I love this country! I love it even though the people I know would say that I am lying, because I complain a lot. I complain about my everyday difficulties.
I complain about the absent heat in my home, even though it is a “modern” building.
I complain about water that froze a few days ago or about the “secret tricks” I learn every day at my job.
I complain about my daily morning jog, that I, despite making the correct calculations of time and distance before I leave home, still run late.
I complain because I don’t entertaining my children the way I want to, because the necessary facilities are lacking, because there is no park in my neighborhood, and so on and so forth… Whew! There are lots of things that make me endlessly grumpy.
But yet I chose to live here.
I chose to raise my children here. And this is not because I cannot be anywhere else, or because I have a strong survival instinct.
I chose to live here because I love this place!
I love this country, but not because we have a high corruption rate; nor do I love it for its justice system or for the quality of education and health services; nor for the wage rates or work contracts; or the atmosphere in the companies.
I love this country because I think that if I don’t throw garbage on it, it would be cleaner. If I smile more, there would be less frowning expressions around me.
If I give more love, those that would receive it would have more strength, and would give more love to those closest to them, and so love would triumph.
I love this country with its tremendous pain.
Because the stories of our parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents are filled with pain. I love it just because I can call a close friend or relative solely to hear the voice without any “major reason.”
I love it for the hustle and bustle of the weddings. I love it for the chit-chats at the café with my nameless neighbor. I love it even when I take it upon me to apologize to my husband for my country’s “mistakes.” When I explain to my children that this is their motherland. Even though their fatherland is much bigger, more gorgeous, and developed. My children have to work very hard to make their motherland as good as their fatherland.
That’s why I love my big crybaby country, and I admit it, I am a crybaby too.
