Back to enforced participation in protests? |
I am a Diaspora Tamil.
That’s what I am called. Misnamed. Technically I am an expatriate Sri Lankan
Tamil, but the word ‘diaspora’ reminds people of the Jews and therefore makes a
case where there is none. Smart move by
whoever started using that self-description.
Political smartness doesn’t percolate to us ordinary folk though. It’s not like every Diaspora Tamil has equal
rights and privileges. Most rarely speak
but everyone is spoken for -- spoken for by people who were not authorized to
do so. But that’s the lot of the
unfortunate all over the world, displaced or otherwise, misplaced or otherwise,
misnamed or otherwise.
People back home think we are having it good over here in Europe. That’s what I thought too of our people who
came here before I did. In a way it’s
true. We escaped the sound and fury
that’s the bread and butter of warring parties.
Our children were safe from abduction, weapons training and being put on
the line wearing a Tiger uniform with a cyanide capsule hanging around their
necks. There are lots to be thankful
for. Uninterrupted education for the
kids, routines uninterrupted by bombs and bullets, less tense lives and of
course enough of the good-life goodies that most people here have.
But home is home and this is not it. However harsh the circumstances, however
unpredictable life was, there’s a heart-string that we just can’t rip out of
some corner of the island that we once called home. Our children don’t have that problem. Their children probably won’t care. We still do.
That’s not all though.
For years, just because we happened to be Tamils from Sri Lanka, we were
subjected to all kinds of harassment.
First of all some (not all) of us had to lie through our teeth to get
here and stay here. It was tough for the
early birds. But later on it became
easier. There was a network of lawyers
to help. Even now, I hear, in England
there are lawyers, doctors and even torture-artists ready to help make a case
for asylum. It costs a lot of
money. The illusion of the good life is
a good incentive though. People will
subject themselves to cuts and burns to obtain the ‘torture victim’
certificate. The network will tell which
courts and judges are friendly or naïve or both.
Even if one gets residency without a scratch, it’s not
easy. For years we were harassed by the
boys. You all know who the boys were and
are. If you don’t know, ask Father
Emmanuel. He knows. We had to pay not for services obtained but
for being Tamils. Or pay a different
kind of price. We didn’t run away from
hurt to get hurt here. So we paid. Since we came as refugees, we had to maintain
refugee-need, they told us. We accept
that. It is logical. So we paid up and they used the money to buy
arms and keep the war going. To keep
the story believable we had to attend demonstrations where we were required to
tell the world about the suffering of our brethren back home. We did all this because if anyone asked we
could say ‘Tamils are getting killed in Sri Lanka, we can’t go home!’ People here didn’t really know or care
whether it was Tamil or Terrorist. That
was good. They didn’t know that most of
us did visit now and then. We even had a
good laugh about it.
Then the war ended.
It was good. Some of us had got
our papers, so we weren’t worried. Those
who hadn’t, were upset. That’s how
people had to create post-war horror stories of persecution. It went well with
the word ‘diaspora’. Jews. Persecution.
Genocide. It was a perfect
fit. No one asked us to leave. And there were no more ‘visits’ from the
boys. Indeed, the boys had found it
difficult to ‘visit’ even before the war ended. That’s because the boys were
banned.
We had it good the last five years. We went home.
It’s all good back home. No war.
No landmines. Even the Yal Devi is
running now. But just when I thought the
tough times were over, I was ambushed.
Well, all of us were ambushed.
The European Court of Justice lifted the ban on the boys. Damn! Damn! Damn!
It’s going to happen all over again. The boys will want money. They know how to make us pay, one way or
another. ‘Give or else!’ is pretty
scary, my fellow Diaspora Tamils will tell you.
I don’t know what they will do with the money. It seems that our brethren in Sri Lanka have
figured out the boys, but you never know with them. But right here, for me, things are
clear. So clear that a headache I
thought had gone away is splitting me beyond belief.
So if you thought I made it, if you thought life was good
and the grass was greener, think again.
I am flowered, if you know what I mean.
Upside down, I might add.
2 comments:
On the dot, but it won't happen again. You and I and our children will make sure it doesn't happen again. We will take care of each other. Guaranteed
This is spot on with all its horrors. In UK the Protection Racket phenomenon died somewhat after the demise of the Kray twins but sadly emerged again by the LTTE fundraisers targeting the Tamil businesses. Never for a moment did I believe all those demonstrators were there on their own volition and I was right. The LTTE scour the telephone directories for Tamil names that most go ex-directory or enter a fictitious name.
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