In the year 2011, I went to an American Private School in Massachusetts for an exchange program. Well, this was the first time I was owning a passport, later on, experiencing anything beyond the formal demarcations of Uganda. That is not to say that I knew Uganda beyond the central and western regions.
I remember being welcomed alongside a couple of colleagues from Uganda, Kenya and Botswana as the exchange students from Africa. These, my fellow Africans, were very cheerful and delighted just like I was to be considered one as though we shared a nationality or even a clan, something I initially thought was all to my identity. They immediately became brothers and sisters with whom I was so fortunate to explore what the American dream was.
Of the five females from the African Continent, I was the only one who wore my hair naturally and by that I mean short, spiky with almost an inch of length. Thanks to my very conservative father, I could not braid my hair before I embarked on the trip like the other girls did. Quite often I got the unexpected looks which I naively interpreted as being attractive in a beautiful kind of way. Later on, I learnt that my hair was quite the attraction.
As the ground leveled and hearts opened towards each other, a couple of my new acquaintances had this to ask; "Is Africa a country?", "why is your hair standing?", while another asked, "how come you guys(Africans) speak such good English, flaunt such good fashion if you actually stay in trees?" It took me ages to actually disentangle these short and precise question for my own understanding. This was not because I was slow but because I was shocked at how someone with so much information at their fingertips could be so ignorant about Africa. At the heart of this ignorance was a constant generalisation and innocence to a certain extent that made me nostalgic. I have since invited of couple of them to come to my home (Africa) and experience the African dream.
These questions did not sit well with my soul, so much that up to this day I am baffled by the African identity. Is it the color of my skin, the variety of our foods or the land that has nurtured us? Is it my hair, my body type or the gorgeous fabric we call African that clothes us? Is it my multifaceted ability to do almost anything as a woman (African woman)? Is it the languages we speak, the sound of our music, the dynamic and magnificent folk dances or perhaps this thing we know as culture? Is it the breathtaking terrain whose beauty I have taken for granted all these years?
What is it that makes me African? It's unfortunate or fortunate that I had to first step out of my boundaries to feel exactly what was within them. Indeed, the grass always looks greener on the other side. For whatever makes you feel African, I beseech you to embrace it.
From my Geography and Social Studies, I knew I was Ugandan before I was African. But today, I know that I have always been African. The landmarks that made some of us Kenyan, Rwandan, Tanzanian, Ethiopian, Moroccan, Sudanese, Nigerian or even South African, are just that, marks. Today I know that before I was female, before I was a Muhinda, a Muhororo, before I was Ugandan, before I was East African, I was African. Africa has seized to look like a geographical feature but as an experience, a feeling, a being, a living and a belonging and for all that I will ever be or desire to be, Africa will always be the pivot to all my existence.
For this and more I can strongly say that I am proud to be African. An African that is fused with the spirits of her ancestors, their struggles, their victories and histories.
HAPPY AFRICA DAY
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