ARVASHNI SEERIPAT
THE summer heat hit us like a wall when we landed in New Jersey, eight years ago. The heat hugged us with a strange familiarity; one of the Durban humidity but without the comfort of all that we knew.
These first steps set the tone for our lives in the United States. The constant paradox of living - energetic excitement and enthusiasm for a new place coupled with the intense loneliness that comes with being 13 000km away from home.
The magnitude of a move overseas never leaves you. It settles into the corners of your life, quietly filling the spaces of your existence, reminding you in moments of joy that key people are missing, and in moments of sadness of the opportunity that you have been given.
Work brought our family to New Jersey. The thrill of an adventure in a new land propelled us. That meant leaving everything we knew back in South Africa; family and friends as we explored this alien landscape for the adventure and opportunity that we knew existed. The joy and drama of large family gatherings were no longer a part of our lives and our circle upon arriving was extremely tight – we knew three people! It took us all a while to settle into our new life in America.
Eight years on and two constant companions walk alongside us every day: loneliness and gratitude.
The loneliness never leaves you. You watch family celebrate from more than 13 000km away. Video calls replace the touch of a loved one, the hug of a parent and the shared memories that only your sibling will understand. It hurts that you miss celebrations, and it is devastating when you can’t be there in moments of sadness. It hurts that you are not in any of the family photos and when you do visit, the table holds photos of the past you.
What tugs the most is that you are not a part of the daily laughs, the jokes, the day-to-day mundaneness – you are no longer in the “inner circle”. It is in those moments that adventure whispers in your ear that we chose this distance, and just like our lives are moving on, so are the lives of those back home.
Then you find a new rhythm to create spaces and connections - technology enables this. I speak to my parents and siblings daily. You wait for those WhatsApp messages, and then you send more! You try and get home as often as a 16-hour flight will allow and you wait for your family to visit you. This constant companion, loneliness, is a wonderful teacher about priorities and the fickle nature of time. The distance teaches you to cherish every moment that you can with loved ones. Those of us who have made this choice deal the joy and sadness that comes with it.
There is a loneliness that permeates deeper and speaks to identify. This loneliness transcends your immediate familial connection, and tugs at that part of you that seeks to belong. Indian indentured labourers were brought to South Africa by the British between 1860 and 1911.
The first footstep of the diaspora was taken when they crossed the Kala pani (black waters). As a South African of Indian descent, I acknowledge my cultural ties to India, but I anchor in my South Africanness first and foremost. I belong to South Africa, and South Africa belongs to me.
The United States our home now. As of 2022, there are 140 000 South Africans living in the US. I am not sure what percentage of those are Indian South Africans, but those that I am familiar with have brought the resilience, perseverance and courage that run through veins of South African Indians.
This is true for many who live across the globe as well. This is where my children grew up and where, for at least the foreseeable future, they will reside. Is this a second step of the diaspora for us? Have we crossed another Kala pani?
South Africa will always be my anchor, but this tree is spreading its roots. Often I question where I belong? I don’t have answers to these deeper identity questions, but for now, I think these new roots don’t replace the anchor, maybe they add to the strength of the family, the person. I like to think that our reach as a people is stretching beyond the lands of our birth or the lands of our origins. Time will tell.
The other face of loneliness is opportunity. Making this huge trek across the globe was an adventure that constantly thrills me. The opportunity to move to the United States was one we embraced to see the world and grow as individuals. Education and personal security certainly played a role in our decision.
From the outside, the US can feel like a place filled with shootings, political drama and contentiousness – it is certainly that and more! It is also a place where my children didn’t leave the house for the first month we arrived here because they didn’t know how to deal with not having fences, walls and security systems surround our home. It is a feeling of personal freedom.
“Don’t lose our accent. Don’t become those people that start speaking like Americans! Don’t forget your South African roots.”
These were words our family and friends (with best intentions) said to us the day we stood at the airport, saying goodbye. In retrospect, it was their way of saying, “Don’t forget us”.
The thing is, it is hard not to start speaking like those around you – if only to ensure that you are understood. We are surrounded by all nationalities constantly – the diversity of cultures and thought is mindboggling.
Exposure to diversity seeps into your consciousness and changes you positively if you allow it to. It chips away at preconceived ideas; it smooths rough edges, and it forges new thinking. If you allow it, it makes you stronger. It takes courage to face a new world with new people. And we all do have slightly altered accents (some more than others!) because we have been altered forever as well. Diversity in the US challenges us to grow, but it never asks us to forget our South African roots.
When Autumn comes (called Fall here – I guess because the leaves fall?) it is time to fill our table with new friends, with pumpkins as we celebrate Thanksgiving. Our friendships have grown and the abundance that fills our tables today is new friendships. We gained a US family, one that has many South Africans, Indians from India and many other nationalities.
Our friends are our connections and links in this new land. Now, even though we miss our big family celebrations, we celebrate the 4 July (US Independence Day) and make new memories. Our photos are recent with new family members, and we make certain to take as many pictures as possible when we go home. Our family has grown.
As a family we count our blessings; our nuclear family is strong, we have an incredible family in South Africa and a new one in the US, we see parts of the world that we only dreamt of growing up and we are thriving. Looking at South Africa from afar has also given us new appreciation for our country.
YouTube is our friend. The vloggers, @Ordinary South Africans, @Sumeran Govender, @Made in Chatsworth, etc, keep us grounded in what’s happening in and around Durban. Gratitude is our constant companion. It enhances the tapestry of this complex life that we all live. It adds strength to the fabric, and it enriches the colours of our existence.
Its Navratri and before I even open my eyes (which is 6 hours later than back home in South Africa), I have more than thirty WhatsApps wishing me Happy Navratri. On some days it feels a lot, especially when I forget to put my phone on silent, and the phone chimes every ten minutes.
My husband normally mumbles at 2am, “put that thing on silent”. But most days, I am grateful. This morning my favourite South African food Instagrammer, @Tamarind and Thyme posted on how to make Halwa and Puri for the Navratri prayer, which I will make soon. We ate broad beans and dhall puri (which I made). It feels like we have not lost our South Africanness in the United States, even though we are 13 000km away, and two steps away from the land of our origins.
Seeripat was born in Chatsworth and currently resides in the US. She is a healthcare executive at a multibillion-dollar business.