One always seems to gain a greater appreciation for where they come from and their roots the further away they find themselves from home. This rings true for Lulu Kitololo, read on as she takes us through her journey of self-discovery.
One Friday night a few weeks ago London’s Victoria & Albert, the world’s greatest museum of art and design, felt just like home. The event, a Friday Late function with this month’s theme – Afropolitans*.
Let me set the scene: Wax print workshops; a Malick Sidibé style photo studio; fashion inspired by a mix of African and Western influences; a North African type salon with furniture made out of recycled packaging; Spoek Mathambo performing live on stage; Shingai Shoniwa and Thandiswa Mazwai spotted in the crowds. Beautiful people adorned in colourful prints, bold accessories and myriad Afro hair styles. An eclectic vision of Africa, not specific to a single nation, yet expressive of a unified soul.
This uniquely diasporan experience has become my surrogate home.
Officially, home for me is Kenya. It’s where I was born to a Kenyan father and a Tanzanian mother. I don’t know if it’s my father’s staunch patriotism, or my experiences of community and a thorough appreciation of the soil in Tanzania. I don’t know what it is that engendered in me this big love for where I come from. I was educated in a British system school, while I’m grateful for my education, it was quite lacking in the department of African history and culture. Observing this oversight, I sought to fill in the gaps on my own.
Returning from the start
When I left Kenya, at the age of 18 to study in the US, my eagerness for this learning only grew. For the first time in my life I was in a place where I was constantly made conscious of where I was from. Whether it was by people who were curious, people who’d never met a Kenyan or even an African before or simply because of the fact that, for the first time, I was a VISIBLE minority in my environment. I took advantage of classes offered in Black literature, world literature and African film – all substantial explorations of the historic, cultural and political contexts, as much as being about aesthetics and style. I took advantage of New York City and its various events, places and interest groups engaged in Africa. I got to know Africans from all over the continent – sampling their cuisine, discovering their music, learning their history and through all this, I realised that we were connected in ways beyond what I’d imagined.
After a serious operation and the life-altering decisions that one is inspired to make in such situations, I decided it was time to get serious about my interest. This landed me in England, at London’s School of Oriental and African Studies. Imagine my delight when I discovered that such a place existed! I was ecstatic and although a lot of people back home could not comprehend why I, an African, felt the need to pursue a degree in the subject. There was an unspoken assumption that , “did I not know enough simply by being born one?”
Self-knowledge is not a given
Addressing this very mindset has engaged a lot of my time and effort over the past few years. It’s the premise of my blog, Afri-love**, that self-knowledge, self-respect and self-love are the foundations for growth and creating true change for ourselves, our communities, our continent and our world. After all, being born in a hospital does not mean that one innately knows all there is to know about medicine!
In the last 11 years, the time that I have lived outside Africa, I have learned so much about so many different aspects of so many different parts of the continent; of Kenya and, ultimately, of who I am. It has taken me leaving my country and continent, and viewing it from the perspective of outsiders, in order for me to feel more connected to it. It has involved me living outside to find my place as a citizen of the CONTINENT, rather than of just of one nation-state.
A perpetual outsider?
There are downsides. Being away from Kenya for so long has meant that I’ve often felt like an outsider, in many ways, when in Kenya. Being in the Diaspora however and meeting so many Africans in similar circumstances, has given me a new sense of community and identity.
All journeys have their purpose and all journeys run their course. Now what’s left, for me, is to physically return. On each visit to Kenya I’m less and less reluctant to leave. I’m trying not to be naive. I know I’ve been away for a long time and that there will be some serious adjusting to do. My business partner (also a Kenyan in the UK) and I are establishing our business, Asilia***, in Kenya as we establish it abroad. We’re working with people and organisations “on the ground” and learning a lot about the differences in markets as preparation.
One thing is and has always been clear to me in these 11 years – there’s no place like home. Other people’s countries will always be other people’s countries. Many people talk about being citizens of the world, while I’ve felt at home in New York and in London to an extent I find that my experiences travelling (or trying to travel) are constant reminders of just where I do belong. More and more, I’m convinced that there’s no place I’d rather be.
To learn more about Lulu and her passion for all things African and creative, visit the following links:
Website 1: www.weareasilia.com
Website 2: ** http://www.afri-love.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/weareasilia
Footnotes:
• Reference to Victoria & Albert Museum “Afropolitan” function: http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/f/afropolitans-24-june-2011
I totally feel this post and agree with it in essence. I also know there’s only one home have. All the best with your business.
Hi Myne – glad it resonated. Thank you!
Wonderful post, Lulu. It brings up a lot of emotions.
In particular is the feeling that, no matter where I go, I am an outsider. I was born and raised in the States, but I always find myself reluctant to claim my homeland as my home. I am a hyphenated American, the face of America that doesn’t come to mind when her name is mentioned. Yet if I went to any other place–any other country–I would still be an outsider, whether my complexion blended in or not.
Like you, I have found that knowledge of self is the only remedy. The stronger I am in my understanding of myself as a person of color, as an African American and ultimately, essentially, as a spiritual being, the less the particulars of physical location matter.
Thank you for writing this.
Lulu, this was beautiful. I think many Africans can relate to the process of ‘coming home to themselves’ while abroad. Being abroad challenges the assumptions you may have had about your country, your people, and your relationship to them.
For many of us who were educated in British schools, aspiring to Western values, it took actually going to the UK to make us conscious – emotionally, socially and politically – of our identity as Africans. I also touch on this in my article, ‘The lost generation’ (http://naimabrobert.co.uk/articles/the-lost-generation/)
Thank you so much for sharing. And, by the way, I love your very Kenyan design aesthetic!
Best wishes for your business and planned relocation
N.
Hi Lulu, I totally understand your experience. I have been in the states for a while and I come home often and each time I am also reluctant to leave. My family does not understand why I cling to Kenya. No matter how much money I have made in the states, I’m happy here with my family. I think we as diasporans should get together and work on improving Kenya. Like you said, other peoples countries will always be theirs. What about ours, who is going to fix it if we cling to already developed countries that are not ours?