This is a rerun. We have been here before. This is like watching TV in Bombay or Kingston or Dhaka, watching the same

This is a rerun. We have been here before. This is like watching TV in Bombay or Kingston or Dhaka, watching the same old British sitcoms spewed out to the old colonies in one tedious, eternal loop. Because immigrants have always been particularly prone to repetition—it’s something to do with that experience of moving from West to East or East to West or from island to island. Even when you arrive, you’re still going back and forth; your children are going round and round. There’s no proper term for it—'original sin’ seems too harsh; maybe ‘original trauma’ would be better.

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