La Vida Multicultural
I am from the mountains of Harlan, KY.
I grew up, for the most part, surrounded by one language, one race, one religion. The biggest "cultural" behavior differences existed between the city school kids and the county school kids. The city school kids stopped wearing bangs before we did in the early 90's and were, in general, more snobby than we were (of course, my opinion may be a bit biased). We were mostly all white, mostly all protestant, mostly all with the same accent. Once in a while you would meet someone who was a Tennessee fan instead of a Kentucky fan.
This was normal life.
I love where I grew up, and I'm thankful for such a wonderful home. I love going back to the mountains. I wouldn't trade my hometown for anything.
But it's definitely different than life here. I live in Madrid, Spain.
To say that my life here is the opposite in many ways is not an exaggeration. Rather than simply describe life here, I'll give you an example.
Last night, our community group decided to do something that would bring us out into the community, and that would give us an opportunity to invite friends who might not be comfortable with a Bible study in someone's apartment. So we went to Cafe Manuela, a local cafe with great coffee and board games. We were sixteen people in all, crammed around a table that might have been intended to fit ten. The people immediately around me were from Australia, Holland, Germany, Nigeria, Peru, the U.S., and Morrocco (I hope I didn't leave anyone out!), and we decided to play a game of rummicub, because it's all numbers and doesn't have any questions that would give one language an advantage. I struggled through trying to explain rules in English and Spanish without mixing the two and failed more than a few times--I'm horrible at speaking two languages in the same conversation. The game went on with the main conversation in English and Spanish, with some side conversation in Dutch and German. A guy in the group from Nigeria was sitting next to me, and as I played, he taught me to count to ten in Ibo, one of the languages from Nigeria. That makes nine languages in my useless collection. I can count to ten all over the world, but nothing more!
It's on nights like this where the question "Where are you from?" often is answered with the question "Do you want the long version or the short version?"
This is normal now. This is life.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have always grown up in more than one culture. Would the homogenous region I'm from be as much of a shock as the diversity of Madrid was at first to me? A couple of weeks ago Kelly and April Crull and I were hanging out at the Cady's house. In the course of a conversation, Kelly said to 9 year old Meaghan Cady, "You're so sentimental."
She thought about the word for a minute and then asked, "What's that word in English?" I couldn't help but laugh. When I was a kid, it never would have occurred to me that a word I didn't understand was another language, and that was her first reaction! But I guess for the daughter of an American father and a Canadian (by way of Ecuador) mom who lives in Spain, why else wouldn't you understand a word? (Amy, who is 26, asked the same question today when I used the word "imbibing" in a sentence)
I no longer live in one culture. This is normal now.
I am from the mountains of Harlan, KY. I spent 3/4 of my life there. That is my culture. But now this is my culture too--the mix, the differences, the learning, the language, the diversity.
It's a strange place to be, this mix. There is a tension in me between a strong love for where I'm from and a strong love for where I am right now, and in the middle of that tension is where I live. This is what it is to be an "international," an "expat," an "extranjero," or whatever you want to call it. We live in that tension. We bring our homes with us and make new homes here. We struggle through new languages and new customs and try to reconcile them with what we've always known. We change our definitions of normal and we adapt and we grow to love where we are.
Will I always live in this place, this tension? Will "where are you from?" ever be a simple question again? Do I even want it to be? Will I ever have a permanent definition of a "normal life?" Do I want one?
I don't know.
I grew up, for the most part, surrounded by one language, one race, one religion. The biggest "cultural" behavior differences existed between the city school kids and the county school kids. The city school kids stopped wearing bangs before we did in the early 90's and were, in general, more snobby than we were (of course, my opinion may be a bit biased). We were mostly all white, mostly all protestant, mostly all with the same accent. Once in a while you would meet someone who was a Tennessee fan instead of a Kentucky fan.
This was normal life.
I love where I grew up, and I'm thankful for such a wonderful home. I love going back to the mountains. I wouldn't trade my hometown for anything.
But it's definitely different than life here. I live in Madrid, Spain.
To say that my life here is the opposite in many ways is not an exaggeration. Rather than simply describe life here, I'll give you an example.
Last night, our community group decided to do something that would bring us out into the community, and that would give us an opportunity to invite friends who might not be comfortable with a Bible study in someone's apartment. So we went to Cafe Manuela, a local cafe with great coffee and board games. We were sixteen people in all, crammed around a table that might have been intended to fit ten. The people immediately around me were from Australia, Holland, Germany, Nigeria, Peru, the U.S., and Morrocco (I hope I didn't leave anyone out!), and we decided to play a game of rummicub, because it's all numbers and doesn't have any questions that would give one language an advantage. I struggled through trying to explain rules in English and Spanish without mixing the two and failed more than a few times--I'm horrible at speaking two languages in the same conversation. The game went on with the main conversation in English and Spanish, with some side conversation in Dutch and German. A guy in the group from Nigeria was sitting next to me, and as I played, he taught me to count to ten in Ibo, one of the languages from Nigeria. That makes nine languages in my useless collection. I can count to ten all over the world, but nothing more!
It's on nights like this where the question "Where are you from?" often is answered with the question "Do you want the long version or the short version?"
This is normal now. This is life.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have always grown up in more than one culture. Would the homogenous region I'm from be as much of a shock as the diversity of Madrid was at first to me? A couple of weeks ago Kelly and April Crull and I were hanging out at the Cady's house. In the course of a conversation, Kelly said to 9 year old Meaghan Cady, "You're so sentimental."
She thought about the word for a minute and then asked, "What's that word in English?" I couldn't help but laugh. When I was a kid, it never would have occurred to me that a word I didn't understand was another language, and that was her first reaction! But I guess for the daughter of an American father and a Canadian (by way of Ecuador) mom who lives in Spain, why else wouldn't you understand a word? (Amy, who is 26, asked the same question today when I used the word "imbibing" in a sentence)
I no longer live in one culture. This is normal now.
I am from the mountains of Harlan, KY. I spent 3/4 of my life there. That is my culture. But now this is my culture too--the mix, the differences, the learning, the language, the diversity.
It's a strange place to be, this mix. There is a tension in me between a strong love for where I'm from and a strong love for where I am right now, and in the middle of that tension is where I live. This is what it is to be an "international," an "expat," an "extranjero," or whatever you want to call it. We live in that tension. We bring our homes with us and make new homes here. We struggle through new languages and new customs and try to reconcile them with what we've always known. We change our definitions of normal and we adapt and we grow to love where we are.
Will I always live in this place, this tension? Will "where are you from?" ever be a simple question again? Do I even want it to be? Will I ever have a permanent definition of a "normal life?" Do I want one?
I don't know.
posted by kelly_w at 4:02 PM
3 Comments:
Nice description, Kelly. Good thoughts. Thanks for the post.
T
Kelly, I am so proud of you, breaking out of the "normalcy" of life over here, and tackling the unknown "over there." God has so much to offer us in this life, if only we listen and jump out of our comfort zones. Stay brave, stay strong, keep on learning, learning, learning! Love, Aunt Carolyn
Kelly,
I love your blog and have read most of it. I would have loved to have been in the cafe with all of the nationalities that you described. My world is colorful now in the US and always has been, but my heart is yearning for a place that I've never traveled to. Each day I increasingly believe that the Lord is moving me to Spain. It's just a matter of His opening of doors. In my waiting time I am limping along with learning spanish. Please continue to write about what He is doing in your life.
E
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