So many parents, today, send their children overseas to the western countries to better their prospects, and secure that better future. A better life. A life they never had. So many sacrifices are made. Financially, emotionally. Time is lost. Precious time they will never get back. Their kids grow up and they don't get to witness that.
Some parents move across the world. They don't know anyone. They don't speak the language. The culture is foreign to them. And they are made to feel small by people who are small, mentally. Casual and minor racism faced on a daily basis. But it's a sacrifice for that better life.
And it breaks my heart to think two hundred years ago, three hundred years ago, people got onto that ship thinking they were going to be employed and earn in a foreign currency, a stronger currency; and send money home, or one day return to their /gao/. To their country. But, instead, they were made into slaves - regardless of their caste - and worked hard with the hopes of one day returning, of one day seeing their families, again.
Although a continued, new lineages formed. Roots lost over time, but fierce efforts were made to ensure traditions, values, and the culture lived on, for future generations.
Two random people, who never would have crossed paths, had it not been for the white man's greed and heartlessness, being from two very different states, one day, met.
And the rest was history.
--- Ink and Wander
YOU ARE READING
Thinking Out Loud
De TodoThe name says it all. I have a quiet demeanor, but it is not silent.
