Family Special

4 February 2010

Uganda entry: 5

I’ve been thinking about homesickness, not really in terms of myself, but just about what it is supposed to mean- a deep connection to one’s home life, a sense of discomfort in one’s current atmosphere, or a longing for typical creature comforts. I’ve been here for a month now, and culture shock hasn’t set in yet. I feel comfortable in my surroundings here, whether or not they’re particularly desirable, or reflect my academic ambitions, because they really don’t. I still find humor and intrigue in the slow walk of Ugandans, the horrible, but eager service at restaurants, and the colorful chaos that penetrates the Kampala identity. I’m coming to love the masses of fruits and excess of carbohydrates that are a major part of the diet. Beef, chicken, rice, matoke, potatoes, potatoes, potatoes. I don’t think I’m gaining any weight, probably because I have a quick metabolism, as well as the fact that I walk 2 miles everyday. I admit, sometimes it is hard to push myself out of the comfort zone I have created here. I go to class, I go to one of several restaurants in our neighborhood, I shop at the grocery store across the street. It’s tiring to go into the city. It’s often hard to find the energy to get into a crowded mutatu, haggle over the price, get dropped off in the middle of a densely crowded roundabout, and make my way through the maze of people and wares to get to any destination. I know that this is something I need to overcome in order to fully experience my time here, but it’s draining, both psychologically and physically. I guess I’ll just take more B-12.

I’ve been thinking about family, not necessarily my own, but the general concept. We’ve been “learning,” and I use that term loosely, about the lineage ideology of African peoples, and about the social networks that hold people together, and I can’t help but think about making American juxtapositions. In Africa, people have a strong connection to the past and to their ancestry, through naming, religious practices, rites of passage, etc. Lineage provides strong concepts of cooperate identity. Families and the networks created by African concepts of lineage provide financial assistance; they provide a social safety net that ensures the survival of the community and the individuals that it encompasses. When making comparisons to the typical Western family, I can see obvious differences, but I can also see subtle similarities. I’ve been thinking about all the families I’ve experienced, about divorce, about estrangement, and about conflict; and I’ve always remained at a safe distance from these examples that have become so prevalent in our culture. I think it’s taken the past year or so for me to realize my own gratitude. My time here, and even my time at Hendrix, has given me a much more conscious appreciation for just how beautiful my family is. I always find myself excited to show my friends pictures of my family, it’s almost like showing off.

More than anyone in the world, I love my grandmother, and all that she has taught me about what is important in life. I’ve learned the most important lessons from her; I see so much of her in myself, and it gives me a strong sense of identity through the concept of lineage. Without her, who would sneak me wine, or eat my vegetables, or give me innumerable kisses, or tell me how to smoke cigarettes discreetly, or call me “fanny face,” or pamper me as if I were the last heir of a royal line? More importantly though, who would have instilled in me an unconditional love for life, and just how simple that love can be? She taught me to show everyone the love that she shows to everyone she meets. She taught me to radiate that love, to express it in any endeavor. Such a small woman, but somehow she finds a way to engage an entire room. Somehow, she manages to make my heart swell, even from 3,000 miles away.

I remember living at home, seeing Guy come home everyday, never forgetting to embrace Corine, and I could feel their love for one another. Then it was gross. Now, I see how deeply meaningful their love is, not only to each other, but also to my own identity. Being raised in the presence of such intense love and devotion has had a profound effect upon who I am. And now, as I “blossom” into adulthood, I can look to them for guidance, and we can speak on adult terms. I don’t have to censor myself, and I value that more than anything. I have never wanted to be one of those families with issues, and I’ve never wanted to be at a certain distance from my parents that I see in so many others. I can say what I want to my parents, and we can laugh and enjoy one another without worrying about ruining some abstract image that they have of who I am. They know who I am, because I tell them, and because I want and need them to know. And no matter where I go, or how strange it seems that I want to do development work in Africa, or devote my life to something that will probably never earn me any money, they can stand beside me and I always know that I have them as my net.

Neil and I used to fight a lot. But now I think we can both look back on that time and laugh. Now, I see him, not only as a brother, but also as my closest friend, a friend that is perspicaciously aware my successes and my flaws, a friend that has an undeniable intuition for seeing my motives, my desires, and even my music taste. I don’t think that, if I died, he would marry my widow and take over my farm. But we have something like half of the same DNA, and my brother’s way cooler than yours. I don’t know how to describe our relationship quite yet, but let’s just suffice to say that he’s my favorite. I don’t know if this is all too sappy or overly personal, but I think I just need to say all of this to myself, so I know how much I am truly thankful for my family, and so I can know that my connection to them is deeper than what my education presents as the Western norm. I do have a strong sense of individuality, but I also have a strong sense of my past, and of my duties and obligations to my family. I keep coming back to the African proverb, “I am because we are.” It is universally relevant. I am because we are. I would be nothing without my past, without the identity that comes from my lineage. Maybe I have white guilt, maybe there are real comparisons that can be made; but I know that there’s something special about my family, and I don’t want anyone to think that I’ve forgotten that fact.