This past summer my family and I made a trip back to Karachi, Pakistan for my sisters wedding. After 10 long years we finally decided it was time to go back, visit family and have a nice big wedding there. I don't even know how to explain... the exact same feeling Tambu had of Nyasha... was the feeling that me and all my siblings had wondered if that's how our cousins viewed us. You see.. my dads dad passed away when my dad was 12 years old, after that my father became head of the house hold. He went on to take care of his siblings as if they were his children. Eventually when he had kids he decided it was best to move to America for a better education ( just like big daddy decides to move to Britain, just like big daddy decides its best for the children) My family came here in 1993... we left everyone behind. uncles aunts and cousins. Since then we have made 2 trips back. each ten years apart. This time being allot older I was allot more aware of how my cousins treated us or how we felt. I remember when my dad would tell my siblings and i to talk to our cousins we would often look at my dad and tell him .. "we didn't know how to communicate well and make them understand us" ( as our Urdu was a bit rusty even though we speak it with our parents) . ( just like in the story where Nyasha and her brother are rusty with shona and the culture) I quickly placed my self in Nyashas shoes... I felt the same way she did when they arrived back after Britain. Her relatives viewed her as if she was this big thing.. as if she thought she was better... as if she knew everything... I know I'm jumping all over the place.. but you see its hard... its really hard to tell you how well this story fits right into how I felt being surrounded by cousins uncles and aunts in Pakistan. I'ts hard to hold back my excitement of how much this story fits in my life. I remember how all my relatives would ask me what it was like in America... asking me silly questions that most little kids in America would ask . Looking at me in a way as if they thought I was some great big thing... I felt as if they thought I was too good to speak Urdu with them... that wasn't the problem.. the problem was... it was hard for me to communicate. it was hard for me to know what to talk to them about... after being away for ten years... it was hard to just hang out with my cousins and be cousins again. They treated us differently.. my relatives. They treated us like king and queen... I hated it.. deep down inside I could see how angry this would make some of my other cousins jealous or bitter. Just because we were more educated or came from America our uncles and aunts treated us differently then they did with the other kids. I hated it... just the way Tambu hated Nyasha in the start.. ( I just want to add that this story really makes me miss Pakistan and my summer there and therefore its a really hard blog for me to write this week)
My cousins in Pakistan all viewed us as the rich kids from America and they viewed my dad as the respected well educated of the house. When big daddy arrives from Britain all the relatives tell him that if it wasn't for him they wouldn't be where they are today. I would often see my cousins going up to my dad and telling him that if it wasn't for him they wouldnt be where they are today . I also remember when we went back this summer my dad would have everyone in the house sit down for family meetings.. he would tell everyone that it was important for all the kids to get education and that education is what would help us all out. This reminds me of when big daddy tells everyone of the family branches that they must educate their children for later it will be in their advantage. Another common thing I saw in Pakistan in the poor areas was a girls education was not important.. she was viewed as nothing but a house worker and that the boy of the house was the one who needed to be more educated for he would carry the family name on and support the family. Girls in Pakistan are viewed as burdens... I think this story completely agrees with the same misunderstanding of how girls are burdens.
It's eye opening when you visit a third world country... it makes your appreciate all the small things that we take for granted. such as electricity or clean water or beds to sleep in . I believe that every child here in the united states should be forced to spend a month in a third world country. to see what life is like for those people. to appreciate the next time they decide to drink a glass of CLEAN water.. water that isn't boiled. I look at my cousins life in Pakistan.. she slept on the floor... boiled her water to drink... didn't go to college, instead she worked in the fields to earn money. ( just like Tambu worked in her family fields, just like Tambu slept on the floor) and was used more so for house work then anything else... and then I view my life here in the united states... drinking out of bottle water.. going to school and some days even skipping class... eating out with friends and doing as I please( the way Tambu describes her house compared to Nyasha's)... I am Nyasha and Tambu is my cousin... I am Nyasha and Tambu is my cousin..
.I wish I could go on.. but I feel as if I have ran around in circles with explaining myself. But I just wanted to say I love this book!!! and having ADHD just makes it that much better ;)
My cousins in Pakistan all viewed us as the rich kids from America and they viewed my dad as the respected well educated of the house. When big daddy arrives from Britain all the relatives tell him that if it wasn't for him they wouldn't be where they are today. I would often see my cousins going up to my dad and telling him that if it wasn't for him they wouldnt be where they are today . I also remember when we went back this summer my dad would have everyone in the house sit down for family meetings.. he would tell everyone that it was important for all the kids to get education and that education is what would help us all out. This reminds me of when big daddy tells everyone of the family branches that they must educate their children for later it will be in their advantage. Another common thing I saw in Pakistan in the poor areas was a girls education was not important.. she was viewed as nothing but a house worker and that the boy of the house was the one who needed to be more educated for he would carry the family name on and support the family. Girls in Pakistan are viewed as burdens... I think this story completely agrees with the same misunderstanding of how girls are burdens.
It's eye opening when you visit a third world country... it makes your appreciate all the small things that we take for granted. such as electricity or clean water or beds to sleep in . I believe that every child here in the united states should be forced to spend a month in a third world country. to see what life is like for those people. to appreciate the next time they decide to drink a glass of CLEAN water.. water that isn't boiled. I look at my cousins life in Pakistan.. she slept on the floor... boiled her water to drink... didn't go to college, instead she worked in the fields to earn money. ( just like Tambu worked in her family fields, just like Tambu slept on the floor) and was used more so for house work then anything else... and then I view my life here in the united states... drinking out of bottle water.. going to school and some days even skipping class... eating out with friends and doing as I please( the way Tambu describes her house compared to Nyasha's)... I am Nyasha and Tambu is my cousin... I am Nyasha and Tambu is my cousin..
.I wish I could go on.. but I feel as if I have ran around in circles with explaining myself. But I just wanted to say I love this book!!! and having ADHD just makes it that much better ;)
Great posting: your story is well told, and you elegantly describe exactly what the challenges are in these kinds of situations. It is an example of how good Dangarembga's story telling is that we can see ourselves in her story.
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