Where are you from... really?

Hello there. Just a few thoughts on identity and origin - and what we put after the words “I am…”. A few years ago, I visited Madrid for the first time. After collecting my bag, I was in the car from airport to hotel, looking outside, listening with one ear to the driver’s chatter – my school-day Spanish quickly coming back! – and my eyes taking in the city, roads, buildings, passers-by, monuments. And then it happened: I very clearly felt that in some strange way, the vibe around me was familiar. Long story short, the following few days reinforced this feeling that I had been in Madrid / Spain before. Most of us have experienced ‘déjà vu’ of course, but it’s typically fleeting, like a loop scene out of The Matrix. But this feeling stayed and grew.

As I’m writing this, my memory drifts back to my alma mater, the University of Texas at Austin. I was in my second or third year, and had some electives to choose. So, I signed up for a class called something like ‘Spanish architecture in the New World’. Wow. I loved every minute of it, and now that I think of it, it was again that feeling of familiarity. Not with the topic, but with the architectural style, the organization of space a la classic Spanish… Oh, and a few years later, after graduation, a friend invited me to a flamenco performance, still in Austin, Texas. If memory serves, it was a troupe that regularly performed for the Spanish Crown and… it was jaw-dropping heart-pounding for me. The room was small, to the point that you could hear the breathing of the dancers. Very intimate. And again, the cultural language, the codes of what was happening in front of me, it, well, bounded with my whole being.

Now, I burn in the sun, am of French stock and born & raised in Cote d’Ivoire, Africa. I did not grow up in a particularly Spanish-influenced environment. Like a lot of kids in the French education system, I had to pick up a third language in school – English was the second mandatory one – and when presented with then-available choice of Spanish or German, I went Viva Espa?a. That’s for the little knowledge of the language. So being somewhat scientific about it, the immediate cultural connection does not exist. So why that recurring feeling of deep familiarity with Spanish culture? Is there such a thing as cell-based cultural memory? Dunno. But working on it, as you will see later.

Looking at the news, I find the whole topic of who we think we are worthy of some neurone time. For example, a common question when meeting new people at a party is “where are you from.” Usually, the answer is easy. I am from X or Z geographic position. Since my “Spanish Awakening” though, I have been fascinated by the ramifications of that question, as your origin tends to define your culture, which tends to define your identity – or at least yours and others’ perception of your identity. For example, when I say I am French born in Africa, many people don’t hear the Africa bit (those who do hear ‘South Africa’ for some reason). Instead they default to the Eiffel Tower, Pepe le Pew, fashion, wine and great food; and a beret-wearing dude smoking a Gauloise with a baguette under his arm and smelly cheese in a basket. I do it too. Tell me Norway and I’ll portray you on a Viking drakkar. Brazil and I picture you dancing all day long. Stupid? Yes. Human? Yes. Reality? No, of course. As “On Identity” author, Amin Maalouf says: “Identity cannot be compartmentalized. It cannot be split in halves or thirds, nor have any defined set of boundaries. I do not have several identities, I only have one, made of all the elements that have shaped its unique proportions.”

And speaking of great books, going back to the topic of origin, I recommend Bryan Sykes’ amazing “The Seven Daughters of Eve”. Quoting Amazon: “It is a book that not only presents the story of our evolution in a wholly new light, but also strikes right at the heart of ourselves as individuals and of our sense of identity.” If you ask me, that book should be mandatory reading for human beings in the 21st Century. Yeah, that big. Maybe even bigger. But I digress…   I promised you a long tail to my origin-obsession. A few weeks ago, I ordered a DNA kit… The way I was waiting for the parcel to arrive, you’d think it was my Christmas gift. I tracked it. Received it. Rubbed the inside of my mouth with the cotton swabs, as instructed. Dropped the swabs in individual containers with a liquid inside. Did everything right. And mailed it back. Now, it’s waiting time. Tick, tock, tick, tock, waiting, waiting, waiting for the lab to finally tell me where my DNA is from on this Blue Planet (well I am assuming it is from Earth, hehehe.) Will there be any Iberian peninsula in it? Will know soon now. 

Special treat for #football fans out there: 8 football legends uncover their origins (full disclosure: the DNA company emailed it to me, probably part of their ‘content strategy’. I love it so am sharing it with you. Not making money from it lah. Full stop).

OK, time to conclude… I live in Malaysia since 2010. And had the immense luck to experience the 2018 National Election 1st hand… Wow, what a lesson for our troubled world. A country of great cultural diversity came together at a key moment of its History to say, “we are one, and our values of hospitality, tolerance, dialogue and keeping it real are alive and well”. Nice. One Humanity. As Bob said, “One Love”. So, next time you get asked “where are you from?”, please pause and give a meaningful answer ??.

#peace #onelove #knowyourself

Cyril Durand is a communication strategy consultant, explainer & simplifier, writer, translator and graphic artist. He lives in Kuala Lumpur with his family.