An adventure to find out who my Grandmother was and why she left Indonesia.

I grew up with my identity in crisis. A London boy who has never been enough of anything to be anything. I'm not Western enough to be Western, Eastern enough to be Eastern. I grew up yearning for a sense of belonging, searching for somewhere to feel home.

My Indonesian Grandmother passed away when I was 3, but her memory lingers in the culture around me.. But I've been so detached from this culture that I feel like I don't know who she is. Yet at the same time I feel so close and attached to a country I barely know... Why?

Why did she leave? Why was she so reluctant to talk about her history? But why is it so important for me to know? Was my Grandmother hiding the answers I've been looking for my whole life? Will I make sense of my identity searching for the Grandmother I barely knew?