In truth, the past wasn’ t quite as rosy as it may seem in retrospect. Every era has had injustices and difficulties to confront – our parents and great-grandparents can attest to that. Daily life was often synonymous with hardship, social tensions, and deep inequalities, whether women’ s rights or wages is the example. Was“ before” really so much better? |
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In idealising the past, we run a risk: that the battles fought – and won – since then are forgotten or obscured: improved access to education, medical advances, freedoms won... If we fool ourselves by looking at this“ almost perfect past” only through rose-tinted spectacles, we also risk putting the brakes on our desire to innovate and commit to creating a better future – in short, it could make us less responsible, as we attempt to escape the difficulties of the present. |
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Constructive nostalgia |
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Was“ before” really so much better? |
In Mauritius, nostalgia has its own unique flavour. Letan lontan refers not to a specific date, but to a fiction of our collective imagination – a gentle idyll of island life before traffic jams, before the frantic race towards development, before the public beaches were diminished by construction or erosion... Poised somewhere between sweetness and melancholy, this idealised dream of an earlier time( when everything seemed simpler) conjures up images that act like Proust’ s madeleines, providing a particular kind of emotional comfort.
A past that remains alive
The delicious pistas boui bought on the way to school; an improvised ene ti sega on the beach after a picnic; afternoons spent picking guavas; the familiar whistle of the old deksi and the creaking of the ros kari that announces a good manzé mama; cyclone days spent playing cards... Like an invisible thread, these shared memories nourish Mauritian identity across the generations and act as a sort of compass, especially at a moment when modernisation seems to be changing the country at breakneck speed.
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Should we avoid looking in the rearview mirror altogether? That’ s not( really) the right question. If consumed in an appropriate dose, nostalgia has its virtues: it can remind us of the things that really matter, strengthen our sense of belonging, or even inspire us in our daily lives. The key lies in finding a balance.
We need to know how to cherish our shared heritage without making it a permanent refuge from reality. We can remember where we come from while remaining open to change and the challenges of the present, and transform memories into living connections by promoting forgotten skills or reinterpreting certain traditions – inventing new sirandanes, restoring a historic building for use as a cultural venue, or revisiting an old recipe with modern ingredients, for example.
In this way, letan lontan could cease to exist as a frozen memory and become instead a source of inspiration, especially in this sometimes-turbulent era. Whatever people may say, preserving Creole architecture, promoting our endemic species, passing on family recipes or playing the ravanne does not mean remaining stuck in the past; rather, by drawing on our roots we can better face the present.
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Aparté |
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