I was born in Toronto, at St. Michael’s Hospital, somewhere in the wee hours of the first day of August in the middle of the last century. I did not ask to be born but I’m glad I was. I am grateful to have been born at a time and in a place that has allowed me to live, to be safe and have enough to eat, to grow up and get an education and be able to go out and see the world freely.

We are all born somewhere, as Maxime Le Forestier evokes so beautifully in the song that provides the inspiration for this post. I was happy to find this cinematic gem of a music video from 1988.

I remember the song well. It was on the charts shortly after we’d married and before our son was born. We were travelling back and forth between Canada and France a lot back then, with families on both sides. Ultimately we chose to live in France but we can still go back to the country I still think of as home and live there if we choose. How lucky we are, and our children too, to be able to choose between two countries, through accidents of birth.

I was struck by this when the story of the ‘Open Arms’ broke last week. The hundreds migrants packed on board the NGO rescue ship just a couple of hundred metres from Italy’s nearest shores on the island of Lampedusa. Waiting for nearly three weeks while a political battle waged over their right to disembark. Growing increasingly sick, impatient, angry. In desperation, some jumped ship and tried to swim ashore. The saintly people who kept them safe until finally, after the Italian government collapsed, the order came to allow them ashore. Their joy at finding themselves alive and on terra firma.

They are there and I am here because of being born somewhere. Né quelque part. An accident of birth, of time and of place.

Yes, I am white, privileged, rich by some standards. Yes, it is easy for me, a bi-national, with enough food on my table, to be liberal in my thinking. I have not had to fight for a place, or my beliefs, or my rights as a human being. Yet all of those things only make me more convinced that we are all the same. None of us deserves more than any other to be here. Or there.

I recently watched a drama on the BBC called ‘Years and Years’. It brilliantly explored this theme along with that of the future we are living in, today and tomorrow, within a xenophobic political post-Brexit context that was frighteningly real. Emma Thompson was entirely credible as  the populist Prime Minister. It made me think: what is this world we have created in which we scroll through our newsfeeds and skim over the real-life horror stories of human suffering to giggle over cute animal memes and admire each other’s holiday photos?

I am glad to have been born, to have lived through so many changes and hopefully continue to do so for many years more. Yet I wonder: would I feel this way, would I even be here at all, if my parents had lived somewhere else?

So tell me: where were you born? How has it affected your life?

Bonus: Here are the lyrics (with a rough English translation)
from ‘Né quelque part’ by Maxime Le Forestier:

We do not choose our parents, we do not choose our family
On choisit pas ses parents, on choisit pas sa famille

We do not choose the sidewalks of Manila
On choisit pas non plus les trottoirs de Manille

Or Paris or Algiers to learn how to walk
De Paris ou d’Alger pour apprendre à marcher

To be born somewhere
Être né quelque part

To be born somewhere, for one who is born
Être né quelque part, pour celui qui est né

It’s always a coincidence
C’est toujours un hasard

(Name’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)
(Nom’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)

(Name’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)
(Nom’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)

There are farmyard birds and birds of passage
Y a des oiseaux de basse cour et des oiseaux de passage

They know where their nests are
Ils savent où sont leur nids

Whether they return from their trip or stay at home
Qu’ils rentrent de voyage ou qu’ils restent chez eux

They know where their eggs are
Ils savent où sont leurs oeufs

To be born somewhere
Être né quelque part

To be born somewhere is to leave when you want
Être né quelque part, c’est partir quand on veut

Come back when you leave
Revenir quand on part

(Name’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)
(Nom’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)

(Name’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)
(Nom’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)

Are people born equal in rights
Est-ce que les gens naissent égaux en droits

Where they are born
À l’endroit où ils naissent

(Name’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)
(Nom’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)

Are people born equal in rights
Est-ce que les gens naissent égaux en droits

Where they are born
À l’endroit où ils naissent

Whether people are born that way or not
Que les gens naissent pareils ou pas

We do not choose our parents, we do not choose our family
On choisit pas ses parents, on choisit pas sa famille

We do not choose the sidewalks of Manila
On choisit pas non plus les trottoirs de Manille

Or Paris or Algiers to learn how to walk
De Paris ou d’Alger pour apprendre à marcher

I was born somewhere
Je suis né quelque part

I was born somewhere, leave me this landmark
Je suis né quelque part, laissez-moi ce repère

Or I lose my memory
Ou je perds la mémoire

(Name’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)
(Nom’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)

(Name’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)
(Nom’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)

(Name’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)
(Nom’inqwando yes qxag iqwahasa)

Are people born equal in rights
Est-ce que les gens naissent égaux en droits

Where they are born
À l’endroit où ils naissent

Whether people are born that way or not
Que les gens naissent pareils ou pas

Are people born equal in rights
Est-ce que les gens naissent égaux en droits

Where they are born
À l’endroit où ils naissent

Whether people are born that way or not
Que les gens naissent pareils ou pas

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Bruno Jean Bernard Le Forestier / Jean Pierre GuignonNé quelque part lyrics © Salut Ô Éditions, SO2 Édition, Quatryo Éditions