I showed up for my African community.
I squirmed as my mother zipped up my kaba and straightened out my skirt. As she saw how light danced off the shiny stripes on my rose pink outfit, she was ecstatic to see me in Ghanaian wear. She was proud. I was not. I knew what was ahead. I could already hear the snickers and sneers of Ms. Cohen’s second grade class and their infamous clicking sounds, “Don’t you guys speak *click* *click*?” I was embarrassed of Ghanaian culture and wanted nothing to do with it.
But this started changing when I befriended other first-generation African Americans at school. In eighth grade I met Maxine, Marwa, and Zeze from Ghana, Morocco, and Sierra Leone. We listened to afrobeats, wore our cultural wear, and most of all, encouraged each other not to be ashamed of our culture. These friendships encouraged me to educate myself on Ghanaian language, culture and history. I turned to my parents for help with pronunciations in Twi, our native language, and tried to become fluent in both our language and our traditions.
During my junior year, I traveled to Ghana with my dad for the first time in fourteen years. Upon arrival, I had to adjust to things like mixing boiling water with cold tap water to get warm bath water. I quickly grew accustomed to this lifestyle and realized that the Africa portrayed on screen is not the Africa I was living in. The towering shelves of Kente cloth at Makola Market, the meticulously crafted name bracelets, and the easygoing nature of life showed me Ghana’s beauty. I was captivated by the cheer and contentment people displayed regardless of their circumstance. I brought back name bracelets, cloth fans, and other jewelry for my friends, and not before long wanted to learn and share more of my culture. I continued to immerse myself in the history, customs, and culture of African nations.
My quest to discover the richness of African culture only deepened with the extra time during quarantine. I began binge-watching documentaries like Zeinab Badawi’s History of Africa. I frequently stayed up well into the night learning about the Aksum and Kush Empires, indigenous religions, and the rise of kings and Emirs. I listened to various African languages being spoken on WikiTongues, because I wondered how Twi’s phonetics compared to languages like Tigryna and Herero. I became fascinated with Bantu languages because of how smooth and melodic they are and even started to learn Swahili. But then I thought to myself, if there is so much linguistic and ethnic diversity in Africa, why then do we generalize the African identity?
Determined to find an answer, I turned to my parents once more, and through proverbs they illustrated shared values that many Africans hold dear. The Twi proverb, “Nkakra nkakra akoko be nom nsuo,” means “Little by little the chicken will drink water.” Similarly, the Swahili proverb, “Haba na haba hujaza kibaba,” means “Little by little fills the measure.” Though they come from opposite ends, West and East Africa, both proverbs point to the importance of starting small to achieve our goals. The beauty of Africa is that even across 54 countries and over 1.2 billion people, individuality in our culture is reconciled with unity in our values.