Sarah's story

Hi, my given name is Saraswoti, but people call me Sarah for short. I was born in England (United Kingdom), but have been living in the US (United States of America) since 2008 with my family. I’m married with a school teacher and together we've two boys.

Physically my parents live in England, but they've created a “little India” there for themselves. They’ve been living there for the last 40 years, but they were born and brought up in Uganda. They were part of the “ethnic cleansing” campaign of Idi Amin, then President of Uganda.

I had to hear so much about this notorious leader when I was growing up. My brother did even more since he was born in Uganda and was old enough to lend his sympathetic ears when our parents needed them the most. My brother used to tell me “it’s your turn to listen to your mama and papa, I’ve done my part”. I guess he was tired of hearing my parents’ maddening stories about the country they were born and the way they were forced to leave, giving up everything they had earned during their lifetime, there, for free!

My parents are living the same life their ancestors had lived in India hundred or more years ago. For example, buttered-chapatti and spicy lentil soup are still their staple food. They perform puja everyday (pray mostly to the god and goddess of wealth: Gnash and Laxmi), mingle with their like-minded friends, snack on deep-fried foods and argue about Indian politics. However, unlike most of their and friends, my parents take chicken and fish curry once or twice a month, which Brahmins weren’t suppose to in India, they tell me.

I grew up with my elder brother. He is an intelligent man with an attractive body to go with his brain. He is a pediatrician, as my parents wanted him to be. He owns a mansion in Bedford, not far from our parents, and lives with his girlfriend. This is his 5^th girlfriend and my parents are hoping that she will marry him soon. My brother has three children from previous marriages; two of which live with our parents.

My brother grew up with a lot of manoeuvrability options! He was allowed to hangout with his colleagues until late at night, spend nights with his girlfriends, visit friends outside of hometown, say things he didn’t mean and no household chores were assigned to him. All he had to do was to bring A+s in his school assignments!

My mother calls me on phone most everyday and talks about my brother. “Your brother did this, or didn’t do that...”. I wish she would talk about me and my family sometimes. But I don’t tell her that. My husband tells me that I should let my feelings known to my parents. “You should tell them to find someone to listen to them,” he says. But I can’t. They are the only parents I got. I understand their frustrations with my brother. He makes tons of money but doesn’t retain them. He lives close to his parents, but never makes an effort to visit them. He is a doctor, but he does not know what medicine his father takes for his coronary heart disease. His mother is struggling to cope with her arthritis; he probably does not even know about it.

Our parents worked day and night in Uganda and had built an envious fortune, I was told. Even after immigrating to England, our father worked at two jobs and our mother brought home a couple of hundred pounds working at a local grocery store while we attended school. Working day and night and raising two small children in a new society must have been very hard for our parents!