Introduction

A recent exhibition titled ‘Apples for Sale’ at Foam, a photography museum in Amsterdam, provides an overview of recent pictures by the photographer Rebecca Sampson, who has spent considerable time investigating and portraying the lives of Indonesian domestic workers in Hong Kong. The book that was published as part of the exhibition opens with a number of domestic workers wearing brightly coloured aprons of which a few sport the line ‘Apples for Sale’. These are pictures that could have originated from any agent brokering between domestic migrant workers and host families, however by introducing her work in this way, Sampson also seems to suggest that we can think of these women as literally for sale. Friendly, smiling, and with hands folded, the images convey eagerness and obedience; these women are clearly ready to serve. What follows could not provide a greater contrast. In a particularly striking picture, we see two female domestic workers walking through a part of Hong Kong that can only be thought of as its outskirts. Strewn with rubble and garbage on both sides, one of the women is dressed in a simple black top, miniskirt, and open-toe shoes with a pink strap, her toenails painted blue. The other, however, is dressed entirely in black, her hair cut short and gelled up in pointy spikes, her face covered in piercings, pants and shirt decorated with belts and various aggressive looking emblems. Immediately clear is that the two are in a lesbian relationship, one a girly girl, the other a tomboy. Perhaps even more striking, however, is that the latter is carrying a sizeable doll on her neck; dressed in white lace, the doll's hairdo and glittery tiara seem inspired by Japanese anime, though the shoes of a sturdy boots variety seem to mock the doll's cuteness. As subsequent pictures illustrate, the doll is used for the re-enactment of family life, something not just this couple engages in but quite a few other women employed as domestic workers in Hong Kong as well. They rent containers for 1400 HKD (or 160 EUR) per month and turn these spaces into private sanctuaries of candy-coloured wonderlands that, on Sundays (a mandatory day-off for domestic workers), provide a temporary safe-haven from the much harsher realities of day-to-day life and work during the week.

Summary

This chapter explores the fluidity and intrinsic ambivalence of ‘migration decisions’ and connected (transnational) ambitions. It does so specifically by examining the category of student migrant: international students who, after they have finished their studies, ‘stay on’ and become permanent residents in the country where they have completed their studies. In the past, international students were almost always assumed to return, their failure to do so being associated with the brain drain and related issues. More recently, however, countries such as Australia, Canada and New Zealand have started recruiting their skilled migrants directly from the pool of freshly graduated international students. In particular Indian students in Australia have been known to apply for permanent residency (PR) after graduation, and some would argue that the opportunity to do so has even overwhelmingly determined the growth in Indian students’ enrolments in Australian universities in the last decade. While this supposes a certain straightforwardness with regards to the trajectory from student to migrant, this chapter lays bare the ambivalences and imaginations that zigzag in and out of student migrants narratives with regards to return and the permanency of their decisions. It will argue that the ‘permanency’ a PR provides actually makes it possible to consider one's settlement in Australia ‘temporary.’ Return takes on a double meaning here; a PR makes returning home (to India) possible yet also allows for the freedom to leave India and return to Australia, as a result facilitating transnational mobility.

Introduction

The connection between international education and migration has a long history but has only recently become the object of serious investigation. Up till the 1980s international students were mostly recruited through scholarship programs – such as the Colombo plan – with specific development goals in mind (Fraser 1984; Morris 1968; Rao 1979; Singh 1963; Tanenhaus & Roth 1962). This idea was often laced with a certain naivety: students would ‘learn’ and then ‘return home’ where they were assumed to make a valuable contribution towards developing their respective countries. They were understood to be future ambassadors for the Western world bringing the progressive message of democracy, liberal values and capitalism and as a result countering the spread of communism.

Introduction

Most migrants will be intimately familiar with the question of return. The question of returning ‘home,’ to the ‘homeland,’ the ‘country of origin,’ ‘the place left behind’ is something that is intrinsically linked to the migration decision itself and how the migration trajectory ultimately is experienced. The way individuals deal with the question of ‘return’ often seems to reflect, or be in dialogue with, the reasons for leaving in the first place, ranging from the economically and/or politically motivated to more personal ones that often seem infused with socio-cultural expectations. Whether migration is permanent or temporary or something in-between – temporary at first, perhaps permanent in the long run – where one comes from, what one leaves behind, is likely to continue to influence the way the migration process is experienced even well into a ‘settled’ life elsewhere. While the question of return thus shapes and gives meaning and direction to a migration trajectory it also demands an answer not just at ‘some point’ but also at regular intervals. More than ever before ‘return’ has become a regularly ‘returning’ feature of having migrated abroad. In some cases the frequency of return has become such a regular feature of a migrant's life that we have come to speak of a transnational lifestyle; one characterized by being ‘here’ nor ‘there,’ or maybe exactly the opposite: ‘being in both,’ maintaining social and/or business relations in one's country of origin as well as settlement, and thus firmly rooted in multiple locations.

What does ‘return’ mean to migrants? This is the central question this volume puts forward. What does ‘return’ mean for different groups of (Asian) migrants – temporary and permanent; voluntary and forced; international and internal; skilled and unskilled; and those that fall into in-between categories? How do they strategize towards, discuss, negotiate and perhaps also avoid the question? The case studies presented in this volume take a migrant-centred approach in that they examine the question from the perspective of migrants themselves. In doing so these case studies differ considerably from the majority of studies examining ‘return migration’ which explore the question of return mostly as a traceable and/ or predictable flow or process that requires and thus also ‘predictably’ provides clear-cut answers in terms of composition (Who returns?), factors (Why return?), duration (When did they return?), and impact (What are the consequences of return?).

The seeds to compile a volume on the role and the meaning of return in the lives of migrants and transnationals were planted during a panel at the joint ICAS AAS conference held in Honolulu between March 31 and April 3, 2011. The initial aim of the panel was to revisit the ‘myth of return’ in light of the transnational turn in migration studies. We soon started discussing what ‘return’ actually means to (transnational) migrants and whether it was possible to give the ‘question of return’ a more central place in our research. The chapters in this volume all engage with what the ‘question of return’ means to (groups of) migrants and how it influences their (daily) lives and lifestyles. I would like to thank all authors for their contributions to this volume.

Over the period of time it took for this volume to come out a number of other people were of crucial importance to the project. I would like to thank the following persons in particular: Barak Kalir and Nel Vandekerckhove for their involvement and inspiring input at an early stage of this project; Maureen E. Hickey, whose comments on individual chapters and the overall structure greatly benefited the volume; and Mary Lynn van Dijk and Paul van der Velde for making this publication possible with Amsterdam University Press. Finally I would like to thank the Asia Research Institute (National University of Singapore) and Nalanda University (Rajgir, India) for providing a more than inspiring and collegial environment to work on this project.

Point of Departure

A quiet Saturday morning early March, summer has entered its final weeks and it is noticeably less warm than a couple of weeks before when the first semester of the New Year officially began. Traditionally, students are welcomed back on campus with what is commonly referred to as Orientation: a week of picking up booklists, going to introductory sessions and ‘signing up’ for all sorts of clubs and societies that are supposed to make life on campus about more than just studying alone. From the University of Melbourne, located in the heart of the city, to Latrobe University on the outskirts, all universities have days when these clubs and societies present themselves, often with traditional Australian barbeques, games and lots of beer. Now, a couple of weeks later, classes have begun, and the time of orientation and introductions is supposed to be over. Yuva, the Indian student organization at Monash University's Caulfield campus, made good use of Orientation to recruit newly arrived Indian students. Earlier, Rohit, one of the organizers of Yuva, had explained to me that they had only recently formed this club. Some of the Indian overseas students on campus had been playing cricket together for some time, and one day one of them had suggested forming a club so that others could join in as well. Rather appropriately then, this particular morning they had their first official club activity planned: a mini-cricket tournament.