Kenyan | Dutch
My Mum is from Kenya and my Dad is from the Netherlands. They met when my Dad moved to Kenya for work. It maybe helps to mention that I am half Kenyan however, I lived in both Tanzania and Kenya (Tanzania longer than Kenya). So I feel as though both places are home for me. I grew up in a household where I was introduced to a mixture of languages. My Dad spoke to me in Dutch and my Mum spoke to me in Swahili at first. My Mum then switched to English as my parents felt it was essential for me to learn it. My parents also made sure they exposed me to both cultures. We would always visit my Grandmas from both sides and that way I had a clear idea of how things worked culturally on both sides. So from a young age I already understood how western countries were in comparison to Kenya and Tanzania (these are the two countries I lived in for a great deal of my life). In terms of music, we always listened to African based music. My Dad had already lived in different countries across Africa before he met my Mum, so he always played what he had heard to us. I would say that I don't cry often. Where I grew up, it was not really encouraged for men to cry.
I would say that the most recent challenge I faced happened just before the pandemic. I had just moved from Tanzania to the Netherlands to study and also try out my chances with a football career in Europe. Things weren’t looking promising at one point with both the course I was doing and football. I had to sit down and think about what I wanted. As I questioned everything, I started to realise that, to a certain extent, I was sort of disadvantaged when it came to the way things worked in this world. I began to fully grasp and understand the ‘West is the best’ concept. I realised that I was ‘behind’ the Dutch footballers of my age category simply because I grew up in east Africa. I looked at their attitude toward training and compared it to mine, there was no difference. In fact I even felt as though I was more determined. Also I knew I put in the same amount of hours as they did when I was in Tanzania but it still didn’t seem like it was enough. I realised then that the way we played in Tanzania was not ‘good enough’ for Dutch standards. In my head I did not agree to this. It was simply that we played differently and this was considered bad. And I then realised that we as Africans followed that narrative set up by the West. At the end of the day I overcame my struggles with my course and football by accepting the state of things and working with what I have. Taking up spirituality also helped me to accept things the way that they were. Out of that hurdle a new purpose was born. I became really passionate about decolonising narratives that many of us have when it comes to the West in relation to ‘developing countries’.
When I go back home to Kenya or Tanzania, I usually try to hide my White side as much as possible. This is something I started to do in my late teenage years as I started to become more aware of my identity and place in society. It was around this time (in Tanzania) that I would leave the perimeters of my home to go out and play football or do my own shopping. Before this, I was usually always enclosed in international/multicultural communities. I was always at an international school and for the longest time I only had friends from those schools. So if I left the house it would be to go see them at their house or at the movies. So as I got older and began to venture out onto the streets, I began to notice more and more that people would refer to me as 'mzungu' which means White person in Swahili. I always knew I was different, I always knew that I was mixed-race but I had never thought of myself as a White person. I didn't like it because everywhere I went the price of things either went up or I would feel that my presence was very blatant. I always felt observed. Even when we had football games on the streets the spectators always had a comment about the mzungu on the field. I wanted to fit in. I felt that I was Tanzanian (even though I looked different), so I wanted to do anything that was possible to fit in. I began hiding my Whiteness. I then made sure I dressed similarly to my teammates, spoke Swahili the way they spoke it and took the bus home like them. I now look back and slightly understand why I was treated differently. My habits weren't similar to my teammates' habits, growing up in a closed international expatriate community made me quit Western to a certain extent. However, I also feel like many Kenyans and Tanzanians don't view mixed-race people as one of their own which I find unfortunate.
When I moved to the Netherlands to study, there were occasions where I now had to hide my Blackness. I noticed that it was harder to apply for housing because of my first name so I would have to use my second name (which is a Dutch name) to apply for housing. I also noticed that even though I could speak Dutch, from my accent you can sometimes tell that I did not grow up in the Netherlands. So when I am applying for jobs I always have to alter my accent a bit to hide traces of another accent.
I have quite a few role models, however, one that stands out is Sho Madjozi. She's a mixed-race (Black and White) artist from Limpopo, South Africa. I admire her because she has always shown me that it is possible to be mixed-race and be considered African. From how I see it, she is accepted by South Africans as one of her own. I also like how she exposes Limpopo culture in her music.
From living in the Netherlands and now understanding Dutch people, I have learnt that racial inequality quite often stems from the prevalence of single narratives. For instance, the idea that one way of life is correct and the other is wrong. This is a concept that I believe fuels a lot of racial inequality. I feel like we need to learn to appreciate differences and not look down on them. I also truly believe that capitalism promotes the idea of conforming to a single narrative. Therefore, I believe that rethinking the way we run our economies in relation to one another can also lead to less racial inequality (I know it's a far fetched thought but I think of this often).
I guess the positives are that regardless of the situation I always feel different and sometimes it is nice to feel different. I also quite like the fact that I can switch between identities. Not that either identity will ever fully view me as one of their own, but I am able to switch, converse and relate to both sides. Even though it is a positive, the challenge is that you will always be different. You will always stand out. So it is sometimes hard to feel a sense of belonging. I know there are a lot of mixed-race people (Black and White) but it's not like there is a place where you can go and be with mixed-race people. And even though there were, I often find that we can relate in terms of general struggles but not on a cultural level.
When I was younger I thought I was White and Black, I felt I was both of them. However, these days I feel like I am not White, nor am I Black. I am none of them, I am mixed-race. This shift in philosophy is simply because of how I have been treated, I have now realised that it is hard and possibly impossible to be fully accepted by either side. There was a time where I identified more as Black. This was when I moved to the Netherlands for university. Here I was constantly reminded that I was Black by White people. Also, my mannerisms made me more prone to being in the company of Black people, some of which viewed me as Black. Then when I would go back home to Tanzania or Kenya I was White again. This was confusing. I also then realised that it wouldn't be fair to call myself Black because I was aware that I don't always face the same struggles as Black people due to my skin colour. That is when I stopped identifying as Black. However, I do feel like I am an African before I am anything else. I definitely don't feel as though there is a lack of representation of old traditional ways of the past in Tanzanian but mainly Kenyan media. There is so much emphasis on being like Western countries that tradition is sometimes disregarded or looked at as less important. Something that I will always carry with me is East African respect and hospitality. To be kind to others, to respect elders, to be open to lending a helping hand and feeding your guests. These are things that I feel the west lacks and that I cling on to dearly while I am here.
The pandemic actually allowed me to make positive changes in my life. I had to endure the lockdowns on my own which made me stronger as an individual. I managed to look into myself and understand myself better.
I advertise my blog through a Twitter page, ‘Decolonise with Ndwiga’. Or @Decolonise_w_N