foreign born

today the air was different.
it was clear and dry. 
the sky was blue and bright and the sun felt hotter.
i think it might finally be the end of the rainy season. 
the true beginning of summer, just in time for Christmas, reminding me of when my summer camp would have a 'Christmas in July' celebration.

last night we went to the graduation celebration for the Uganda Studies Program Students.  these are US students doing a study abroad program in Uganda and studying at uganda christian university, where we live and work.  the night was perfect.  it was cool outside and the party was hosted on the top of a hill, on a beautiful lawn overlooking the towns below.  on the lawn is the most magnificent tree i have ever seen.  ever.  we watched the sun set and the nearly full moon rise over this town and through the branches of this amazing tree.  i wish i had a picture of that moon through that tree last night and looking down over the big tent and tikki lamps in that bright blue sky before full darkness comes.  spectacular.  and several things came to mind. 

first of all, i have to comment on ugandan celebrations.  the key ingredients seem to be: length and food, lots of both.  but there are other things always present.  there is always an MC, always.  this is part of the formality.  it appears to be the MCs job to make sure that everyone important has been formally introduced and given appropriate applause. this often includes at least half of the party. then there are the speeches, always.  and the speeches often begin with acknowledging the people present who've been introduced already.  so there is a lot of repetition.  it's in these times that i realize what a truly impatient person i am.  i also realize that i'm just not into formality, in fact i'm almost against it.  i just keep thinking of all that time wasted on introductions and clapping, i'd rather have time for milling around and having interesting one on one conversations. 

i love watching jane austin films.  movies that transport me back to victorian times when women wore corsets and impractically long dresses that always look to be dragging in the mud but never appear muddy.  when women were supposed to be cultured, and knowledgeable on relatively useless topics but uninvited to participate in important topics.  when there were rules, strong cultural rules.  when it wasn't proper to say a certain thing to a certain someone.  i always watch them fascinated but with no desire to have lived in that time.   i would have disgraced myself or my family by refusing an arranged marriage to some awful man to save my poor family from ruin.  i would  have insisted on marrying for love.  but there is something about the formality in those films that reminds me a little bit of the formality in ugandan celebrations. 

being in another culture, in another people's homeland requires something.  it requires respect of that culture, and bending and tolerance, acceptance and willingness to partake even if partaking demands patience and formality, and not wearing shorts to the campus canteen.   one of the speeches addressed this.  the vice chancellor spoke to the graduating students about the importance of embracing the culture you are living in and the importance of demonstrating this with your dress and learning the language.  these outward cultural expressions communicate to the native people, that you care, that you are aware that you are the one who entered into their culture.  he specifically commented on how nice it was to see so many of the students wearing the traditional ugandan dress, and that one of the girls who spoke, gave her speech in luganda.  these things impressed him as a ugandan- it showed their commitment.  listening to this wise mzee (older gentleman)- i began to think.

i began to think about how i don't think about this enough.  how i'm often more concerned with 'holding on to my identity' or maintaining who i am, than really becoming ugandan.  maybe part of it is being called muzungu everywhere i go.  and if i were to wear a traditional outfit and speak luganda then i'd hear,  "look at the muzungu in the traditional outfit speaking luganda!"  i can't get away from being white and foreign born.  so wearing it, and speaking 'lugandan english' as jude calls it (how aahhh you! instead of how are you) feels phoney. 

but i know what he means.  it's about engaging with it and living in it,  instead of just observing and living next to it.  it's about acknowledging and embracing being a muzungu- ie: a white foreign born person living in east africa.  and this i totally get and agree with. 

because i'm not simply an american anymore, i'm a ugandan muzungu or that's what i'm becoming.