Foothold

You would think he was a raving lunatic. Sputtering out seemingly random words and phrases from the local language, or the top ten favorite expressions of the kids. He could be in the shower, sitting in a cab, or staring out the window at a café. I move from being startled, to amused and then wonder briefly if he is on a slow slide to the looney bin.

Upon closer examination there seems to be a pattern to this madness. He appears to pick phrases that capture the essence of a language he otherwise knows not a word of. It is the Thai lyrical krap khun ma khrap*, accompanied by hands clasped in a wai, or the warmly laced Paggi ‘Bu* in Bahasa. A repertoire of sounds repeatedly heard, plucked and honed to perfection. Clinging to those words and phrases, you can almost feel fluent. You can almost ignore the privileged corner you are pinned to and feel in the thick of things. Yah you become a local bule*.

There are things the kids say once or repeat often that seem to capture the essence of their personality. You know them: Even if they are in constant flux and you are always playing catch up. So, you want to hold on to that fleeting moment. Repeating them makes the snapshot come alive and a warm glow washes over you. And you become your mother.

Being an expat you are constantly looking for a foothold. Repeating the rituals of making friends, a home, and collecting memories which glow warmly in its retelling. Home is a concept in motion. If you stay out long enough, even going ‘back home’ becomes a new posting. But the seasoned nomads learn to pick an essence and own it, defying, ignoring or immersing in other people’s realities. You become a part of that which you swore you never would. His lunacy is a foothold to belonging.

*
Krap khun ma krap (Thank you very much)
Paggi ‘Bu (Morning Mam)
bule (foreigner)