I just finished reading Sarfraz Manzoor’s book, Greetings from Bury Park: Race, Religion, and Rock ‘n’ Roll. They will be publishing it in the States and for anyone who likes non-fiction, I would recommend it. While his love of pop music is discussed in the book, it is much more about his struggles with being a first generation Brit. Manzoor even said it himself during his lecture last week that his story is extraordinary as well as extremely ordinary. Being the new generation in a new country, bridging the gap between a new lifestyle and your parent’s customs, is a typical story.
I was in the middle of reading this book, in fact I had it tucked in my purse on my trip to London on Sunday when I boarded the bus. I sat on the top deck of the bus by myself until a man of Indian descent, probably my age, climbed the stairs to the top deck with his son who looked to be about six years old. They sat next to me on the bus and I listened to most of their conversation the whole ride. While the father had a very Indian accent, the son had a very British accent which led me to wonder if the little boy was first generation British. Their conversation was the most serious I have ever heard between a parent and a child of that age.
In Sarfraz Manzoor’s book he talks about how hard his father worked to move his family to England. In fact there were eleven years where his father worked in the factories of England to make money before his mother and the children could join him. One of the major rifts between father and son comes from the son wanting to enjoy life, fall in love, have hobbies, etc. when the father felt like these were all frivolous pursuits. Listening to the father/son conversation on the bus, it was as if the book was in some ways playing out in front of me. I heard the father ask his little six year old son why it was important to own property (couldn’t hear his answer), tell him that he needed to start investigating careers because he had “a little time left before he needed to decide”. At some point during the ride the boy said something that must have been taken as a whine, but let me note, as a parent, I know whining (they call it a whinge) and this child’s tone and manners were impeccable. The father cut him off and said “Whinge, whinge, whinge, I am going to start taking 10p from your savings for every whinge and if it gets to be a problem it will go up to 50p.” He told him that he needed to start focusing on the positive and learning instead what he had control over in his life, so that if these things did not make him happy, he alone had the power to change them. I don’t know if the six year old picked up on the life lesson, but I heard him loud and clear.
1 comment:
I learned a similar lesson from my doctor in Huntsville. Dr. R, who was born in India, has always been a big library supporter. In fact, during the 20+ years of our association, I have sent most of the library staff to his practice. One day he had an intern doing rounds with him at the clinic and he told us this story.
When he was growing up in India, he was able to walk to the library only once every two weeks. He would choose the longest books he could find because they "lasted longer." As he walked home, these boys would laugh at him and call him names. His comment was, "I knew that the only way for me to have the life I wanted was to learn as much as I could and although I didn't want to be teased, I kept going to the library and getting books." His face broke into a big smile and he said,"I have been back home and gone to that little library several times. Those boys are men now and they still sit in the same place. Now, however, they do not laugh at me."
This conversation gave me more insight into this man than any other we have had. I still think of it often.
Post a Comment