4My mother somewhat neglected my religious education in the belief that my future was to be a Muslim in my father’s country. My father had whispered the Muslim call to prayer in my right ear as soon as he held me in his arms in hospital after I was born, but that didn’t stop my mother from taking me to the small local church as soon as we arrived in Manila to baptise me in holy water as a Catholic. Apparently she wasn’t yet fully convinced at that stage that I would go back.
If only my parents could have given me a single, clear identity, instead of making me grope my way alone through life in search of one. Then I would have just one name that would make me turn when someone called me. I would have just one native country. I would learn its national anthem. Its trees and streets would sh
