ah yes...the mother country

Whoever thought of calling ones country of birth 'mother' as in 'mother country', had forgotten that the word does not have a blanket meaning.

Take for instance a mother with an illegitimate child she gives away at birth and does not look for, or if she does look, does not find again; or a mother that abandons her baby; or a mother who keeps it and is cruel or indifferent; or a mother who has other children and ignores this particular one because of bad memories she has about it.

If there are 'bad' mothers, indifferent, cruel, selfish ones, then sure a country can have the same nature. I am just awakening to a few unpleasant truths about my 'mother country' here.

To begin with I definitely am adopted, I am not completely legit. This now is evident by my alien status and discomfort in operating here. So last week I picked up some forms from the University I work in, and lo and behold every single one was in the 'mother tongue' which means that I don't understand it. Gentle enquiry into whether I could have it in the language I could understand was met with a firm no. The same goes for whatever information I am given at my place of work. Clearly I am not this mother's daughter. I am quite simply an alien intruding into the family, and as such I better learn the family's way of doing things or I am out. Fair nuff. I think I want out.

Then there is the fact that this mother is dishonest. I realised that I spend a large portion of my energy and time, either returning stuff I bought, and in cases where the offending shop refuses to return or refund, either getting it repaired or writing to the consumer authority. For eg. I buy a table lamp. Day 2 it does not work. I take it back and because I foolishly have binned the receipt - I have no choice but to get it repaired by the shop OR buy some fiddly bits of unnecessary things for the same cost. By the time the lamp is repaired, and ensconsed on my desk, it has cost me literally 4 times what I paid for it. Take a simple bottle of jam. I pay 200 Rs for it. I come home, open it and lo and behold it is spoilt. So I take it back. Cost of bottle of jam - 200 + cost of trishaw to and back.Thus my bottle of jam is 400 Rs. I buy an apple...same story. Take the water bill - wrong reading, Rs 4000 more than is right. Several calls, a trip to the water board and Lo the water bill is immediate Rs 400 more. So my conclusion this is a dishonest Unmother country.

This mother also has become murderous. Not one off accidental murder, or inevitable murder. Her children are killed. Regularly. With no compassion. Or conscience. Which is not just sad, but unacceptable. At least if the mother was distressed, or attempted to stop the death rate - sometimes of families, and even children - that would be something. But no. That does not happen. Your mother should not be a murderer. Period. What do you do if she is?

I just will bide my time, until I can leave this adopted parent, who clearly does not want me here. And is clearly not interested in my welfare.

Perhaps we would all do well, to wake up and take stock of our birthing national parent and ask ourselves what we see. It might be that some of the parents quirks are just human fallibilities of a mild kind, some might be inevitable snags of personality. But there also might be great big ugly
things visible. Its one thing to choose to love a mother, but then one assumes it is a choice made with eyes wide open, not shut.

Conversely, those of us who are adopted, and have left our birth parents for another chosen foster home parent, would do as well to take stock. What sort of adopted parent nation have we chosen? It is possible to have love, with clear sighted vision; acceptance of the weaknesses while rejoicing in the strengths. Too many of us are either too fervent in both praise and criticism of an adopted parent country.

Parent country? Motherland? I have been taking a long hard look at mine - not at the big issues but the little ones, the everyday ones. And I do not like what I see.