I call myself a fruit salad & here is why. My mom is Malaysian, my dad Tanzanian, which makes me a Tanzanian of course. Oh and I've live in Swaziland, and married to a Swazi which now makes me Swazi. Ohh yah and my parents currently live in Lesotho & that is purely for work purposes. I hope that wasn't too confusing. Of course when people hear about my parents, the next question always is, "where did they meet????", well, that is a story for another day............ My parents moved to Swaziland in 1994 as they both got employed in Swaziland, and moved to Lesotho in 2006 to date.
To many I can pass off as a Swazi, especially because I speak the language. Others of course would normally question first on where I come from, either because of my facial features or when they hear my first name, or when they notice my long hair or whatever else. Of course me saying i'm from Tanzania wouldn't quite give you a complete answer but unless you dig further I normally wouldn't volunteer the information that my mom is from Malaysia. My hair normally gives it away, but most of the time it is tied up so many don't figure out that I have quite long hair. The few smart ones of course always ask when they see my hair on where I come from, & again, the answer "I am Tanzanian or Swazi" would normally not answer that question to the fullest, & again, if you don't ask me where my mom is from, I would not volunteer that information. Oh yah and for those who assume i'm a Swazi, the minute I have to mention my name "Nyakwesi", the eyebrows quickly get raised coz this obviously then begs the question.... "Where are you from"?? & that would be the kindest response to my name by the way, others would normally have the guts of actually laughing and asking ridiculous questions like "what kind of name is that"?, which I always find offensive, yes it is an unusual name, but it is my name all the same, hence you ought to treat another human being with respect. U wd think I wd b used to this by now given I have endured this for the longest time, especially having to live in foreign land. People can be plain disrespectful, I always associate it with not being exposed to people from other countries. While I do realize that my name is unusual/ unique, you ought to be able to hide the ridicule on your face and save it for when I have moved from your face.
Ok so back to my fruit salad story, so i've 2 sisters, n I am the one who can pass off as an African the most, the others do look more on the Indianish side or Asian side. I only look coloured or mixed race or whatever you want to call it, after one finds out that my mom is from Malaysia, or after one finds out who i'm sisters with. Without having heard that little piece of information, I can pass off as a Swazi. Off course I am a Swazi now by marriage, but lets face it, Swazi or not, the minute I have to mention my name to a stranger, often it has to be followed by an explanation on which part of Swaziland that name comes from. Back in secondary school when I started my Form 1 boarding school, it took less than an hour for the whole school to know that there was this Tanzanian who has joined the school. I suppose by now I should be used to always be "the different one". In primary, we attended an english medium school and the school had predominantly Arab and Indian students and there my mom was referred to as Chinese, so we were these kind of Chinese kids. In high school I joined another school and now I could speak Siswati, I got to experience new people altogether, of course my name immediately implied I wasn't Swazi, and to some very unsmart people, the assumption quickly becomes that I cannot speak the language, and of course if you would speak to me in English I would respond in English, imagine those who would then quickly gossip about me in siswati assuming I could not understand. Ah yes, being a foreigner can be quite an experience.
Often I have to travel to either Tanzania or Malaysia, and in either country we always look like foreigners. Some 2 years back on travel to Northern Tanzania to visit the memorial sight for the late Mwalimu Nyerere, we were required to pay a fee on entrance. There was a different fee for locals and a different fee for foreigners of course the fee for foreigners was very steep. It was me, my mom, dad, my husband and my sister. The Tanzanians here were my sister, myself, my mom & dad. But their quick concern of course was my mom, who is evidently not Tanzanian, then myself & my sister, at no point did they even suspect my husband to be the foreigner. My dad quickly told them that the "Chinese" woman is his wife, which then cleared her, then quickly declared that we were his kids. My husband who does not speak Kiswahili kept quiet and went with the flow, do remember that if he would have had to respond, they would have quickly known that he wasn't Tanzanian. So we all paid the fee for local people, which should tell you that "assumption is the mother of all.........." according to one famous movie.
Ah & then another interesting observation, some people only befriend you after hearing that you have some Asian blood in u, I know it sounds strange, but ya, you get to experience people who are only interested in being associated with you because of the fruit salad effect. To their disappointment i'm sure it is always sad to find out that I actually was born & raised African and don't quite conform to common expected tendencies. I thank my parents for the way they brought me up because i've never found myself having to bow to peer pressure, i'm quite happy the way I am....... If you are my friend u should be able to understand this.One thing I always find offensive though is the fact that you would claim to know me or even be my friend and not know my background, yes i've had a few of those... Some time I would be walking with my mom & I wd have to answer to someone on who she is supposed to be n what our relationship is, and then u claim to know me.
On another note, it appears our kids will become another generation of salads of course, i'm imagining my niece, nephew n my son one day saying, my mom is Tanzanian, my dad is Swazi, but my grandmother is Malaysian, hhe hhe hhe hhe. Anyway, speaking of which, my niece one day had to do a composition at school about her family. The teacher in question knows my sister (niece's mother), I suppose she assumed my sister is either Indian or Swazi since she goes by her marital surname...... So my niece narrates that her mother is Tanzanian, then teacher gets confused, your mother is Tanzanian, how???? Remember my sister looks more Indianish and now the teacher hears that she is actually Tanzanian, then my niece goes on, my mother is from Tanzania, she is a Keregero because my mkhulu (grandfather) is Tanzanian, also a Keregero lol lol lol, teacher gets even more confused, and niece goes on, my gogo (grandmother) is Malaysian..... At this point I believe the teacher requested that my niece brings her mother to school so she could verify this movie-like story with her mother......I found this to be toooo hilarious. Ah yes, fruit salad it is.......
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