Extravagant lattes and street-corner conveniences aside, I’m coming to truly appreciate some things about my life at home. Following my experiences, I’m beginning to note that which I often overlooked. The drinkable water which comes right from my tap, utensils such as forks and knives, or even the toilet paper with which I wipe my ass, have ALL taken on a meaning they hadn’t had before! Sure, they mean I’m at home in a life of modernity and convenience, but they also mean I’m blessed. These small things represent something greater. They embody a life in which I’m lucky and free. One in which I go where I like, express what I wish, choose what I eat, and worship or denounce whichever god or monster I fancy. And these are all privileges that didn’t have to be.
I was extremely fortunate, to embark upon the world speaking English and holding a western passport. I never asked for permission to visit any of the places I did. At most I might have filled out a form and purchased a visa. But I can’t say the same for many I met. The friends I made in other countries, the same ones who showed me their uncompromising hospitality, may not ever get the opportunity to visit my home. Depending on where they’re from, the citizenship they hold, the lottery which takes place, and the subsequent decision of governmental departments, they may or may not be granted admittance to my country or others around the world. Until I’d found these friends, I'd never had reason to think about my own freedom.
And what of the “language barrier?” Speaking English, I found this barrier to be more often than not, simply an obstacle. Of course not everyone spoke English. But as a general rule, those I encountered spoke a hell-of-a-lot more of my language than I did of theirs! None of this is something to be proud of or sorry for. It just is. And it’s based on something as arbitrary as the place I was lucky enough to be brought up. Fortuity is relative, but I am lucky by any standards. The language I speak and the country in which I live WERE my ticket to the rest of the world. Before I had been told these things and now I know them to be true.
I was extremely fortunate, to embark upon the world speaking English and holding a western passport. I never asked for permission to visit any of the places I did. At most I might have filled out a form and purchased a visa. But I can’t say the same for many I met. The friends I made in other countries, the same ones who showed me their uncompromising hospitality, may not ever get the opportunity to visit my home. Depending on where they’re from, the citizenship they hold, the lottery which takes place, and the subsequent decision of governmental departments, they may or may not be granted admittance to my country or others around the world. Until I’d found these friends, I'd never had reason to think about my own freedom.
And what of the “language barrier?” Speaking English, I found this barrier to be more often than not, simply an obstacle. Of course not everyone spoke English. But as a general rule, those I encountered spoke a hell-of-a-lot more of my language than I did of theirs! None of this is something to be proud of or sorry for. It just is. And it’s based on something as arbitrary as the place I was lucky enough to be brought up. Fortuity is relative, but I am lucky by any standards. The language I speak and the country in which I live WERE my ticket to the rest of the world. Before I had been told these things and now I know them to be true.
