DUAL IDENTITIES
Navigating two worlds
BY Monita Pesumal
True story: living as a Sri Lankan expatriate in the Middle East is a delicate balancing act, which presents both challenges and opportunities. It’s a journey of self-discovery, adaptation and sometimes even loneliness. It is like being the star of your own soap opera – equal parts hilarious, heartwarming and hair-raising.
From language barriers to cultural misunderstandings, navigating the complexities of expat life can sometimes feel overwhelming. Yet, it’s through these challenges that I’ve grown stronger, and more adaptable and empathetic towards others.
From the get-go in 2018, Bahrain embraced me like a long-lost cousin crashing a family reunion. The locals with their big hearts, warm smiles and extravagant hospitality made me feel right at home – even if I couldn’t quite master the art of pouring karak chai without spilling half of it.
Embracing Bahraini culture meant diving headfirst into a whirlwind of cultural festivals, shawarma kiosks and Friday brunches. And let’s not forget the joy of navigating the bustling souks where bargaining is an art form and getting lost is a rite of passage.
Or my hilariously awkward attempts at speaking Arabic – cue the puzzled looks and gentle corrections from the locals or how they choose to respond in perfect English to my survival Arabic.
Despite being miles away from my birthplace, my Sri Lankan identity remains an integral part of who I am. Amid the sandstorms and skyscrapers of Bahrain, my soul is always determined to keep the spice alive.
Picture me in my tiny kitchen, attempting to recreate my mom’s fish cutlets with a mishmash of ingredients that I scrounge from the local supermarket. Spoiler alert: my kitchen escapades often ended in smoke alarms blaring and emergency takeout orders.
Yet, amid the culinary chaos, I always find solace in whipping up my own version of Sri Lankan food, no matter how unauthentic it ends up, often resulting in a culinary catastrophe worthy of a Gordon Ramsay meltdown.
It’s been six years and yet, the sight of a Maliban Marie biscuit at the biggest hypermarket always makes me squeal. I even take photos when I spot Sri Lankan snacks, spices or beverages like ginger beer while out and about during the weekend. Sometimes I even listen to Manike Mage Hithe on repeat, just to remind me of where I’m from.
Yet, amid the laughter and chaos, there’s a lingering feeling of displacement that tugs at my heartstrings. Despite my best efforts to integrate into both communities, I often find myself feeling like the outsider looking in. My friends are scattered across continents and I struggle to find a sense of belonging in either.
In Bahrain, I’m the Sri Lankan girl with a penchant for spicy food and awkward attempts at speaking Arabic. And in Sri Lanka, I’m the expat who left home years ago, and now struggles to reconnect with a place that feels simultaneously familiar and strangely foreign.
It’s a lonely feeling, being caught between two worlds, never quite fitting in anywhere.
Navigating this dual identity crisis is like trying to untangle a knot of spaghetti – frustrating, messy and often futile. I long for the comfort of belonging; of being part of a community that accepts me for who I am, quirks and all.
Yet, as I navigate the highs and lows of expat life, I’ve come to realise that belonging isn’t about fitting neatly into a box.
It’s about embracing the messy, complicated and wonderfully diverse tapestry of identities that make me who I am – a Sri Lankan in Bahrain, half an Arab in Sri Lanka and everything in between.