When I was 21, I went to Kenya against their wishes. Osama Bin Laden attacked the U.S. Embassy in Nairobi just two weeks before I left. They had reason to be worried. I am a stubborn person and once I make up my mind, there is no turning back. So it was that I went to Kenya and met two families who changed my life forever.
First I went to Nairobi and met the Mutua family. They are wonderful, open-minded people who introduced me to Kenyan life. They also introduced me to the Mbithi family in Mombasa, where I lived for seven months. The Mbithi family was always laughing and my cheeks hurt from smiling so wide just thinking about them. Nancy and Lydia, the "moms" met in college in the 1960's and remained close friends ever since.
I am so grateful to both families for their gifts. They accepted me into their homes, a naive, and clueless skateboarding girl and showed me unconditional love. They didn't mind my short hair, baggy overalls, and non-feminine appearance. They bought soymilk for me so I could drink chai with them every day and they taught me how to cook chapati and githeri. They showed me that love has no borders and that truly, all humans are the same everywhere on the planet. This lesson has resonated with me so clearly that I have spent every day of my life since I met them confirming this basic fact.
My family in Benin is the Gbenou clan. Papa Valentin had 8 wives (not all at the same time) and more than 40 children (no one knows for sure!). Papa Valentin's first wife is NehNeh, and she is my grandmother. Her daughter married the Voudun chief, Papa Davis, and he is my father. His children and the most beautiful people I have met. I spent every evening in their house, sitting on a small wooden stool and smiling while Papa Davis and all of the old men from the neighborhood, recited prayers and drank distilled palm wine.
Papa Valentin died in 2006 at the age of 102. He was an incredible man who’s live spanned French colonization, independence, and post-independence. Although he was the village chief during French rule, the village was affected by the changing times. Located on an isolated island in a river valley, Gbeko has remained virtually untouched by modern times. When I lived there in 2002-2004, there were no telephones, electricity, sanitation, etc. The village was just a collection of mud houses connected by narrow sandy paths cut from the surrounding forest. To this day, Gbeko is the poorest place I have ever seen. Despite the hardship and misery, every day was a parade of singing and dancing as I followed the winding paths to visit all of my friends. They taught me how to live in a close society, how to properly greet people and show hospitality to visitors. It was a magical place, suspended in space and time.
The Gbenou family viewed the world from such a difference lens than I did. Living with them really challenged my values and worldview. Without a translator to explain the cultural aspects I witnessed, I didn't understand most of what was happening around me. I learned that there are things in the world that cannot be explained and there are differences that separate me from others that I will not be able to understand. Yet, despite these vast differences, we formed a strong bond. To love people, whom I couldn't understand or decode, was also a powerful lesson in my life. Love truly transcends all borders.
I met Aminata in New York in 2006. I went to visit her and meet her children in Kaolack, Senega in 2009l. This is my Senegalese family. They show me so much love and whenever I am in their home I feel completely at peace. I love them so much. When Aminata was in New York she gave birth to Badiane. She is now six years old and I feel a special bond with her, since I have known her and loved her before she was even born.
Aminata has been working steadily to help me embrace my feminine qualities. She buys for me frilly dresses and sends her daughter to take me shopping to buy matching shoes. I have acquiesced to the beautiful clothes and even will wear the shoes, but she has not yet succeeded in getting me to carry a frilly froufrou purse or wear make-up. She doesn't push or insist but slowly has helped me to become more integrated in Senegalese culture. I love her, and her entire family, dearly.
Aminata introduced me to Aissata, a ten-year-old Mauritanian girl who came to New York in 2007. I helped Aissata adjust to life in the United States and visited her family nearly everyday. They are my Mauritanian family. They introduced me to their extended family in Feralla, Mauritania. I have spent every vacation with them since I arrived in Mauritania 2010.
My Feralla family live in a simple house without electricity or water. Yet, their teen daughters have so much in common with their cousin Aissata in New York and with my nieces in Minnesota. The lives of adolescent girls are becoming more and more the same, as globalization spreads and even in the most remote corners of the world girls wear the same clothes and listen to the same music. Whether we like it or not, it is a force for change.
Aissata, Bano, and Mali all taught me that friendship has no age. Even though I am the same age as Aissata's mother, I view her as my equal in every sense of the word. Aissata is my little sister, niece, daughter and best friend all in one. Now she is 17-years-old and even though she never attended school before she came to the U.S., she is now on the honor roll, in AP History, and among the best students at her high school. Her achievements are miraculous. Her cousins in the village are not doing as well in school. They walk 12 kilometers round trip to school each day, in extremely hot weather, and when they get home they are physically and mentally exhausted. There's no time to rest - as they are still required to all of the grueling day-to-day chores. When they finish their work, there is no place to study and no electricity either. They are the first generation of girls to go to school in Feralla - facing a thousand years of obstacles.
I owe a debt of gratitude to all of these families. Although I might not be the best at staying in touch - not calling, writing, or visiting for years - they are always in my heart. The lessons they taught me have contributed so much to my life and I am a better person for meeting each one of them. I wish that I could bring all of these families together - a real family reunion. I am their daughter, Delia Jane Dunlap Mutua Mbithi Gbenou Bassoum Ba.
First I went to Nairobi and met the Mutua family. They are wonderful, open-minded people who introduced me to Kenyan life. They also introduced me to the Mbithi family in Mombasa, where I lived for seven months. The Mbithi family was always laughing and my cheeks hurt from smiling so wide just thinking about them. Nancy and Lydia, the "moms" met in college in the 1960's and remained close friends ever since.
I am so grateful to both families for their gifts. They accepted me into their homes, a naive, and clueless skateboarding girl and showed me unconditional love. They didn't mind my short hair, baggy overalls, and non-feminine appearance. They bought soymilk for me so I could drink chai with them every day and they taught me how to cook chapati and githeri. They showed me that love has no borders and that truly, all humans are the same everywhere on the planet. This lesson has resonated with me so clearly that I have spent every day of my life since I met them confirming this basic fact.
My family in Benin is the Gbenou clan. Papa Valentin had 8 wives (not all at the same time) and more than 40 children (no one knows for sure!). Papa Valentin's first wife is NehNeh, and she is my grandmother. Her daughter married the Voudun chief, Papa Davis, and he is my father. His children and the most beautiful people I have met. I spent every evening in their house, sitting on a small wooden stool and smiling while Papa Davis and all of the old men from the neighborhood, recited prayers and drank distilled palm wine.
Papa Valentin died in 2006 at the age of 102. He was an incredible man who’s live spanned French colonization, independence, and post-independence. Although he was the village chief during French rule, the village was affected by the changing times. Located on an isolated island in a river valley, Gbeko has remained virtually untouched by modern times. When I lived there in 2002-2004, there were no telephones, electricity, sanitation, etc. The village was just a collection of mud houses connected by narrow sandy paths cut from the surrounding forest. To this day, Gbeko is the poorest place I have ever seen. Despite the hardship and misery, every day was a parade of singing and dancing as I followed the winding paths to visit all of my friends. They taught me how to live in a close society, how to properly greet people and show hospitality to visitors. It was a magical place, suspended in space and time.
The Gbenou family viewed the world from such a difference lens than I did. Living with them really challenged my values and worldview. Without a translator to explain the cultural aspects I witnessed, I didn't understand most of what was happening around me. I learned that there are things in the world that cannot be explained and there are differences that separate me from others that I will not be able to understand. Yet, despite these vast differences, we formed a strong bond. To love people, whom I couldn't understand or decode, was also a powerful lesson in my life. Love truly transcends all borders.
I met Aminata in New York in 2006. I went to visit her and meet her children in Kaolack, Senega in 2009l. This is my Senegalese family. They show me so much love and whenever I am in their home I feel completely at peace. I love them so much. When Aminata was in New York she gave birth to Badiane. She is now six years old and I feel a special bond with her, since I have known her and loved her before she was even born.
Aminata has been working steadily to help me embrace my feminine qualities. She buys for me frilly dresses and sends her daughter to take me shopping to buy matching shoes. I have acquiesced to the beautiful clothes and even will wear the shoes, but she has not yet succeeded in getting me to carry a frilly froufrou purse or wear make-up. She doesn't push or insist but slowly has helped me to become more integrated in Senegalese culture. I love her, and her entire family, dearly.
Aminata introduced me to Aissata, a ten-year-old Mauritanian girl who came to New York in 2007. I helped Aissata adjust to life in the United States and visited her family nearly everyday. They are my Mauritanian family. They introduced me to their extended family in Feralla, Mauritania. I have spent every vacation with them since I arrived in Mauritania 2010.
My Feralla family live in a simple house without electricity or water. Yet, their teen daughters have so much in common with their cousin Aissata in New York and with my nieces in Minnesota. The lives of adolescent girls are becoming more and more the same, as globalization spreads and even in the most remote corners of the world girls wear the same clothes and listen to the same music. Whether we like it or not, it is a force for change.
Aissata, Bano, and Mali all taught me that friendship has no age. Even though I am the same age as Aissata's mother, I view her as my equal in every sense of the word. Aissata is my little sister, niece, daughter and best friend all in one. Now she is 17-years-old and even though she never attended school before she came to the U.S., she is now on the honor roll, in AP History, and among the best students at her high school. Her achievements are miraculous. Her cousins in the village are not doing as well in school. They walk 12 kilometers round trip to school each day, in extremely hot weather, and when they get home they are physically and mentally exhausted. There's no time to rest - as they are still required to all of the grueling day-to-day chores. When they finish their work, there is no place to study and no electricity either. They are the first generation of girls to go to school in Feralla - facing a thousand years of obstacles.
I owe a debt of gratitude to all of these families. Although I might not be the best at staying in touch - not calling, writing, or visiting for years - they are always in my heart. The lessons they taught me have contributed so much to my life and I am a better person for meeting each one of them. I wish that I could bring all of these families together - a real family reunion. I am their daughter, Delia Jane Dunlap Mutua Mbithi Gbenou Bassoum Ba.
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