The Heart of an African Mother Raising Sons in America

An African get together in any American city is usually a highly anticipated event. Be it a birthday party, kitchen party, baby shower, or just a ‘come over to the house for some African food’ party, it is a time for us to reconnect with friends from our homeland and, for that afternoon or evening, a time to escape from the everyday stress of paying bills and high gas prices and all the other drama living in America tends to bring. In the company of our brethren, we worry not about our pronunciation or the many questions about what we’re eating, we are with people to whom we owe no explanation.

It is also a normal occurrence at these functions, that the kids are in one area while the grown ups are in another. The kids are plopped on the couch watching TV or on their X-boxes. A stranger walking into the gathering would not immediately recognize these kids as African. Their accents sound like any other American accent, and their knowledge of pop culture is as good as their American counterparts. Some can carry on a full conversation in their native tongue and switch back to their American lingo in a flash. Others understand their native tongue, but can only answer in English because they were not taught. Then there are those kids who turn their noses up at any thing to do with their African heritage. They find the food disgusting and prefer English to the “gibberish” their parents speak. They relate more to the American side of things and since they were born in America, they are American, right? Their birth certificates may say so but they are African too.

I am a mother to two sons. They turn 5 and 7 this year. I have exposed them to my language and my food. I am married to an African-American man and he embraces my culture. My sons understand some words in Tumbuka, which is my native language, but they are unable to carry out a conversation with me. I would love for them to be bilingual like I am but I find it extremely hard when only one parent speaks the language and the other speaks English. I visited a French couple the other day, and when I saw them communicate with their 3 year old son in French and just as quickly switch to English, the green eyed monster called jealousy came over me - but just as quickly I understood that there are many other ways I can instill Zambian culture into my children.

I attended my last year of High School in the U.S.A., and it was my formal introduction to how cruel and ignorant racism can be. I had people ask me dumb questions like, “Do you swing from tree to tree like monkeys do back in Africa?” and “Do you wear clothes in Africa?” I could not believe people that appeared so knowledgeable could be so clueless. I want to believe that my sons will not be asked these same questions but I have to prepare them nonetheless.

The longer anyone not from the U.S.A stays in the U.S.A, the more likely they undergo the process of assimilation. This is where a minority group gradually adopts the customs and attitudes of the prevailing culture. Our accents change little by little as each year goes by. We favor a comfortable pair of jeans over our traditional dress. It is a process that we go through to make our life away from home more comfortable but children born here act American from day one. They grow up watching American television and most times the first words they utter are in an American accent.

Like any mother, I want to send thoughtful, caring, intelligent men into the world who treat everyone in the way they would like to be treated. I would also like them to be equally in tune with their Zambian and American heritage. I would like them to know that Zambia celebrated it’s independence on October 24, 1964 and I want them to celebrate July 4th of each year. I would like them to have balance in their lives. What is most important to me is to instill pride in my sons; Zambian pride, African pride. It is vital for them to know that while Play Stations and X-boxes are cool, they have cousins their same age in Zambia who are as entertained with their wire cars and rubber tires. There is not one difference between them.