A discussion on Sunil Govinnage’s Black Swans:

An exploration of the Sri Lankan migrant identity down under

Part 2

By Dilshan BOANGE

The ‘generation gap’ theme

Continuing the discussion from the previous part of this article, this concluding installment’s first focus falls on the topic of ‘generation gap’. The migrant dilemma of an ever increasing ‘generation gap’ between the first generation migrant and their progeny (the second generation) is evinced to an extent by the conversation that starts between Jayadeva and his son Asela. The seemingly trivial matter of Asela’s inability to accept that his favourite ‘Aussie rules’ team as not undefeatable and that it could lose matches belies a very strong element that shapes the character and psyche of Jayadeva which is linked to Buddhist ways of accepting impermanence.

The fact that Jayadeva wonders whether it is too complex a truth for a nine year old to grasp is probably a question that shows the gaps in the two cultures. The one that Jayadeva grew up in and the one that is shaping his little boy who is in a very impressionable age. This aspect of the story can be seen as demonstrative of the ‘generation gap’ theme that takes a very significant dimension in certain works from streams of Migrant Writing.

The politics of names and issues in assimilation

Aseal’s entry into the story creates pathways for another significant discussion line to be opened related to the predicaments and scenarios faced by migrants in the challenging process of assimilation, and that is the politics of ‘naming’.

The Shakespearean loftiness in the ever famous ‘What’s in a name…” does not apply with validity here. No, it is more a case of the politics of naming that rings out in a more Kunderian outlook that does not view naming and renaming as an ‘innocent process’ but very much a political one at heart. Asela is called ‘Sam’ by his mother who feels that their son should be addressed in a Australian sounding name for socializing purposes for better integration intentions.

Jayadeva’s wife Malini expounds a very pragmatic rationale for opting to give their son Sam. She has apprehensions that the Australian way of short forming everything from Australians (as Aussies) to Jayadeva (as Jay) and even Christmas (as Chrissie) will eventually lead to Asela being shortened to something “nasty” one can assume what is meant is –Ass. And of course that will compound the dilemma of the migrant who must bear the burden of being the ‘cultural other’ irrespective of unflattering shortened name tagging.

Therefore to avoid such marginalization Malini seems to come out as the more pragmatic and farsighted of the two. The reason that Jayadeva resents Asela being called Sam is more to do with his Sri Lankan cultural senses and sentimentalities and of course his need for originality of identity.

The fear of being uprooted seems to have taken root in Jayadeva. This shows what may be interpreted as somewhat of a socio-cultural dichotomy between Jayadeva and Malini as they have divided views though forming essentially a single entity as ‘parents’.

A Sri Lankan dimension in choices in naming

What I feel comes an interesting juncture from this point of the story is how it does reflect some of the colonial influences that shaped Sri Lankan society when it comes to choices of naming persons. About two generations ago many urban inhabitants would opt for ‘Anglo Saxon’ Christian/first names over the more traditional Sinhala ones. In the case of some who in fact had been given Sinhala first names as stated by their birth certificates were addressed in ‘English sounding’ pet names or familial names like-Jimmy, Harry and the like, which became socialized to the extent that it becomes the name by which the person is known in society.

Therefore the introduction of a pet name of sorts into the lager social context has significant implications when the matter of identity is looked at. Although not really from this very argument angle of the ‘local sounding’ Christian name being obscured over an ‘English sounding’ pet name, a classic example of the pet name becoming standardized in the social sphere can be seen in former Minister and veteran politician Batty Weerakoon whose real Christian/first name is in fact ‘Richard’.

Malini’s rationality and the theory of Homo economicus

Returning once again to the character of Malini, one may view her as a rational being whose maternal instincts seem to be well geared for survival and progress, and may be in fact thought as the more emotionally fitter to traverse what may seem to a migrant as unpredictable paths of socio-cultural ‘evolution’ in a foreign land where assimilation is key to material success. It is possible that Malini values assimilation and the prospects of economic gain that could be bettered through it, over emotionally driven struggles to retain cultural identities that are now far from them.

In this line of discussion I would like to cite what was said by Prof. Nirmal Ranjith Dewasiri of the Colombo varsity’s History department in a lecture during the third year in my undergraduate days. Prof.NRD said that the present age of human kind has been labeled by certain schools of thought as of –‘Homo economicus’. Amongst the traits that are defined to establish Homo economicus is rational thinking and behavior with the objective of furthering ‘economic gain’. It must be kept in mind however that this is a very narrowly basic definition on the concept and is by no means comprehensive or conclusive.

There are many attributes to this theory that can be judged as negative depending on what socio-cultural angle it is weighed out. With the basic tenets of rationality for the objective of furthering ecomonic gain in mind I am of the opinion that the story posits Malini as more Homo economicus that her husband Jayadeva. However Jaydeva’s ponderings that hit on the good attributes of the Aussie system which is strongly linked to the money factor and his earning capacity bring out the Homo economicus dimension in him.

The ways in which both he and his wife devise strategies for investment clearly show how that they carry the sensibility of Homo economicus.

A discrepancy in Asela’s character portrayals

Moving onto the character of Asela (a.k.a Sam) he is presented as a well adapted Aussie boy who does not carry the emotional baggage of the first generation migrant that is found in his father. However the text does seem to indicate there is some disparateness at one point in this picture when looking at Asela’s own words (in dialogue) compared to what the prose narrative presents him as.

When gazing at the swans with his father the young boy says –“We don’t have black swans in Sri Lanka do we, do we?...” This set of words seem to denote the boy’s psychology as being somehow in solidarity with Sri Lanka to the extent that he feels it nearer by virtue of using the word ‘we’ and not having black swans in his own context. If the line by Asela had distanced Sri Lanka from his own context and spoken it as ‘there aren’t any black swans are there?’ or ‘you don’t get black swans in Sri Lanka do you?’ a more unified character of Asela could be deduced through the elements of prose narrative and dialogue.

Hansa Sandeshaya and room for textual enhancements

The narrative of the story refers to the classical Sinhala work Hansa Sandeshaya which is a marked element from a point of intertextuality, which has thematic resonance. However the particular poem from the Hansa Sandeshaya is not cited in the text and not made part of the narrative. Greater cultural value could be added to the text in my opinion had that particular verse been produced in the narrative itself. Being a work in Sinhala how can such a piece be added when one is writing in English with English alphabetical characters? After all the Sinhala words must present their meaning to an English readership as well one may contend.

The question would seem very valid from the more traditional craft of novel/fiction writing. I believe that an answer to this can be seen in a number of contemporary novels of which, the Booker prize winning The God of Small Things by Arundathi Roy may provide a good demonstration. Some of the Malayalam poems that Roy as included in her novel are written in English characters (therefore there is some textual depictions of how the words may be pronounced, since poetry after all is best read out) while the meaning of each line is provided as an English translation within parenthesis just after each line of the poem. This technique I believe can be adopted to add more value to the work of SG, as a cultural product.

Jayadeva –God of victory: an oxymoronic symbol?

At the very end of the story the scenic description that conjures in the reader’s mind when the text narrates the descending darkness claiming the black swans into a mergence and obscures them from clear sight, a somewhat poignant tone comes out. Is it possibly an image of how the migrant mindset may see grimness in his own Sri Lankan identity becoming gradually obscured? In that sense the scene may have symbolic value that works in a metaphoric method. The darkness could well be the white Aussie culture, engulfing the migrant’s original identity with its barbecue curry chickens! After all, the poignancy of one such as Jayadeva is understandable, since he acted out of some sensibility as Homo economicus choosing to migrate in hope of greener pastures.

Yet this sentimental being finds himself not fully triumphant in a land where he silently feels a stranger when compared to his land of birth. And one may question is the protagonist himself to be a symbol? It is ironic that his name translates to Sinhala as ‘God of victory’ when his psyche seems to say he is uncertain of how if he is in fact really and truly is victorious.