A Search For A Home
Story of Inner Mongolian from PRC
An ordinary man sitting on the corner. He is on a mission. Mission to find a new home.
Came from a rural part of Inner Mongolia, an autonomous region of the People’s Republic of China, he is carrying hope.
Like any other fellow human, he wants to live in a place where there is a library even if it's an isolated part of town. A home where he can express his opinion and publish his lifetime journey, his experience, and his struggle. A home where he can travel without government watch 24/7 and practice his belief, Buddhism. A home where he can thrive with honest and hard work.
“Life there is not easy. But at least we have our animals /domestic/and land. Much better condition than our Uyghur brothers in Xinjiang ( northwest part of PRC).”
But having food on the table or shelter over his head is not enough for him. Just not enough.
The struggle is real and it is there.
He tried. He tried his best to live in his hometown. Ranked among the top student in not only his class but his town. After finishing secondary school, he wanted to pursue higher education but his dad had a different plan. Pursuing a career in a local government office, where he did the numbers. The pay was not great which is no surprise, nor did the opportunities. His noble wish to have a local library in his hometown keep denied due to unclear reasons.
He started to realize that the PRC government doesn’t want them to read, get knowledge, or thrive. Just like keeping them in the dark and in a long run they would stagnate.
“Do you know why?” I asked. He shrugged his shoulders. But I knew that in his deep heart he knew the reason why.
Maybe, because he is a minority. A minority belongs to different ethnicity, speaks a different language, and practices their faith. The common man became odd among the majority.
After having 2 hours of conversation, it was obvious that he had made up his mind to emigrate to another country. A various portraits of his family whether old or recent shoots… His mom, nieces, nephews, his dad, his grandad…
“I’ve prepared” he mumbled. Prepared to leave his beloved one and search for a new home.
“I can see” I replied.
I met him during my flight to home, Mongolia. At first, I thought he was native because he was speaking Mongolian until he put his passport on the desk.
He seemed to have high hopes to live in Mongolia. A new home where he is a foreigner on paper but native in his heart.
The only thing in my mind was how ones trying to escape from Mongolia while some dream of living there.
While some forget to appreciate the ones that they have, others dream of having them. Like this ordinary man wanting to have freedom.
As we just landed, he got a message on his phone. It says “… Have a safe trip to Mongolia Mr….” from the PRC government agency.
“You see, they watch my every move every time,” he said.
