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iv. just an immigrant
If we were born in the cities we long for, Love ā Paris,
Prague, New York ā
what languages would they have taught us to speak?
ā āBroken Ghazal: Speak Arabicā
from Louder Than Hearts by Zeina Hashem Beck
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Arrival
i.
October 1998. When I first arrived
I did not tell anyone that I had
a rice cooker in my suitcase.
āYouāll miss rice over there,ā
my mother said. At Customs
the officer glanced at the letter
embossed with the college crest:
five yellow birds. āWhy would they
offer you a place at Oxford?ā
He shook his head and stamped
limited leave to remain.
ii.
Helenās Court was where they put
all the foreign students together
so theyād feel more at home.
A bedsit waiting for its tenant:
empty bookshelves; a quaint-looking desk,
a worn-out armchair; a lamp with a green shade.
I opened the sash window and heard
a faint trail of bicycle bells. āHome,ā I said
but it hurt.
iii.
The post-room: among the narrow
wooden shelves I was the only Wong there:
my parents would be pleased.
Mum told me she went to Ying Kee
to stock up on tea leaves, and to Mei Foo
where she knew the best fishmonger.
Her letters were full of questions:
how cold is Englandās cold?
Should we send more instant noodles?
iv.
Each week I went to Sainsburyās
to improve my English. Walking up and down
the busy aisles, I relished the sound
of each exotic word: courgette, crumpets,
Red Leicester cheese, horseradish.
I smiled. Saying it right is an art.
Here they actually have āChinese cabbageā.
At night Iād leave the butter and milk
outside the window to keep it chilled.
v.
On winter days when the sun
went missing, and I felt I was
an incomplete being, Iād visit Edamame,
hidden on Holywell Street just like
the other ramen place in Yaumatei
with its wooden screen doors.
There, people would queue for ages
for a bowl of miso happiness. Sometimes,
in the middle of my lunch at Edamame,
it felt as if me and my brother were
having noodles together,
as he asks me to repeat after him
the names of his favourite players:
Rooney, Fellaini, Rafael, de Gea.
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Trace
Whatever you say, donāt ask me where I come from. Iāve been here fifteen years. I went to school in Cheltenham. Iām a voter (but didnāt vote to leave). Iām good at saying āhow lovelyā, even when things go wrong. I live in a good postcode and have a garden of my own.
Whatever you say, donāt ask me where I come from. I have traded my country up for better air. Thereās nothing I miss ā not the sea of black heads in a metro station, certainly not my ageing relatives. Sometimes I think of char siu and chicken rice done the proper way ā half-lean, half-fat ā served with a dash of julienned ginger and garlic. I only drink lukewarm water. And I follow news on the protests over there,
night after night.
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London, 2008
The ashen-faced tr...
