- Stories, diverse stories, of people from different backgrounds, different cultures.
- Languages, so diverse, that can express in a single word things that I struggle to say in many.
- Ways of looking, beautiful faces of so many different colours and hues and shapes.
- Ways of seeing.
- Ways of being.
- So many different ways of thinking about a single thing and bringing to a problem ways of seeing, understanding.
- A celebration of difference.
- Music. Songs from cultures, from distant lands, hot, cold, desert and forest. And from different ages too.
( One of my favorite books is The Ink Dark Moon by Shikibu , 1000 years old, Japanese)
When I left home I began to learn about how different people lived. I learned to make a little sense of the world through the myths of Aboriginal people, from America to Australia to Sami and Innuit. I learned about world music, folk music and I loved the richness that this wove into my life. I learned the roots of mathematics did not lie in dusty books but in faraway lands, that the world did not centre at all on the white people of Europe. And I loved this and I still do.
So, more power to multi-culturism, and I wish I wish I wish that I could express a clearer vision in words of this truth that I hold in my heart.