I was at my daughter’s Christmas concert today. I’ve been
going to it for the last 5 years and this year kids really out did themselves.
They sang more complex songs, they were witty and best of all, they kept their
attention focused. The highlight for me was when they sang the national anthem.
About half a dozen scouts came out and did a wonderful rendition of the
national anthem and the audience also joined.
O God of all creation
Bless this our land and nation
Justice be our shield and defender
May we dwell in unity
Peace and liberty
Plenty be found within our borders
Bless this our land and nation
Justice be our shield and defender
May we dwell in unity
Peace and liberty
Plenty be found within our borders
I stood on tiptoes to see Maria singing. Although I couldn’t
hear her singular voice over anyone else, I could see her poise and confidence
as she was singing. The crowd too seemed to be totally focused. It was their national anthem after all. By the
time the three stanzas were done I had silly tears in my eyes. It wasn’t just
that the anthem was moving; it was more because everyone belonged here and they
were part of it. Apart from the smattering of expats everyone was singing. It
was their song. Their anthem. It was
slightly uncomfortable to stand there and not even know the words to it all.
But my conflict went deeper than not knowing the lyrics. It made me realize
that I didn’t even know my own national anthem. So I stood there, and for the
two minutes that took to sing the whole anthem I realized that I did not belong
there. I am not Kenyan. I live on a renewable permit valid for two years at a
time. Nor am I truly Ethiopian. I’m just a random stranger on Earth.
The last few days I’ve actually been thinking about my place
in this world. I’m not talking about a Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Teresa, or Bill
Gates, historical and philosophical sort of place in this world. It was more of
a place of belonging. A place where I can put my roots down and keep them
growing. My entire life has been spent
moving from country to country. In thirty odd years I’ve moved an average of 13
times. My family moved back to Ethiopia in 98. Ten years later I moved again,
this time to Kenya and with my own family. I hadn’t really stayed in one place
long enough to belong and call it home. You might think that ten years in any
place is a long enough time to acclimatize and acculturate. When you’ve spent
your entire life within a culture that is so different, it is supremely
difficult to learn all the steps of a new country. Case in point, I grew up
believing I was going to marry my handsome cousin. Yikes, right? But that’s a
totally normal way of life in the Middle East.
About two years ago a friend of mine from Poland came to
visit me in Nairobi. He too, like me, was a product of two different cultures,
perhaps made worse by the fact that his mom was Christian and Polish and his
father was Muslim and Yemeni. Where do you begin to consolidate your life with
such varying degrees of separation? Sadly, parents are rarely aware of the
conflict that runs within their children’s veins. And kids are too young anyway
to begin to articulate the situation so the whole thing just drags out like a
Spanish soap opera.
The few years I’ve spent in Kenya have sort of invalidated
or robbed me of that “Ethiopian” feeling and I don’t know how to get it back.
It becomes hard to keep any tradition when you’re swallowed by the local
culture here. You end up feeling like an island within your own continent. I’m
neither Egyptian, Yemeni, Ethiopian, nor Kenyan. I don’t pledge allegiance to
any flag. I don’t sing the anthem of any nation. I don’t celebrate the holidays
of any particular country.
Today when I’m struggling with keeping my identity as a
citizen of the world who has no anthem to call her own, it’s the voice of my
daughter that rings above the din of all others. She is going to grow and know
where she belongs. She won’t be hopping from capital, to shore to continent,
and from anthem to anthem, not knowing what the next stage of her life is going
to be. I know parents mean the best and try to ultimately do the best by their
kids. Creating roots, traditions, everyday meaningful little things that last a
lifetime however, are perhaps the biggest treasures they can bestow on them. Giving
them an anthem to call their own is the ultimate sense of belonging.
What about you, my friends and citizens of this world? What
is your national anthem?
Ee Mungu nguvu
yetu
Ilete baraka kwetu
Haki iwe ngao na
mlinzi
Natukae na undugu
Amani na uhuru
Raha tupate na
ustawi
Amkeni ndugu zetu
Tufanye sote bidii
Nasi tujitoe kwa
nguvu
Nchi yetu ya Kenya
Tunayoipenda
Tuwe tayari
kuilindai
Natujenge taifa
letu
Ee, ndio wajibu
wetu
Kenya istahili
heshima
Tuungane mikono
Pamoja kazini
Kila siku tuwe na
shukrani

