Go Find Yourself

Somewhere along the path of life it is only human to “find one’s self.” I guess this usually happens during the teen years in America, but probably varies depending on what culture you grow up in. In my life, I struggled with self identity after my brother passed away in October 2002. I changed from this naive, extremely religious, little girl and developed some calluses. I realized that the world isn’t so kind, and I wouldn’t survive life away from home if I didn’t toughen up. I had my rounds with my parents since they didn’t understand why I was so different. I remember one particular incident where my new attitude offended my mother so much that she chased me around the house with a kitchen knife.

During this stage of my development I lacked respect for my mother. I blamed her in ways for my not knowing better about what was coming and shut her out. I learned, however, through many more trials and errors that her limited exposures in life weren’t her fault. My mom could only teach me what she, herself, had been taught.

Nyasha and Babamukuru’s relationship made me think of these days with my mother. Their fight reminded me of the dishes breaking in the kitchen from the tenseness I held them with when she was near. My father never got involved in the confrontations between my mother and I. It may have been a little bit backwards in my home at times but the concept and the devastation that followed the fights remains the same. Nyasha and I have in common, our rebellion against believing what we are told is the right way of doing things, is right, just because that’s what we are told. I prefer to determine things on my own. My mother and Babamukuru were only trying to keep their ingrained values and traditions intact in an ever-changing world. My father would say very little, to nothing, during these interactions, much like Maiguru. His pieces would be said when he had us one-on-one, individually. 

My mother would push her religious beliefs on me. I was constantly accused of not being a virgin, and lying about my agenda for the day. I never gave reason for her to believe these things were true. The only reason she thought this was because I was a teenager. Eventually I quit fighting and just gave in. I figured if she condemned me for things I hadn’t done and punished me then I may as well have fun. Nyasha, too, went through the accusations. Although she was much younger than I was, she still indulged herself to other things as well, such as cigarettes.

In America, there are many ways to be colonized. My mother tried to mold me into the ways of her ideal of what a Christian you lady should be and still adapt to life outside. I didn’t take to it very well. Babamukuru tried to keep Nyasha in the Shona ways while she was already colonized to the English. This also failed.

Through my experiences I believe it’s possible for one to become accustomed to being a part of two different backgrounds, but I also think that when making the choice of which is “theirs” they should be allowed to choose for themselves. Personally, for me, I couldn’t take part in two different cultures entirely. I can take the bits and pieces and that is whom I am, but I could never say that one particular background is I. I would never expect for Nyasha to say that English, or Shona is who she is.  Today, everyone is made up of different cultural backgrounds. Back in Nyasha’s teenage years, we were all trying to figure out how to get along. Granted, we don’t always play well together, but at least we don’t have to lose who we are to someone else’s standards of what is right.