America

Written on 1/21/15

One of my favorite things about living in Lesotho is having the opportunity to bash the belief that “American” means “white”. Yes it’s crazy that black people came from Africa and now, hundreds of years later, the only media* that people receive besides hip hop (my host brother Tsepong loves Lil Wayne) are images of rich, white, America*. Which, as we all know, is a teeny percentage of the whole. And, the vast majority of people who join the Peace Corps are white. So, it’s really no surprise that people have this perception, however warped it is.

It can be kind of exhausting to repeatedly have this conversation, but today I was just chillin’ with my friend Khotso, waiting for my phone to charge in his shop, when we began to talk about race (I dream of the day when I’ll be able to have these kinds of conversations in Sesotho). At one point he asked me, “do you have people who look like me in America?”, pulling up his beenie to tug at the locks hidden beneath and pointing at his coffee bean complexion. “Yeah!”, I replied. “In America we have everyone.” “Wow!”, he exclaimed. “I thought if I come to America people would be like wow. Would be surprised”. To make my point simpler, I didn’t go into the inns and outs of American geography and how people in some places might indeed react that way. Instead, I simply replied, “where I’m from, lots of people look like you. In fact, Philadelphia has more black people than white people.”

And then I realized that if he thought all Americans were white, he may not know about the Transatlantic Slave Trade. So I gave him the cliff notes version, ending with, “and that’s why there are black people in America.” After that, the concept seemed to make more sense to him.

Earlier in this conversation, he emphatically said that he could never do what I’m doing, could never leave his home and live somewhere else. That he would miss his mom and his friends and his brothers and sisters too much. So, Khotso will probably never see America. And that’s fine. Many Americans I’ve met could never dream of living in another country for two years. The point is just that his lens of understanding was opened a little bit wider, just as my understanding of Lesotho grows every day. And that, truly, is the most sustainable effect of being a Peace Corps volunteer. The students I teach may or may not speak better English by the time I leave. St. Dennis will largely remain the same for years after I leave. But it is these types of conversations that stick, that make my time here here feel valuable and important to me.

Also, Basotho love America and Americans. I don’t know how many times a day I hear something along the lines of “U tsoa America? (You are from America)! I love you” (or just the I love you, which always throws me off), from complete strangers. So, at least when I talk frankly with people they can learn (although some don’t believe) that America is just as hard as it is wonderful, as oppressive as it is beautiful. That it’s just a place like any other. And yes, that people with a coffee bean complexion and dredlocks live there too.

*Just as Africa receives warped and monochromatic images of America, the U.S. pretty much only receives warped images of Africa splayed with violence, disease and starvation. Darling readers, remember that. And remind your loved ones of that the next time someone anxiously mentions Ebola or what have you.

*Before coming here, I was insistent upon being correct and saying “the United States” as opposed to “America”. But here, America is the U.S. and so that’s what I call it. There’s really no point in correcting people.

Khotso and much love.