This has been an emotional month. A close relative of mine arrived from home to begin research for a PhD. It was an event that triggered a whole host of emotions, feelings that had lain dormant, almost unbeknown to me.
First, there was the waiting at the airport, and seeing and hearing my compatriots expecting the arrival of friends and family. It brought home memories that a don't feel at liberty to describe here.
Second, there was the arrival of my relative himself. Like me some years ago, he is here temporarily, looking forward to starting and finishing his studies, and to eventually returning home, with memories of the long, lonely tedium of PhD research firmly behind him.
I wondered to myself: will his stay really be temporary or will his world, like mine, turn upside down and transform his transient stay into a blurred, semi-permanent twighlight existence in limboland?
I called my relative's mother soon after his arrival in the UK. She was still upset by his absence. She said that his temporary departure for Britain reminded her of my own temporary departure for that country many, many years earlier. The temporary departure that soon turned into purgatory.
When my relative first told me that he intended to go to Britain or the US to do research, I wanted to warn him against the idea, to ask him to think carefully about the costs and possible benefits of studying abroad. This is because, in my view, the potential benefits are vastly overrated – both those of a PhD and of studying in a foreign country. However, I could not bring myself to do so. For his own sake, I hope I don't regret it.
