So here I am, journalist and blogger for a famous newspaper in South Korea(here by known as SK). I’ve lived in SK for 18 years, and although I’m no Asian woman, I am however a SK citizen. Although I’m usually the victim of racism by older males assuming I’m a e with an IQ of 20, maybe less. I’ve been interested in writing since I was about 5, when I learnt to write for the first time. I would create stories with my mother, a children’s author in England, until she passed away from cancer… then we moved here, SK. My father got a brilliant opportunity as chief of police in Seoul, something about the British police system reforming a lot of other ‘partner’ countries, well SK was one of those countries, I’m lucky I guess… another well received police officer ended up in Uganda, as much as I love the sun, I prefer a climate much like my own back in England, SK mirrors that, minus the snow. I’m 26 years old this year and have lived in SK since I was 8 years old. My Korean, now fluent, is turning out to be better than my English, every time I speak English I’m reminded of one of my favourite Poems, ‘Search for my Tongue’ by Sujata Bhatt.

You ask me what I mean 
by saying I have lost my tongue. 
I ask you, what would you do 
if you had two tongues in your mouth, 
and lost the first one, the mother tongue, 
and could not really know the other, 
the foreign tongue. 
You could not use them both together 
even if you thought that way.
And if you lived in a place you had to 
speak a foreign tongue, 
your mother tongue would rot, 
rot and die in your mouth 
until you had to “spit it out.” 
I thought I spit it out 
but over night while I dream, 

(munay hutoo kay aakhee jeebh aakhee bhasha) 
(may thoonky nakhi chay) 
(parantoo rattray svupnama mari bhasha pachi aavay chay) 
(foolnee jaim mari bhasha mari jeebh) 
(modhama kheelay chay) 
(fullnee jaim mari bhasha mari jeebh) 
(modham pakay chay) 

it grows back, a stump of a shoot 
grows longer, grows moist, grows strong veins, 
it ties the other tongue in knots, 
the bud opens, the bud opens in my mouth, 
it pushes the other tongue aside. 
Everytime I think I’ve forgotten, 
I think I’ve lost the mother tongue, 
it blossoms out of my mouth. 

Then I think of my mother, she wouldn’t have dreamt that after her death we’d move across the planet… well this is my newest Blog, my first independent blog. As for my name, though I’m sure it will be revealed, for now you can call me Brit, Brit as for my mother tongue. Why I started this life blog? So that I can exploit my stories to the world. I suppose it’s also a diary of sorts, but then you don’t have to read.

Signing off. Brit. Xoxo