Zukiswa Wanner

Soooo, on my way to Heathrow Airport last Thursday I was listening to LBC. The topic of debate centred around some proclamation made by a police chief or other who stated that owing to requests, in a certain London borough, if suspected criminals requested an officer of their religion to come and interview them then the police force would grant that request supposedly because a police officer of a similar religion would be more understanding of the criminal’s reason for acting the way they did. Now, in any other country this would be a non-debate. If you got to Rome you are expected to do as the Romans do and follow Roman law right? But nuuh. Not in politically correct England. A Sikh leader called to weigh in on the debate stating that he thought it was a brilliant idea as it would help victims of crime from marginalised communities to better able relay their complaint since some of them have been in the United Kingdom for 30 years but cannot speak English.

And this is where the debate lost me.

You are in an English speaking country for 30 years and do not bother to learn English?!?! I am sorry. Surely if you are going to migrate to another country and further, be a citizen of that country the least you can do is try to integrate into that community and the most primary way to integrate is to LEARN THE LANGUAGE of your chosen new home?  

A country like South Africa has 11 official languages so this might be tough for a migrant but even then, English is spoken widely and I know this for a fact because when I go to my local police station (or post office, or supermarket) and the person who is serving me speaks to me in seSotho which I do not speak, they revert to English. But England which has a single homogenous language?  

I do realise that when people move from their home country they get homesick and might seek others from their home country who they can relate to. But I think it is also the greatest folly if all one does is hang out with people from their home country and not try to make friends with those of your host country or learn about your host culture (which includes the rules and regulations of that country)…particularly if you choose to be a citizen of that country.

The fact that the London borough I am talking of even agreed to try something like this out shows some serious problems. In an attempt to be politically correct, this can only result in the ghettoization of any group of people instead of creating a common bond between people. Can you imagine someone arrested by Hillbrow Police saying, ‘I refuse to answer any questions unless I can be interviewed by a policeman of Igbo origin who is a Pentecostal?’ You would be laughed out of the police station (before some not-so-pc policeman klaaps you for trying to be a comedian). And yet this is exactly what the police chief and her cohorts who agreed to this are saying.

I was returning from the 31^st Cambridge Literary Festival and I thought further on this. How successful a writer would British writer of Pakistani origin Kamila Shamsie be if she said she was only going to do her readings to British audience of Pakistani origin? I have never been to Pakistan but I know I certainly have an idea of it after reading In the City by the Sea. And where would Gillian Slovo be as a writer if she had decided that because she is an English writer of South African origin she was only going to read writers of a similar background? She certainly would never have given us the Orange-shortlisted and very enjoyable historical novel Ice Road and literature would be all the poorer for it.

Perhaps there is a need to rethink migration before one makes the move. If one is going to move to another country it is of utmost importance that there is an attempt to learn the culture of the new country. Failure to do so can never be positive. Not only does it cause the ghettoization of the migrants but can lead to serious misunderstandings between the old residents and the migrants.

Your thoughts on this. Should migrants to another nation demand separate treatment from the locals because of their different cultures? Or should they integrate and just get on with life?

I arrived at Heathrow on BA 054 at 7 on Saturday morning. The pilot announced that temperatures would be 15 degrees Celsius which made me depressed no end because, me thought, I was coming to summer. Worse, the Joburg that had been cold for weeks had, the day before, found itself nice and warm. Irish blood coursing through my veins?

I think so. I immediately rushed to the toilet before passport clearance to put on a polo neck underneath my t-shirt. Nuuh. It would not make sense to put the poloneck sweater on top of the t-shirt. The t-shirt, you see, was making a statement. It states, ‘When I read about the Evils of Drinking, I gave up Reading.’ It got the immigration official cracking up, moreso when he heard that the reason for my visit was for a literary seminar and I am a writer. I had to clarify to him that I am a writer – not a reader…to which he rightly stated that the latter make the best of the former.

Two hours later, I was on the coach to Cambridge. I saw some non GMO Jersey cows eating grass which gave me a bit of hope for braais in the UK. While on my way to Cambridge I found out something else. With the bus moving at snail pace I learnt road works are not unique to South Africa. I am still unsure why the British roads were being worked on though. It’s not as though they are hosting 2010.

Arriving in Cambridge was a bit of a revelation.

While looking out of the window on the coach, I saw some intelligent looking types. Think girls in grungy intelligent clothes, dark hair pigtailed, eyes bespectacled and riding bicycles (therefore stating without yelling it, ‘I am an environmentalist). It was enough to intimidate. Things were only to get worse when I got to Downing College, which is where I am staying now – as I have mentioned before, even the buildings look intelligent. Cambridge is that type of town that has set its reputation of intellect for centuries that when I went into the convenience store and the shop assistant said ‘hello’ to me on the first day I arrived, I wondered whether saying ‘hello’ back was an intelligent enough response. I blame my intimidation on years of being told to be in awe of the town and its people in the colonies – and the fact that I never did get straight As in Cambridge O and A Levels and this town was responsible for those examsJ.  

The 31^st Cambridge Seminar on Contemporary Literature (yes I know. Quite a mouthful but I think the Biritish Council would like every participant to say that in full. Kinda like SABC send a directive to writers that they should always say ‘FIFA Confederations Cup’ as opposed to Confed Cup) has been hectic already.

We arrived on Saturday and Sunday already saw us taking part in some hectic sessions from 9 in the morning (uhhm organisers. Anyone heard of ‘beauty sleep’? Some of us have to work on it y’know!).

Author Jim Crace was wonderful to listen to and I shed my inhibitions of whether I sounded intelligent or not by asking him some questions during his discussion session. Then in the afternoon we had the brilliant poet and novelist, Jackie Kay who pretty much set the bar that the other participants are going to have to beat. I am no poet but it was lovely to listen to a poet who conversed with her audience rather that to the audience. Poets generally sound awfully clever – well she did too – but I felt I could relate without her poetry being facile. Yes Niq and Ndumiso, I actually understood poetry that was not Andrew Marvell or from past centuries.

Today we heard of the Politics (title of book) of sex by Adam Thirlwell which set moderator Damian Grant on a certain path but that that’s a story for private consumption. My compatriot Gillian Slovo got the discussion sounding serious when she read an excerpt of her memoirs. Before I came here, I was rereading the Canterbury Tales and I could not help thinking of Tony Harrison as having managed to bring forth that 13^th Century English poetry tradition and modernised it well enough to fit his 21^st Century audience.

We closed with Blake Morrison who I was lucky to have lovely dinner conversation with but cannot remember honestly what he spoke about – a long story of a reception at a downtown bookstore  before the session where one, two or three (but who is counting?) glasses of wine were consumed.

Today promises to be exciting as I get to hear readings from fellow participants.

Will keep all of you posted….but now I sleep. Yes, British Council has us up to our necks and away from mischief that I am only able to write this in the wee hours of the morning.

But I am loving it. Although the weather is still uncertain whether it wants to be summer or Joburg Highveld winter weather from one hour to the next.