After a busy work week and gloomy days of Seattle winter, Sun finally peeked out of the clouds on a Saturday afternoon. I was people-starved and experiencing cabin fever. This was my chance to get out of my slumber and get going. I got dressed up, picked my sketching bag and left my apartment. My Uber was quick to arrive and I hopped onto it, full of excitement to finally leave my apartment after a whole week. The driver was a friendly man and in a minute we started chit-chatting and I soon learned that he was in his fifties, and of Kenyan descent.
Soon we hit Mercer Street. The traffic was kinda big, somewhat unusual for a Saturday afternoon. I wondered if there was a game going on that night in Seattle. He casually replied, "No, just people moving around, because they have a car." And that's how the whole conversation started about his dissatisfaction with American lifestyle in general. He did not approve of how people are always busy, overwork during weekdays and are busy doing high intensity activities in the weekend, only to return to the busy life the next day. Because of overworking, they tend to age quicker and look older than their age, he observed. Cultural norms such as kids leaving to be on their own at teenage, old people being left at old age care, people paying for themselves when having family dinners at restaurants, bothered him. He went on to tell fond memories of him and his family, how he and his brothers regularly meetup for dinner and have a great time bonding and sharing, how everybody is eager to pay and treat others, how parents nurture kids till they are self-sustaining, and kids care for parents in their old age. He had smile on his face and excitement in his voice while talking about this.
Turns out, I was not the only one. The driver was curious about my name too. After exchanging meanings of our names, I learned that the driver's doctor had given him this name after his birth. He was born in Albania and moved with his parents to USA later. He has close relatives in Albania, and he goes back and forth often. He wanted to know if I have good friends here and if I like it here. As the conversations got rolling, I asked him, "What do you miss about Albania?" And he promptly said, "Food. The meat here is not as rich in taste as there. So the dishes are not as delicious. Everything is prepackaged and preprocessed, that it loses its freshness." I agreed. I find the vegetables in USA to be much bigger in size and diluted in taste. He said his dad has his own garden and the produce from it tastes so good; much better than the supermarket food. I asked him if he likes to do gardening and then we got diverted into his life in Seattle and Seattle in general. When he dropped me off near my apartment, I showed my painting to him and he was happy to see it. After getting off the car on a happy note, I came back home with a sense of "I had a good day today!".
Now that I sat down to write after a long gap, I thought to myself, both these conversations had a nostalgia about one's motherland. We leave our homeland to another place to seek for something that is missing at home. But a faint scent of longing remains. There is always something that brings up nostalgia, that instantly transports to our homeland in our head, a childlike wish that the things we loved about our homeland were with us.
What is your nostalgia about your motherland?
You didn't write about yours ?
ReplyDeleteFor me , its the sunshine
ReplyDeleteWhat is yours?
ReplyDeleteI also have the same question
ReplyDeleteEverything about it. I just like to go there and breathe the city and its people.
ReplyDeleteWow, I hope you get to visit soon
Delete