The African/Asian story un-wound (in me)

In my life, my body belongs to Africa. I make love to it. My womb has nurtured its seed. My breasts have nursed two of its daughters.

In my dreams, my heart belongs to Asia. The photos & images that transfix me are always Asian. Even my breath goes still at the vision. Rice paddies dotted with ox carts & small women in cone shaped hats bent over at the waist, immersed to their ankles in muddy water. Slender limbed, dark skinned women trudging dusty roads, draped in vividly colored saris, bangles ascending each arm. They carry water on their head. They stare without smiling as they pass.

I traveled this summer to Africa & Asia. And I came away with a deeper understanding of me than I ever had before. I learned some things, was surprised by some things, settled some things, became wiser about some things. The next few posts will highlight some of these insights. I hope no one finds it too boring.

Til next time.

Siem Reap, Cambodia

Rush hour traffic in Siem Reap

Ilesha, Nigeria

Lagos, Nigeria

(Untitled) 'cuz the 1st & 2nd titles I came up with suck

If there's one thing living with a foreigner has taught me, it is how to get along with people who are different.

Sorta.

My husband and I have been having the same argument off and on for 16 years. When it comes to Africa, we hold diametrically opposed worldviews. He is a tribalist. I am nationalist.

We met when I was at the height of my pro-Black racial identity development. I had been mentored in college by a Black Activist named Mudavanha with a PhD from UC Berkeley who had kicked it with the Black Panthers in the Bay Area during the height of the racially tense 60s. He evolved into a Pan Africanist who lived part-time in Ghana, wore bata karis adorned with Adinkra symbols every day, and was fond of giving African American students Ashanti names.

I was so down with my peeps back then. It was all about Africa - its glorious history, its unrecognized & untapped potential, its shinning future. Black Americans & Africans - we were all the same. Africans. Some never left the Continent, others - like me - were victims of an African Diaspora brought on by the TransAtlantic Slave Trade.

Believe me I was shocked to my toes to see my African husband argue any American (including me) into the ground who dared to claim Africa and Africans were - should - or could ever be one.

Historically, Americans subordinate allegiance to ethnic heritage in favor of a national identity. Irish-American, African-American, Korean-American, Mexican-American... "American" unites us all. E Pluribus Unum. Out of many, one.

To my American mind, unity is strength.

On the other hand, we have tribalism. Tribe is the center, the source, the guide, the organizing system of my husband's African mind. Europeans who carved up Africa during the 1885 Berlin Conference grouped together people who had "no business" being united under a single anything. The people groups referred to as "Nigerians" today were separate nations, like Italian city-states, each with its own ruler.

Nigeria's dominant ethnic groups have tried to work together & "get along" - it has been a failed experiment. (Read Uwem Akpan's excellent short story "Luxurious Hearses" for a snapshot of all the elements that must be combined for Nigeria to become united.) Today, my husband is convinced that splitting Nigeria into 5 parts can solve all its problems. Corruption magically disappears. Disorganization & chaos disappears. Why? Because fighting disappears. Tribes are each unified by their tribe's vision to advance the tribe as a whole. Everyone lives happily... ever... after.

If I grew up as he did, I'd probably believe as he does. But I'm extremely wary of this brand of tribalism because in the negative extreme, tribalism is the seed that can give rise to ethnic rivalry, tribal hatred & ethnic cleansing. I do not - maybe even cannot - believe fragmentation & division can ever trump unity & wholeness.

Many Nigerians are convinced Nigeria could change Africa if it ever got its sh*t together. If Nigeria is to ever become the world power it longs to be, it better learn how to live & work with people who are different. Learn how to build consensus despite differences. Start with the tribe next door.

I Don't Wanna Go To Africa No More More More...

I've done Nigeria. I've done it twice. And I've slept next to it for 16 years. After my 2nd trip, I decided I didn't want to do Nigeria anymore. In fact, its fair to say I don't want any part of Black sub-Saharan Africa. Not anymore.

I went to find a place where I belonged. I was infatuated. Eager to melt into a culture where I would be welcomed & embraced.

I arrived & found how alien I was.

Lagosians chanted the Yoruba word for a white person as I walked down the street. It irked me to no end that my Nigerian husband was so tickled by it. In my husband's home town, the children peered goggle eyed at me in church & in my car window. By their expressions (what is that?), it was as if they were looking @ an abomination. Yes, I expected stares... but not to that degree.

By Nigerian standards I guess I'm not really Black. I'm something else. I guess. I'm clearly not white - my skin isn't even particularly light. Some people tan within only a few shades of their natural color. Not me. My arms I can go from Beyonce bright to Biggie Smalls black in days. Yet my hair texture & a few features reveals mixed heritage.

It has been 14 years since I stepped foot in Lagos. At the end of this month, I will return. God help me.

My children are visiting their father's home for the 1st time. I'm eager for that reason alone to co-navigate their brief immersion into Nigerian society & Yoruba culture. There's a lot I want them to understand & experience first hand.

Generally...
The people are lovely.
The food delicious.
The traffic aggravating.
The infrastructure Third World.
The toilets traumatizing.

Nigeria is the most populous nation in Africa.
Lagos is a hive. Cacophanous commotion. Actively chaotic. Grimy with smog.
The people are intensely proud. Loud. Aggressive. Ambitious. Opinionated.
The country is world-renowned for scams & corruption.
The culture gave birth to voodoo.

It's my 3rd visit. I don't want to go with my defenses up but... they're up. Way up. Can't help it. How many times can I expect to be told how fat I am? At least once for person who comes to greet & welcome me. And I'll probably meet lots of those.

So I guess I better brace myself. Nigerians are are what they are. Judgmental & not shy about telling you what you should be doing. But I can't turn off my American sensibilities in Africa any more than they can turn off their Nigerian ones in America.

I have a few weeks to practice the fine art of politely telling someone I'm beginning to be insulted, you can shut the hell up now...

Off the hook all right

Last night, I watched Oprah's interview with John Edwards' "baby mama" Rielle Hunter. Someone called her a "New Age Airhead".

My reaction: Wow. She really is scum.

Not only because she slept with a married man. It was her sense of entitlement that bothered me. She claims to be a person who "lives by truth." With the affair now exposed, "Johnny" is now forced to "live a more authentic life" instead of the "lie" of a solid marriage to scary, emasculating Elizabeth Edwards.

In everything concerning the affair, Rielle Hunter felt perfectly justified. She (Rielle) was only following her heart. It's obvious she believes following her heart is always right. No matter who gets hurt. No matter that a dying woman's husband wants to screw you. Rielle didn't take vows to honor Elizabeth Edwards. Therefore, Rielle is off the hook. She's off the hook all right...

What's troubling is she truly believes she is on a superior spiritual path. She doesn't even recognize the acid trip her ego is on. The ego deceives (in church they call it "the flesh"; Freud calls it "the id"). It sees, it wants, it covets, it takes. Damn the consequences.

She's been fooled into believing her hormones & her heart are one & the same. She has concocted an elaborate "belief system" that justifies everything she does & exonerates her married boyfriend Johnny from any wrongdoing.

It must be nice inside that head of hers. Because everything is someone else's fault (e.g., the affair: Elizabeth's). People's opinions have nothing to do with her (the reason: you don't know me). You can't wreck a home where the marriage is strong (because: in her experience, 3rd parties can't wreck strong marriages).

For all her well-thought out justifications, Rielle fails to consider the simplest question of all and fails the simplest measure of human decency: how would you like it if someone did that to you?

Lady of Leisure

About 13 years ago, I took a detour from career path to the less demanding path leading to "just a grind that pays the bills". It is what it is & I don't regret it.

For 12 years, I did kids, jumped from mindless secretary job to mindless, demanding, well paying secretary job before burning out after 3 tax seasons at an accounting firm. So here I sit. The stay-at-home mom. And I'm astonished at my ability to manifest my destiny.

About 7 years in to my non-career, I was bored, exhausted & depressed. I used to say all the time "I'm ready to live life as a lady of leisure". I didn't exactly have a vision of what this "lady of leisure" did (that's not true... she was "Aunt Phoebe" from All My Children), but she was certainly older, whiter, more fabulous, had better credit, more friends, drank more martinis, drove a more luxurious car, rode more horses, visited more spas and shopping malls than barefoot, bluetoed, sweats-&-sweater-wearing, overweight, can't-drive-a-stick-or-ride-a-horse, 3 months-overdue-for-a-haircut me.

And yet somehow, when I take a step back, I see I now have as much leisure time as I ever dreamed.

But it dawned on me today that I have become a cliche. I have slid into the uncomfortable & cliched category of "housewife letting herself go" (or at least I have been for the last 2 months).

So now I'm beginning to wonder about those guys I see checking me out... what exactly are they looking at? Is it my imagination practicing a little confirmation bias & convincing me they might be... flirting... or do they have some sort of 6th "spidey sense" or x-ray vision that let's them peer past the Walmart baseball cap & hoody & into the future & what I look like after HOURS of preparation (pretty darned good, if I do say so myself).

Another thing I still say to this day is "I wish I could know what it's like to be in the body of a man for 24 hours," to have those hormones, that sex drive, that brain, those rules encouraging promiscuity, that tool attached to me, running my life.

For everyone's sake, let's hope I'm not as good at manifesting my destiny as I used to be.