This week, I gave a very short talk to about 200 people in another team about making Scotland home. Here’s what I shared —
I am Bulgarian, by passport. I still struggle with answering the question ‘where are you from’. Because sometimes, identity and feelings of belonging come in stark contrast to your citizenship.
Taiye Selasi describes this very well when saying
What if we asked, instead of “Where are you from?” — “Where are you a local?” This would tell us so much more about who and how similar we are. Tell me you’re from France, and I see what, a set of clichés? Adichie’s dangerous single story, the myth of the nation of France? Tell me you’re a local of Fez and Paris, better yet, Goutte d’Or, and I see a set of experiences. Our experience is where we’re from.
I felt ejected from Bulgaria by cultural and societal powers. At the age of 17, I was looking for a place that felt right.
This journey took me to London, Sarajevo, Stirling and Glasgow where I spent long or short periods of time. I didn’t know at the time, but that was the start of searching for a place where I belong. A place where I felt included, respected, valued, and listened to.
At the age of 32, I think I have now arrived. In Edinburgh.
I like how Kapka Kassabova describes this feeling —
You can’t always rationalise that feeling. The relationship between an individual and a place, there’s something mysterious about it.
This mystery is what fascinates me. I find mystery, myths and legends to be strangely comforting.
For example. Today is Baba Marta Day in Bulgaria (one of my favourite traditions). It translates to Grandma March Day. On that day, we give each other something called martenitsa — wrist bands or small yarn dolls made of combining red and white coloured yarn. The red and white combined symbolise the wish for good health. They are messengers for the coming of spring and of new life head.
You wear these throughout the month, until you see the first signs of spring like a stork or swallow. Then, you hang it on a blossoming tree.
I find an equivalent of this myth in Scotland too — the Cailleach. Also known as queen of winter, or an old woman leading storms and winter.
In Scotland, the legend shows the old woman creates mountains and large hills from striding across land accidentally dropping rocks from her basket.
In Bulgaria, the old grandma does her pre-spring cleaning and shakes her mattress — all feathers comes out and it snows in March, the last snow of the year.
Also, a colleague this week introduced me to the Gaelic custom of the cailleach-bhuana.
The cailleach-bhuana would be passed between households in late summer/early autumn as people finished their harvests. The last person to bring in their crops would have to hang the cailleach-bhuana on their property until the first day of ploughing the following spring when it would be given for good luck to the horses.
I find this overlap in traditions, living across culture and country boundaries, fascinating.
Moving countries, crossing borders is not always straightforward and I’m one of the fortunate and priviledged ones. It can often be a life fuelled by bureaucracy, fear, danger, many unknowns, and grief.
I started my service design career in Scotland when I was homeless. I found a lot of support, kindness and compassion along the journey. The bureaucracy, uncertainty, and fear was always there but people made it all feel better, they made me feel home. So I trusted this feeling along the way.
So maybe its myths and legends what makes Scotland home for me. Maybe it’s the people. But I finally feel like I’ve arrived.
Happy Grandma March. Честита Баба Марта.
