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Toronto
Star,
OPINION,
Tuesday, February 7, 1995
On a recent
flight to Switzerland, the talkative and friendly Swiss flight
attendant asked where I was from.
"Canada,"
I said.
"Oh,"
she
replied spontaneously, "you don't look Canadian, but your
children do."
There was no
apology, distress, backtracking or dismay at her gaffe.
Once I realized
she was just being honest, I was quite impressed, and we began
an involved conversation about my roots, my heritage and why my
children are more Canadian than I am. We discussed everything
from my nose ring to my ethnic dress. Other passengers and
flight crew were drawn into the conversation and soon we had a
little social tete-a-tete.
In this process,
we all learned more about each other. It was quite educational
and inspiring for me because it had been so long since someone
asked me directly: "Where are you from?" That, as we
are all taught, is a no-no in politically uptight Canada.
Later, in Lucerne
we took a guided tour of the city. Our guide was a charming
Swiss lady. The others in the group were American. The guide
came to our group and said "I hear we have a Canadian
family with us - have you seen them?"
We proudly raised
our hands while she raised her eyebrows.
"How is
that?" she asked, and made no bones about being surprised
and unashamedly curious about us. She asked dozens of questions
that we happily replied to without any feathers being ruffled.
Throughout this
exchange, the Americans watched us warily while we expounded on
liberty, equality and multiculturalism in Canada.
An interesting
highlight of our tour in Lucerne was the Cathedral of St.
Francis Xavier, who had done much missionary work in Asia and in
the process had converted many Asians to Christianity.
Our guide
unabashedly kept referring to the Asians as
"heathens." She then pointed to a sculpture of St.
Xavier on top of the cathedral where he is portrayed with an
"Indian," as in Iroquois, complete with feathered
headband.
Our guide
candidly explained that the sculptor had no idea that it was
Indians from India among whom St. Francis had proselytized - he
only knew of North American Indians so he made a sculpture of a
Indian brave with St. Francis. Obviously, there never had been a
move to (politically) correct or replace the statue.
The tour guide
proudly ended the discussion by telling us that St. Francis
Xavier is buried in Goa, India, which we must know since we were
from that area. We did not feel the necessity to correct her and
say we were not from India.
The entire
episode was so natural and spontaneous that I kept thinking,
"Something is wrong with this picture." In Canada by
now we would have had a case of discrimination and racism. But
here we were and we did not feel the least bit maligned - just
amused.
It was refreshing
to be exposed to a candid change in atmosphere. We were
obviously and pointedly more alien in Switzerland that we ever
would be in Canada. Yet everyone was outgoing, warm, friendly
and curious as a puppy. I rarely have enjoyed talking about my
heritage as much as I did there.
The point is that
there is life beyond political correctness.
Sometimes we need
to rethink our options and priorities. And sometimes we need to
go away to do that better.
Copyright
© 1995 Toronto Star, All Rights Reserved.
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