Brighton may be called home but what about ingrained nationalism?
I’m a normal Brightonian so obviously I wasn’t born here. As the song I co-wrote centuries ago says:
“I wasn’t born here but I was born to be here In between the Village and the Palace Pier. I love those characters, they’re so hard to believe. There’s Witty Dick with his leather skirt and his ten Pekinese.”
Ten points for guessing that was about Kemp Town. I came here, like so many others, because it seemed like an island of liberal freedom in an ocean of intolerance. But I wasn’t born here, so sometimes it’s difficult to feel that it’s really my home. I understand what Indians, Bangladeshis, Italians feel. One of my best friends is a Bangladeshi young man. He says “Sometimes, Bill, I feel like I want to go home,” but he was born here and he has only rarely visited Bangladesh in his almost-twenty year life. Every relative he has is Bangladeshi and so it’s difficult to be English.
Scottish sandhills
Every relative I have is Scottish. Although I was brought up in England, I spent every holiday on the seashore in Ayrshire, Scotland. It was idyllic, running through the dunes around sandhills. Is there a better place to be? I persuaded my sister to play cricket with me on the shore and I ran up a score of 856 for two on the first day and the game was all over in two days after I declared and bowled her out for 43 and then 29 to win by an innings and 784 runs. She never did play the second test. However she then spent her time writing and this is a great poem:
An Ayrshire Cemetery by Cathy Smith:
The North Sea’s gales howl through the headstones row after row of uniform grey granite. My favourite uncle, killed at his work, in the row reserved for all those dead on that day. My grandparents close, and I feel their closeness.
My baby cousin, claimed by TB – no flowers now his mother shares his space. His sister, father, cousins; Kings and Patersons. Thirteen family plots, a Scottish clan, together, family-minded. I feel the sense of belonging, here in death, I used to long for from my distant English life.
Flying the flag
I might have told this story before but it’s worth repeating. When England played Germany in the World Cup Final. I watched it with all my Scottish family – they’d fought two wars against the Germans but they supported the German football team against England. It wasn’t a goal, according to them. It’s called anyone-but-the-English syndrome. Nowadays, though, you could call it racism. To me it’s simple prejudice but, do you know what, even now I find it almost impossible to support the English. It’s ingrained in me. During the Euros I saw all those England flags around and I was tempted to make my own Italian flag for my window. I’m sure there were lots of Italian flags in Glasgow at the time.
Home ties
Two things follow from this. Number one: of course it’s appalling to be racist and I’m never going to beat up anyone English, but it’s very hard to get rid of all that ingrained and unconscious nationalism that I was certainly brought up with. I’ve just come back from Wales and I see the same there.
Number two: I was at the Albion last year when football commentator Jonathan Pearce said his sons support the Albion but he can’t, as he was brought up to support Bristol City. I’m similar: I would love to support just the Seagulls but I was brought up supporting Kilmarnock, and I can’t stop now. It’s all very well to say “just do it” but the heart is the part that makes us right or wrong and you can’t control the heart. It’s all about love. That’s why my Bangladeshi friend feels he’s Bangladeshi, although he’s hardly ever been there. That’s why I feel I’m a Scot from Ayrshire, although I haven’t been there for ten years. It’s partly about what you grow close to when you’re young. It’s all about home. It’s half a century ago but half of me feels home is those sandhills. The other half is the pebbly seashore of Kemp Town. Home, what does it mean? If you don’t know what to call it, you can call it love.
Bill’s Shorts
save one person and you save the entire world… amnesty!
Amnesty is a great organisation that fights for people’s freedom worldwide regardless of creed or colour. Their magazine is great and I thoroughly recommend it. Of course, Amnesty is famous for its comedy benefits too and the magazine is anything but miserable despite the subject matter. Be inspired, join today and here’s some of the good news from this week’s Amnesty magazine.
From Cameroon
Student Jean-Claude Roger Mbede, who was serving a three-year prison sentence for alleged ‘homosexuality and attempted homosexuality’ has been provisionally released pending an appeal.
From Gambia
Dr Amadou Scattred Janneh was released on 17 September. He had been sentenced to life imprisonment with hard labour for treason after being arrested for possessing T-shirts with the slogan ‘End to Dictatorship Now’.
Malala fights for life and education
Malala Yousafzai is a 15-year-old student and activist from the Swat district of Pakistan where the Taliban have at times banned girls from going to school. The Taliban are intent on silencing Malala. Despite being shot in the head and neck in October this year, Malala has come out of her coma and will continue to campaign for women and girls’ rights to education.
Gordon Brown, now the UN Special Envoy for Global Education, launched a petition in Malala’s name “I am Malala” to demand that no child be left out of education by 2015. UN Secretary general Ban-Ki-Moon has announced that November 10th will be celebrated as Malala Day. This is what is best about Facebook and Twitter, finding out and sharing the news about remarkable people such as Malala.
Bill & Pal
Bill and Pal pretend to be Pete and Dud but with no swear words because it’s The Latest and we’re not top shelf, just top drawer:
Bill: I’m back home in Cardiff now, sorry I’m late with this but I’ve never seen a pigeon farm before.
Pal: And never will again, probably!
Bill: Ah, you are an astrologer, aren’t you?
Pal: No, just thinking once you’ve seen one you’ve seen ‘em all!
Bill: I’ve seen thousands now.
Pal: Show-off!
