurs entrenched in our society brimming with assumed nostalgia ? This is a knotty subject to pursue at any given moment.
Pendulums swing from side to side. Pushback is the emerging phenomenon of our time now. So if the theory espoused by an anointed son of CanLit in his weighty longish essays ,brimming with mischief, create mayhem what sort of pushback could emerge? The mind bogles but there is a smile on my face. Where are the naysayers? Hiding, I assume for a spell.
In my somewhat fanciful and grossly sentimental soul I have a life history of owning and disposing four homes. The attempt to create one in a foreign country, Morocco, was a total failure and having squandered a large sum of investment principle i returned back to my true home of many decades, Toronto, licked my wounds, churned out a memoir and converted a rented penthouse pad in Wychwood into the final home.
Interestingly enough when I left a home filled with memories, joy and doom I never missed it when i occupied the next one. If good furnishings move from place to place as do framed photographs of relatives and an art collection and burgeoning book shelves the nesting exercise is complete. This is home. It is as portable as are my life requirements.
In the history of colonization, food, dress, Art and Architecture all left some interesting imprints behind. The British used the baking techniques of French Chefs behind in Partitioned India and a pastry shop in Karachi, Pakistan will offer a superb ‘Eclair” which rivals a Parisienne one. Meanwhile the robes of an ancient Buddhist sculpture which were chiseled in marble resemble the pleated and swirling Greco/Roman tunic. Alexander the Great had entered North India and some of his soldiers settled there.? So a touch of home was hammered into foreign sculptures.
The best part of reading a well written constructed book is that it leads to questions and revised reflections. Battles have been fought for strips of land just because people had built their abodes there. Now if one throws in a dose of psych analysis is this the recognition of a possessive nature, greed or simply domination.? In some legal cannon if an intruder enters your home to either steal or kill and you disarm him by shooting him then you are off the hook.
The family unit defines a ancient social set up which may be dented but is still in place. Check the mobs of flyers at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Haj. Wherever the players settle or take root that becomes home. Every child is conscious of this stable notion and the ones deprived of it long for it. Is the longing then based on structure or behaviour? If we examine the crisis in Gaza the concept of home still lingers in bombed out homes. Some of the inhabitants have fled guided by the fear of death. Yet a large number sift the rubble to find some cherished object on which the presence of home can be pinned. A fortunate few will leave Gaza and become international migrants.in developed Western countries. Wherever they go they will recreate a familiar home for themselves and then move forward.
“We will never have a home” moan young first time buyers.
Given the obscene rise in Real Estate values young couples with toddlers in tow regard this renter status as a great tragedy. Their concept of family building is tied to structure. This is how divisions and lines are created. Some of them have returned to the homes of their parents to save and slog out the saving to buy a home plan. On the other hand the homeless tent dwellers in many cities do not feel this way. A roof over their head and any roof is acceptable. A padded parka, sleeping bag and a coffee mug is home.
It has to be familiarity with the ambience created by what one own materially which is stitched into lining of every concept of home. Nomads handle this very well. They simply carry their belongings with them and have no fixed address. Quid pro Quo.