home

April 22nd 2007


My deepest apologies for not writing sooner…I have honestly been somewhat avoiding writing. I really don’t know how to write my experiences anymore without being completely and utterly honest and honestly I don’t know if I want to do that. So much and I mean literally so much has happened since I last blogged … how can I put it into my own words without offending anyone, or should I just log the events that occurred…kind of like I have been doing…well I have decided to speak my mind


The reality of being born in a place that was not your home and everyone made sure you knew it….while many in America are from other places I don’t think it is exactly the same. Actually you were never told where your home actually was, specifically… only a mention of a continent that is actually the second largest continent in the world. A continent consisting of 53 countries with people that make up more than 800 ethnic groups- each with it’s own language, religion, and way of life.
Imagine the longing and desire that you may have just to go and visit the place – not really knowing what part of the place you have come from - or maybe even to go and actually live in the place that was your home and the home of your people. To some this may sound like a typical story heard over and over again and sadly it is. Ever since I was a child I have dreamed, longed, desired, and purposed to come to Africa. Now since I am a mother I resolved early on that as a mother I would not allow my son to only receive the history lessons that are taught in school … I would encourage ALL mothers to on some level - do the same…. I decided that I would make sure he knew more than I did and by the grace of God he is now having a long term, first-hand history lesson. After all his name is ADOM – an Akan name meaning simply…by the grace of God…so it is extremely fitting that he would not only taste, see, and smell, the land where his name comes from but also that he would see the land of his ancestors. However unfortunately just as many of our ancestors have realized … home has changed and is not the same. Kind of like my grandmother’s house in Mississippi…and how I longed to visit it recently after I had not been there for so many years. I looked forward to her schedule of everyday home-cooking…..every-meal…something healthy and good….only to be met by my grandmother who naturally having advanced in years telling me “you know you gone have to cook” I think she saw how crushed I was and she didn’t make me cook – but the statement along with her physical state of being let me know that things had changed. The same can be said of Africa … many of us of African decent long for a place, scent, smell, taste of home that we do not get in America and when we get there we are met with not what was or what was missed but what is new and in many ways broken. Africa is like a beautiful, powerful, awesome animal that has been wounded. When you left her she was beautiful and awesome…powerful beyond measure…unconquerable….however, when you saw her again-she wasn’t the same…though she was still as beautiful as ever she has now been wounded….with broken limbs and blood and her injuries now affect the way that she deals with you.


Much has been done and much has to be done in the way of healing. Not only talking and complaining about a subject matter, but actual work to heal. Our people here are hurting just as in other places. Maybe one of my major faults is that I am an emotional person and maybe this can also be a positive. I know that it definitely affects my perspective. Upon arrival in Africa we (Africans in the diaspora) are received in varying ways. We receive every response from a heartfelt and deserved welcome home to requests to pay school fees, marriage proposals, and requests to sponsor people to the U.S. After being here a while you learn that all is normal and whether it is morally correct is definitely debatable.

Sadly for those of us in the African diaspora coming home reveals several truths and on the same note several un-truths. Depending on where you have been born within the diaspora you may be viewed a certain way. For those of us born in America in many cases we are called white. Not only have I been called obroni (white or foreigner) in Ghana but on one occasion I was also called “white woman” this presents a question of whether I consider this an insult… The answer is no and more importantly and ultimately YES…No I do not consider that an insult because I do not hate white people nor any other race for that matter/ you cannot control how you are born or what race you are when you are born….but you can control your behavior and actions after birth, this includes all races-- but in light of the struggles that I have had to endure - my brothers, my mothers, and my grandmothers have had to endure and my ancestors in America as well as in Africa along with other countries in between have had to endure yes I do consider that an insult. I am not white. I am African American. When I go back in my mind to where I grew up and I look at my counterparts, the stark reality is that not many of us have made it to Africa. Honestly some people don’t have any desire to go and others are not able financially. Still others are caught up in jobs and family lives that do not allow them the freedom to go. But for those of us that do make it to Africa it is a wonderful feat. So much so that some of us kiss the ground upon arrival or collect the dirt just to salvage the moment. Even others are met at the airport by welcoming crowds that play traditional music and dance welcoming us home.

I recently had a conversation with a brother born in Jamaica. He recognized himself as an African and of course others as well that have been born in other places because of slavery …he said that once he was a part of a program that had contingents from Africa, Jamaica, and U.S. they would once a year meet in South Africa and he said that every year the participants from Jamaica and Africa would rough it and stay among the others living there but the American contingent would always stay in a hotel. He also said that he had a conversation with one particular African American brother who he thought was “conscious” he said that late one night in comfortable conversation the African American brother said Yeah I am an American first and an African second. Naturally the brother from Jamaica was offended. But this brings up a very interesting perspective, while I could never imagine myself saying something like this …. Have many of us worked out where we stand or where we fit in?????? the brother from Jamaica also said that though African Americans are from Africa he feels that maybe because they have been exposed to the culture and conveniences of the western world that this causes culture shock when African Americans come to Africa to live or visit.

A couple of days ago I asked yet another Ghanain why they call us (African Americans) white and I was surprised to get a different answer this time. Usually I am told well it is because of your dialect or because you are a foreigner. Well this time he got kind of quiet, laughed and said I don’t think you really want to know. And of course I said yes I would like to know I have been asking several people. The natural response is to assume that the reason is because of a lack of education and that maybe they just don’t know!!! Well he said no, Ghanains are educated and they know that you are from Africa but he said many of you that come here ….you act like you are above us and like you know everything so if you feel like that then we will call you obroni…I guess some of us are receiving treatment based on other peoples mistakes….. I am still thinking about it all…..of course I didn’t have enough time to process it when I had a conversation with a white friend of mine about the subject matter. He shared with me that while I may not know when exactly my ancestors came from Africa he knows that his ancestors came early 1900’s from Germany. He also acknowledged that while he knows when his ancestors came and from where he wouldn’t go back there today and try to live as though he never left. He said that many African Americans that he runs into here are very angry and as I said well I can understand why…thinking that of course they are trying to process everything ….. he went into a little more detail saying that after talking to them they reveal that all they eat is American food … they don’t eat any local food, they are always complaining of the expenses when they wont eat any local food …. I got the feeling that he was saying that they just didn’t feel comfortable and were not really willing to change their ways of life to adjust to life here….

now so much can be taken from both of these conversations but at the root of it all I am sensing that number one I am extremely personally interested in the experience of the African American in Africa and that while in many ways it is, it is not always the romantic homecoming that some portray it as……with that being said it is also true that my Africa is not your Africa and that your Africa is not someone else’s…….it is completely possible to have different experiences in the same place and then also take away different things from the same place while still taking away some of the same….. this blog was hard for me to write and partially because it will not finish….i have 3 more months left and I have taken on a new research project that could easily take the rest of my life….in addition it would require me to travel to other places in Africa as well as other places to get accurate experiences………

Back to the animal that was wounded and is no longer the same ….maybe what we miss is not the same - and home is somewhat uncomfortable………while here I have been so uncomfortable to the point of tears while in other instances I have never felt more comfortable…….

How was my homecoming…it was good and bad, I was welcomed and also treated like a stranger….I do know that I have a greater sense of appreciation for our culture in Africa and in the U.S….specifically culture that existed in my neighborhood where my mother has lived for 32 years….we have and had so much culture….I used to think we had none


More to come on this topic…..I just really wish we could talk honestly about our experiences

*************************************************************