My Mother

<p>MY MOTHER A SELF-MADE OUTCAST <br />I have a childhood memory of my mother’s satisfied and smiling approval whenever I readily replied: “I’m English.” I’ve forgotten what exactly preceded that kind of exchange between us. Come to think of it that was strange because no one had ever asked us whether we were English. My sister and I are English through and through. Both of us were born in Horsham Sussex.<br />My abiding memory of my mother is her brown eyes and black long lashes as she kissed and tickled me. When I was in my teens I wished I had her long black hair with a tint of brown. I imagined that my friends would admire the way my hair swayed as I walked. I could still see her glossy hair moving as she walked. My mother doesn’t have the complexion of an English person. She resembles some of the Spanish women we’ve seen when we’ve been to Spain for our holidays. It was by accident that I found out that she comes from the Philippines. We’ve never been to the Philippines. She’s never talked about the Philippines. I’ve never seen anyone from the Philippines in our house.<br />ROSA (2013): “…you have in many subtle ways spelled out the life journeys of so many Filipinos.”<br />WHAT BROUGHT YOU TO ENGLAND? (2014) “… is a very fascinating and enjoyable read. You have a gift of drawing your readers in and making them want to read on. I honestly couldn’t put it down yesterday.”</p>