Mo ti ne dan lopital sivil Port-Louis an 1948, trwa zan apre deziem ger mondial. Mo papa ti morisien, mo mama ti angle, zot ti zwenn dan enn lopital dan Londres kot sot ti pe travay pandan lager. Mo bann suvenir Moris kot mo mo ti habite ziska laz diset an, se bann suvernir laplaz, lamer, me osi bann zoli kaskad dan lamontagn, bann gran lakaz kolonial avek zot lavarang vitre kot ti ena enn pake fuzer, palmie, antiriom e lot plant ekzotik. Nu zarden ti ranpli et bann zarb fritie, kuma mang, letsi, longan, goyav, friapen papay, …. dan bazar. Seki mo rapel, se ki ti ena enn kakofoni langaz dan Moris, tu dimun ti konpan reol, me zot ti osi koz zot lang ansestral – bhojpuri, indi, urdu, gujerati, frans, angle, mandarin, hakka.

and forests, markets, street vendors and most of all a cacophony of languages including English, French, Mauritian Creole, Bhojpuri, Cantonese, Mandarin, Hakka, Gujarati, Hindi … Linguistic diversity as well as religious diversity and tolerance of differences. Our mother spoke English, our father stuck to French, our maids communicated in Creole, the lingua franca that united all races cultures, the only language that was understood by all. Despite its universality, it was frowned upon by the francophones who feared that if their children spoke this language, they would not learn the prestigious tongue of their ancestors, French. I remember the narrow streets of my home town, Quatre Bornes, the deep canals on either side of the road that allowed rainwater to drain following torrential downpours, so common in summer, during the cyclone season. Next to the canals were tall bamboo hedges that ensured the privacy of affluent property owners living in those beautiful colonial homes. They were built of timber, cut from the lush tropical forests where once grew mahogany trees, now all gone. I completed my secondary education in Mauritius at Queen Elizabeth College, which has now become one of the most prestigious girls’ schools on the island, churning out numerous laureates. My family emigrated to Australia in 1966 as my parents wished for their children to go to university, and there was none in Mauritius. They chose Australia, which had only just abolished the White Australia policy. Mass migration of Mauritians was to follow, since now the Australian government was more concerned about boosting its population to fend against the yellow peril and was prepared to close its eyes to the colour of its migrant’s skin. We still had to provide evidence of European heritage to qualify for residency. Thank goodness all this idiocy is now behind us. As an islander, I suffered from pangs of isolation and longed to go to a ‘big’ country, live in a big city, but I underestimated the heartache of leaving friends and loved ones  behind, and the challenges of integrating in a new culture. I understood English, but Australian English sounded like a very foreign language and it took months to develop and ear even for ABC English. My memories of Mauritius have shaped what I am today. Despite having been in my new country for over 50 years, I still yearn for the  images, the scents and smells of Mauritius – the wet earth after the rain, the flowers, the fruit, the Indian delicacies cooking by the roadside … Join me in reliving the memories that shaped into being a Mauritian-Australian.