EXPAT LIFE

Monita Pesumal takes a deep dive into why no one navigates emotional contradictions quite like a Sri Lankan expat

YOU NEVER REALLY FIT IN You’re not from the country you now live in but after a few years away, you’re apparently not fully Sri Lankan anymore either. Your accent is slightly off – you pronounce the word schedule like your British boss but still say machang on personal calls. When you go back home, people say things like: “You’ve changed, no? You walk funny now.”

Thanks, Aunty. I just have joint pain and unresolved identity issues.

VISITING HOME IS A WHOLE PRODUCTION We love going home. We really do. But the planning begins six months in advance – dates negotiated like a peace treaty, Emirates versus Gulf Air debated like political parties.

And don’t even get me started on red-eye flights. We will complain about them for weeks: “I will NEVER take a night flight again!”

Narrator: She absolutely did.

Yet, there’s nothing like walking into your childhood home at dawn, greeted by your parents’ warm hugs and sleepy smiles.

WE FEAR THREE WORDS: VISA RENEWAL DUE The existential dread is real. Even if you’re a model resident who recycles plastic and pays bills on time, the words visa renewal send you into a spiral: What if they don’t renew it? What if I have to pack everything? What if this is my last Zara haul ever?

Bonus points if your mother starts praying extra hard during your renewal month. “Don’t worry,” she says, “I lit oil lamps for you.”

THE GIFT GIVING NEVER ENDS There is no such thing as visiting Sri Lanka empty-handed. Every trip home becomes a logistical nightmare of gift stacking, suitcase Tetris and wondering anyone really needs that XXL Adidas hoodie in 35 degree Colombo weather.

You’ve bought perfumes for uncles you haven’t spoken to in seven years, chocolates for children you’ve never met and somehow still forgotten your dad’s socks.

YOU MISS HOME BUT LOVE YOUR FREEDOM This one’s tricky. You ache for the chaos of Sri Lanka – temple bells, loud friends and midnight drives down Galle Road. But you also enjoy eating cereal for dinner without judgment or not being asked 15 times a day when you’re getting married. You miss family, yes. But you don’t miss random aunties asking why you’re ‘still abroad when we have great jobs here now.’

You love Sri Lanka. You just love it more when it’s not in your living room 24/7.

YOU ALWAYS END UP BACK IN THE GULF Europe is beautiful. Asia is vibrant. But when the plane lands back in Bahrain, there’s an odd sense of peace. The desert heat hits your face like a brick wall, yet somehow it also feels grounding.

And you know where the best shawarma is. You know which supermarket carries your favourite sourdough bread. Your barista remembers your name and spells it correctly. That’s love.

Somewhere along the way, this sand filled, AC blasting, constantly under construction place became home too.

YOU’RE ALWAYS EXPLAINING YOUR LIFE Yes, I’m Sri Lankan. Yes, I was born in Sri Lanka. Yes, I go back often. Yes, I have a Sri Lankan passport. Yes, I eat string hoppers – and no, they’re not the same as noodles.

Your identity is a puzzle that even you’re still piecing together. And that’s okay, because diaspora life is messy, beautiful and constantly shifting.

YOU LIVE IN TWO WORLDS AT ONCE Emotionally, mentally and spiritually you are never in only one place.

Your body might be at work in Bahrain but your mind is thinking about Diwali celebrations back home. You’re chatting with your friends in Nugegoda over WhatsApp while ordering shawarma in Adliya. Your playlists have both Yohani and Coldplay. Your fridge has both Za’atar and sambol. You exist in two worlds – and somehow, you’ve made that work.

And that’s how it feels to be a Sri Lankan overseas.

We left but we never fully left. We adapt. Even when life abroad feels overwhelming, when silence grows loud or packing feels endless, we hold on to the little things – memories, rituals and voice notes.

Whether we’re sipping kahwa in the Gulf or sitting in a Colombotuktuk, we know exactly where we come from – we carry it with us and we like it that way.