The House You Need To Love

Belarus - a small republic, and many people do not suspect that it exists. And no matter how unpleasant it may sound for the Belarusians, but people often do not even identify us as a separate state. Of course, this can be attributed to geographical illiteracy and "this is their problem", but this does not become easier or more understandable. Well, come on, leave them and look at us. And how do we understand Belarus, citizens living in it?

Recently, in a conversation with a European, who answered a question, «how do you in three words describe the city in which you live?», my colleagues and I several times answered «Motherland» (belonging to the mother) without saying a word. It was such an express test to build the creativity of thinking and a departure from stereotypes. So, you know, what did the young successful businessman from one very small European country draw attention to? The term «Motherland». The word familiar to us cut the ear to the European because they call their home city or country Home, and officially - Fatherland (belonging to the father). Such a trifle actually carries a fundamental, historical substitution. Several generations of our people were born and brought up with the idea that they are nurtured and provided with the ghostly happy future by the Motherland. These were generations of fatherless, forced to give up their kind for political reasons. Doomed to be ashamed of their fathers, recognized enemies, or, at best, be proud of people killed in the battles for their country. Generations grown by widows, pulled out genealogical trees, rewriting pedigrees and eternally ashamed of what a normal person needs to be proud of.

And home it is something cozy, warm, smelling of childhood and memories, it is a place where everything is native and very personal. There live those whom you love and whom you trust. And if you do not love, it's still without aggression. There all animals are domestic, and all people are relatives or neighbors. There their way of life and rules, history and traditions, jokes and tales. There you can be yourself, and you are loved for it. People take out of the house only garbage and death, but not rubbish. Because home is guarded and equipped. And if they leave it, then they remember it with tenderness and return with joy. It happens with your home. And the Motherland, especially in the variant of the Soviet and post-Soviet connotations, appears with some eternally grieving stony face. She constantly calls and needs. She escorts sons and daughters with tears to where they owe her a debt, while remaining for generations ahead in unpaid debt. People fight foe her, she is constantly defended and loved.

These invisible meanings and subtexts connect us with mental threads with the past and the future. We can not attach importance to them, we have many problems. But, as Boris Grebenschikov sang: "...to stand, we need to hold on to the roots." We love the Motherland beacuse they taught us, and we love our home by definition. With this we are born and live. It's as natural as loving father and mother. If a Belarusian is asked what he is proud of in his country, he will probably name some names, symbols and brands. But is he really proud of it, like a Dutchman - cheese and tulips, an Italian - pasta and pizza, and a Frenchman - Versailles and Chanel? For so long we have been forced to be proud of what destroyed us, that we do not know how and what to love sincerely and with all our heart. We can not accept praise, feel shy! Foreigners think that modesty is behind this, but in fact, often, nothing more than a low self-esteem.

Probably, we have not had that form of private property, which develops social responsibility for one's own and for the common, for too long. But social responsibility does not appear out of nowhere. This is a decision that everyone takes inside of themselves. And we need to learn it. Loving your Home, be proud of it, equip it so that our children can be proud of the Land of the Fathers, responsible for what is happening in their Home.