In my mid-sixties, I am a new mum again. Now, since Bahrain is so close-knit (read ‘know-it-all’), you may be wondering how this gynaecological happening did not attract more attention. But I’m talking about becoming an unacknowledged mum to my mum. At 88, my mother is a perky, people-loving, sociable conversationalist. She walks a swift 800 metres and continues to be fiercely independent. Problem is she has major memory issues and cannot really manage living on her own and now lives in Bahrain with us.
Since my father was posted here for five years in the ‘seventies, Bahrain is a place with many fond memories for my mother – happy stories that swim up through her consciousness and give her a sense of belonging. To me, that encapsulates the spirit of Bahrain – the warmth with which the kingdom reaches out to residents and accepts everybody regardless of their generation.
Unlike many countries and communities, the elderly in Bahrain are still accorded respect even by offhand teens. They are not pushed off the social and emotional grid. Of course, a social worker friend did mention that sometimes the aberrant family does turn up at a hospital emergency department, admits the very old parent and simply melts away, not to be seen again for weeks. ‘
Since Bahrain is small and the admissions are tracked so efficiently online, they don’t get away with it. In India, such horror stories abound and with not-so-happy endings, sometimes. People cross states to leave ageing parents in hospitals far away from home, pay for a couple of days treatment and disappear with no contact address.
My cousin, who is an alternative therapist, recalls that the first words of advice she got from her senior when she set up her private clinic was to never accept a patient without reliable referral, otherwise people simply search out such small clinics and abandon old parents in the waiting rooms after some fake registration. Most often, the patient does not remember his or her address or even the name of the person who accompanied her, so tracing the family is difficult.
The truth is, between today’s enhanced longevity (for the parents) and the stress of paddling furiously to stay afloat (for the children – who are themselves ageing), aged parents are the 21st century’s Victorian-era abandoned babies.
We are all cursed to outlive our usefulness, much like the tech flotsam that crams the bottom drawer of our worktable. Perfectly workable mobile phones but with analogue innards instead of digital; those mystery wires and earphones that look useful but don’t plug in anywhere.
The Middle Eastern and Asian cultures place traditional emphasis on caring for old parents and an increasing number of expats I see are caught in this new super-parental role. They have a good community bond here and the cultural familiarity to fit in.
I feel we shall soon find ourselves starting social spaces in Bahrain for aged expat parents like in the UK or North America. And why not? If we can have linguistic and regional community clubs, one more layer of geriatric social support is not out of place!
meeraresponse@gmail.com
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