Born into a masala of cultures, with a heritage that infused the sweet scent of ghee with the ooze of maple syrup, an adventurer heads from her Canadian homeland to the swelter of a new world that immediately felt like home.
Standing with a glass of wine in my hand, I survey my surroundings. I’m in the backyard of a friend’s home near the braai, where a variety of meats are cooking. There are chops, steaks, sausages and sosaties being grilled and a potjie pot bubbling over an open flame nearby. On a side table, there’s pap in a bowl next to potato salad, and I’m munching on a samoosa as a snack.
I arrived in South Africa a while ago with a loose plan to stay for about three months. Seven years later, I feel like a local and can finally pronounce “boerwors” like a champ, ‘ch’ straight from the back of my throat, run ‘robots’ at just the right time, and no longer remember how to use ‘just now’ in any other context than the South African one.
Born in Canada to Indian parents, I’ve gotten used to the gastronomic blending of cultures and it’s always been a delight. My pastas were infused with rasam powder, turkeys stuffed with cumin and cinnamon and smoothies enhanced with turmeric.
We’d eat dosas by a bonfire, make rotis on the barbecue, add maple syrup to veggies infused with garam masala, throw lobster in our curries and wash down golgappas with Moosehead Lagers from Canada’s oldest independent brewery – unique scenes found only from Indian families living in Atlantic Canada.
It was outside of home and away from the local Indian community where confusion began. At school, I was the only Indian kid in my class and even though my friends didn’t treat me differently, I felt the disparity.
They spoke about their summer vacations where they played games like lawn darts, ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and went to Camp Glenburn. I longed to be able to integrate into their worlds and be a part of the majority.
At home, I was clad with Indian attires that I hated wearing and partook in rituals that I didn’t understand. I’d carry a tray that held a flaming cotton ball doused in ghee and lose count of the number of circles that I needed to make around statues of Hindu deities.
We’d ‘bless’ them with uncooked rice grains coloured with turmeric and red powder and ‘fed’ them yoghurt and nuts that we then ate to be blessed in return. My summers were spent in a dreadfully hot India listening to aunties, uncles and cousins laugh ‘endearingly’ when I made efforts to speak Hindi and laying sick from insistently eating the street food (a habit I’ve retained).
I eventually outgrew acting like a spoiled child brought up with Western comforts only when one of my teachers asked me to document my journey and present it to the class once I got back. This gave me a whole new perspective on the country where my parents are from and I developed a deep appreciation for the culture.
This also sparked curiousity about other cultures and so began an 18-year journey of travelling and living in different countries. I wanted to delve into the unfamiliar such that daily mundane tasks always felt like an adventure.
I immersed myself in the monoculture of Japan, the diverse cultures across Europe, the spiritual aspects of South-East Asia to the spiciness of Latin America.
I loved every aspect of this exploration and proudly thought of myself as a citizen of the world and a cultural voyeur. When I met other Canadians though, we didn’t become fast friends based purely on our common nationality.
I noticed that other nationalities did bond on that fact alone and wondered if this was because of Canada’s multiculturism – although celebrated, still created a divide? I felt no closer to Canadian culture (we don’t really say ‘eh’) apart from my passport, my accent and the maple syrup in my fridge; and although appreciative and proud, no real connection to my Indian heritage.
When I arrived in South Africa, I saw a beautiful potpourri of mixed cultures that made me feel right at home. I realise now that this is because multiculturalism welcomes all and it reminds me of Canada.
If heritage is the inherited ways of life – taking what works and leaving behind what doesn’t, how wonderful to be able to choose from an array of cultures. I can choose to embrace and incorporate something from as many as I see fit.
I get the richness that comes from a nation of people from different walks of life, the choice to adapt different practices into my life, and the opportunity and sense of adventure to explore and learn about new cultures all the time.
Being here has allowed me to embody my differences and embrace my diversity instead of struggling to identify with one. I’ve learned that it’s in these mixed ingredients of life where I can find my home.
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