Today we go out of town to visit the famous 'Snake Temple' and then come back to go, in the evening to a film showcase as part of the Tropfest film festival we have been lucky enough to be here for. To be honest Georgetown seems always to have something going on in the arts scene, though the seats are surprisingly sparsely populated when we get there. The films are a set of four shorts from the Berlinale short film festival, followed by the main feature, 'Transit', directed by Hannah Espia, who is kind enough to stick around for a Q and A session afterwards. And all in English. We are so lucky to speak what is an increasingly international language as our mother tongue.
I will begin with the Snake Temple. Though I rather expected to find this, the reality now is rather disappointing compared to the history of the temple. The temple is dedicated to Chor Soon Kong, a Buddhist monk who sought spiritual enlightenment in the jungle and offered sanctuary and shelter to a variety of jungle snakes. As legend would have it, once the temple was constructed, the snakes came along by themselves and made it their home, feeling, perhaps, the presence of Chor Soon Kong's spirit, knowing with him they were safe and welcome, two things which I doubt many snakes associate with humans.
It's bittersweet. Because yes, the snakes are still there. But they are curled on specially made stick frames in front of the altar, have had their venom removed for safety reasons (pertaining of course to humans rather than the snakes, who now, presumably hunt and protect themselves rather less effectively.) Theoretically the snakes still voluntarily turn up or stay there, and simply know to perch on the frames, not minding the constant flow of predators who approach and stare at them. I don't want to get libellous but I find it hard to believe in the continuing free will of those snakes to be there. Certainly the two pythons, one trapped in a tiny airless perspex cage, rather heartbreakingly hitting its head on the walls and ceiling, as if confused by its confinement, and one out on display for the purposes of being dumped round tourist's necks, are not there of their own accord. It's not so much sanctuary and captivity.
"See the snakes," says one of the nearby shop holders, "they live here. This their home."
The concept of 'home' has changed rather drastically for these snakes.
We don't stay long.
This theme of how we classify 'home' is further developed this evening. 'Transit' explores the impact on migrant workers in Isreal and their children of the government practice in 2009 of deportation of the children aged under 5, of migrant workers, (in this case from the Philippines), presumably to stop the population reproducing and discouraging the reproduction of migrants in general.
It's a moving and incredibly well told story which is gaining international attention, so I am not going to include any spoilers so you can watch it yourselves, but what one of the issues it considers is how difficult it is for young people who are technically supposed to call one place 'home', (in this case, the Philippines) but live and know an entirely different place as 'home' (in this case, Isreal, in case you weren't following).
The place that is familiar is a place in which many opportunities are closed to you, you are in hiding and you are not, (and this is continually reinforced), welcome. But the other, where everyone agrees you 'belong' is a world you have literally no knowledge of. Maybe you don't even speak the same language. Even for the parents, migrant workers in Tel Aviv who love and miss the Philippines as 'home' are risking everything in order to avoid being there.
It's strange. 'Home' seems to be an attribute we ascribe to a place. But it's not always somewhere we want to be. It is a testament, perhaps, to human loyalty and adaptability, that it us possible to give that coveted title to a 'home' which may be very far from sweet.
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