Immigration is a big issue in Britain. Hardly a day passes without it being mentioned in the news, with some arguing over the exact number of immigrants in the country while others openly voicing fears that immigrants are staining the whiteness of the native Britons.
Listening to British domestic radio or watching TV, one should be forgiven for thinking that most Britons see their country as the most desireable destination on earth. One can even detect a kind of smugness in the tone of broadcasters when they discuss topics such as the rate of immigration to Britain.
But matters are not that simple. While it is true that every year large numbers of people come to Britain, legally or illegally, to make a life over here, it is also true that annually thousands of Britons flock to leave the country and live overseas, permanently.
For example, in 2006, the latest year for which migration statistics are available, just over half a million people from all over the world came to live in Britain while 400,000 people left the country for good, of whom 46 per cent, or 185,000, were Britons.
I can well understand the Britons who decide to emigrate permanently. What they leave behind is a lifeless, sunless, grey, wet and dismal country which they exchange for warmth, hospitality and life. The native Britons are naturally insular and asocial; they generally lack emotion and their ties to family and friends range between weak and non-existent. So, when they depart their country for good, all they leave behind is the physical entity called Britain; family and friends will be of marginal or no importance.
But the same is not true of people from the Arab countries and elsewhere in the Third World who come to Britain. Few come because they have actually decided in the cold light of day that it is a nice place in which to live. I certainly have never met anyone who has come here on that basis. In fact, most end up here either for economic reasons or, like myself, because of misfortune. And most consider their stay in Britain temporary.
"Temporary" is in fact the key word here. It is the belief that their stay in Britain is temporary that sustains many Arab and other Third World immigrants in the British wilderness. It is the belief that, eventually, they will reunite with family and friends in their countries of origin that helps to keep them going. That is certainly the case with me and, although I have no statistics to demonstrate how widespread this feeling is, anecdotally I know I am not the only one.
However, time does not stand still while we are doing time in the British wilderness. The reunion that we yearn for is not just for our soil but for those we have left behind. And, for us, our ties to our families and friends are not marginal. They are the core of our lives.
However, we are getting old, and our loved ones back home are getting old, too. Our countries and our societies are also changing, mostly for the worse. When we return, will there be anyone there to greet us? Will we be strangers in our own countries? Like the prisoner in the movie who has spent so long in prison that, when he is released, he is unable to cope with freedom and commits a crime so that he can return to prison, will we turn back and return to the British wilderness, defeated and broken?
Those of us who are in Britain out of choice, either for economic reasons or for some imaginary benefit we think we will gain and eventually take home with us, should think about what awaits us if we forget that time will not wait for us. And those of us who are here because of misfortune, our life and destiny, as with our past, will remain a hostage to misfortune and circumstance.
