Call to Order
Not a ‘Person of Colour’
Not ‘Japanese’
Not labelled to please –
your ascription of my identity.
Tap on my skin (do you?) to layer on diversity
Use me (then); don’t loot me
Liberate us both!
Seize! This Opportunity!
But I digress…
Not Singaporean, apparently –
I’m not Chinese, you see
‘Basically Indian’, is their mentality
A neck dance; hands clasped above their heads –
A ‘Namaste’, I received
Laughed it off uncomfortably –
I did
But small town high school seniors –
were my kids
It happened again, once or twice
My conscience in my silence amplified
I fed them the magic
of Indian street food
My colleagues, with half a cuppa masala chai
I warmly soothed –
in the chilly, rain-washed mornings of early spring
They’d sip and savour, and with great feeling,
hand on chest –
“ii kimochi!!!” they cried
Ahh, peace at best!
But I digress…
Home economics grew culturally abound
with details to master Sikh prayer sweets in mounds –
of reasonable quantity yet they found
digestion a challenge without copious amounts
of ocha
They drank and drank, and my mind came to be:
Momentous in the occasion
Co-dependence emerged
Japanese non-wastage a Sikh offering served
P-o-C: Paradox of Competition –
Distinction only in difference; fragility of friction
yet through it deliverance, we seek.
Born in Japan and not Nihonjin
A puzzle to them I am, most certainly
My pieces lie adrift; I choose to let them be:
What learning is there in strict compatibility?
But I digress…
Talk of Baahubali over slurps of soba
My Japanese neighbour better acquainted than I
with Tamil film trivia
Her Setsubun my Holi
Her oden my daal
Her gyoza My gyoza
My diet wherewithal
Now I address:
Why do we draw lines on shores continually awash?
Why do we but critique the very opportunity we sought?
Did we think it’d be easy, leaving a zone of safety?
Did we think ascription could be met with aggressive
assertion of identity?
Yes we did; No we didn’t…
From necking a stereotype my kids now head-bobbed
Instinctive to the beat of a Bollywood track
In Hindi they’re now able, to sign off their names
I gathered my complaints and cleansed them into aims
Then came time for a speech on human rights
My conscience I uncapped and funnelled
In Japanese I practiced: this chance was ripe;
It couldn’t be met with tunnel –
vision: I must directly connect and properly impact
A tear fell; my words moved
My kids took notice –
An energy brewed
but for the moment, at best a day…
I try and try again
It’s my responsibility:
To teach –
beyond technicality;
To open minds,
towards common humanity
Yes I am, a Person of Colour
Yes I am, (not) Japanese
Yes I am, basically Indian –
Singaporean, even though I’m not Chinese
I am, who I choose to be
I am, not fixed
I am, a vessel
of a thousand colours mixed
And so are you.
by Mamta Sachan Kumar, Former ALT in Hasami, 2017-2018
