Showing my daughter Pakistan, the country of my birth, reminded me I am part of something bigger
At first my daughter was excited about visiting the city of my birth – Karachi, Pakistan. After all, it was half her heritage and she’d heard about all the family over there she had yet to meet. But I couldn’t hide from her how nervous I felt.
It had been 15 years since I was last back; the negative western media headlines rang loudly in my head. How would I be received by the people who last saw me as a young, childless woman?
In the time since I’d last been there I’d lived in multiple countries and had three children. I had matured. Would they, as my people are prone to do, be as honest as they had been on previous visits about how they thought I’d look or be like? Would I even be able to connect with them after such a long time – let alone, would my child?
As our departure date neared, my daughter began to look increasingly nervous. “I was looking forward to it,” she said. “But now I’m not so sure.”
I had to take control of my feelings as they were impacting her. I had to remind myself that anxious thoughts can spiral out of control unless you ground yourself back to reality. So I decided, pursed lips and all, that I would just go with it – whatever happened, good or bad, I’d take it in my stride.
Thankfully, everything did go well. In fact, it went more than just well; it went better than I could have ever imagined. And much of that has to do with the fact I had my daughter by my side.
I’ve always wanted to take my children to see the country where I was born. It’s something I expect most immigrant parents want to do: show their children a part of themselves that perhaps remains hidden – especially if you’re trying to bridge two cultures yourself.
When the opportunity arose to visit Pakistan, I figured my sons were still young and perhaps wouldn’t enjoy the long-haul trip as much, but my daughter was of an age that she could not only immerse herself in the experience, but remember it when she was older.
I knew she would be seeing things she had never seen before: the poverty, the sanitation, the conditions in which some people lived. But again I realised that I was focusing on the negatives. What I hadn’t counted on was the connection she would make, not only to the place, but with the people who lived there. She saw a side to herself she had never seen before.
Just as I met family I hadn’t seen in a long time, she was discovering that she was connected to so many people outside the small family unit we have in Australia. There were cousins, aunts, uncles, siblings of grandparents – more family than perhaps she expected.
And I saw how it began to dawn on her how she was an integral part of a large group – a web with silky strings that tied her to this place, reminding her that if she were to ever feel lonely or lost, she would know that she was connected to something much greater than herself.
Seeing this country through my daughter’s eyes reminded me too that I was part of something bigger than me, and that it did me no favours to forget this. But of course it is easy to forget, when you get lost in your own day-today life, far away from the relationships that connect you through blood.
It’s different for me than it is for my daughter, of course. I can never forget my connection to Pakistan; the city where I was born, Karachi, is stamped on my passport. The genetics of my heritage are reflected in my facial features and skintone.
My daughter however is mixed race and will be creating her own identity as she gets older. But at least now she’s seen a side of her that’s just as important as the other side.
I don’t know what the future holds and when we will be making our way back to Pakistan, though I’m determined that it will not be another 15 years before I return. But I’ve shown my child how important it is to know yourself and to not forget that, even if you are from the west and half of you belongs here, there is another big side of you that will welcome you with open arms whenever you decide to go back.