To the American College Student Who Might Have an African Roommate
An Open Letter by Lisa Diiorio
To the American College Student Who Might Have an African Roommate
An Open Letter by Lisa Diiorio
I had been teaching high school in South Africa for nearly a year when I returned for a visit to our family home in Maine. I went to get a haircut in an affluent town. The stylist was friendly; when she learned that I was living in South Africa, she asked, “Do they have bathrooms?” I answered with as much grace as I could and tried to hide my irritation with her ignorance. Yet, when I think that my students, most of whom are about to begin university in the U.S., might face questions like these, I cringe.
Out of my protective desire to see my students’ transition be smoother and because I know well how naïve we Americans can be about Africa, I want to reach out to those of you who may soon have a roommate, floor mate, or classmate from Africa. My hope is that by challenging some common assumptions the mindset that sees they can shift to we.
First let me tell you about my own introduction to Africa. In 2012, my husband and I moved with our two daughters to Johannesburg, South Africa to teach at the African Leadership Academy (ALA). ALA’s mission is to develop the future leaders of the continent. We have students from 44 different African countries, plus gap-year students from the U.S. and Europe. Students are admitted to ALA based on their leadership potential — their potential to be future change agents on the continent — not just their academic ability. Nearly 80% of our students go on to attend U.S. universities. There are remarkable young adults all over Africa, but African Leadership Academy boasts some of the most impressive.
Yet in so many ways African Leadership Academy students are just like you: They have their smartphones, social media, and playlists that include Beyoncé and Kanye; they know the latest about Game of Thrones and House of Cards; they have probably seen Furious 7 and Pitch Perfect 2. And their knowledge is not limited to Hollywood products. One of my advisees from Burundi, a country about the size of Rhode Island, can name more American capital cities than I can. Many are well versed on U.S. politics and chances are they will know more about the upcoming 2016 presidential elections than many Americans.
And, like you, they are crossing the threshold to college carrying both excitement and anxiety. They face new educational challenges and living arrangements. With their imminent move to a new country, however, they face the additional challenge of navigating culture shock, including the everyday (and not terribly worrisome) issues like facing snow for the first time, finding a place to get their hair done, eating our “bland” food, and making sense of our varied accents (yes, we have accents too!).
I worry more deeply about the emotional drain they may experience as they face stereotypes (often derived from media portrayals of Africa from the silver screen and news alike) that consistently portray Africa through a narrow lens of disease, conflict, or poverty. “Do they have bathrooms?” is born of that portrayal and that narrow-mindedness.
In my Writing & Rhetoric class, we discussed cultural transitions. Since many of my ALA students have grown up where the majority of people were also black — Nigeria, Ghana, Uganda, Kenya — American racial consciousness is unknown terrain. Students from North African countries, even though they are not black, face similar confusion about race in America. As such, my students’ questions revolved largely around what they might face as Africans in America: “Will I be defined by my skin color?” “Will I get harassed by the police?” “What if I do not relate to the protests about Ferguson?” “Why do people make racist jokes about watermelons?” “Will I have to explain that even though I speak Arabic I am African?”
With these questions in mind, I asked my students to articulate what they would want their future roommate to know about them as Africans, and these were the top five concerns:
1. Africa is not a country.
Not only is Africa a continent with 54 countries, but it is also larger than China, Europe, and the United States together. As my student Ukairo from Nigeria pointed out, “If you live in the U.S., do you say that you are from North America?” So the first assumption to check is seeing Africa as a country. Want a fun way to learn your African geography? Play Sporcle’s “Can you name the African countries.”
2. Hakuna Matata is not Africa.
While we often equate Africa with The Lion King, Africa is filled with rich geographic, cultural, tribal, religious, and linguistic diversity. As my student Keith from Zimbabwe commented, “Not all Africans dance. Please do not expect me to dance. I do not know how.” In fact, the African continent is home to one billion people. Some are Christians, some are Muslims, some practice traditional religion. Some are dark skinned, some are light skinned, and some Africans are white. It is estimated that as many as 1,500 and 2,000 different languages exist on the continent. Depending on where your roommate is from, her country’s official language will vary. It might be French (Cote D’Ivoire or Senegal); Portuguese (Mozambique or Angola); Kiswahili (Kenya, Tanzania, or Rwanda); Arabic (Morocco and Tunisia) or English (South Africa, Nigeria, or Ghana). But chances are she might speak more than one language. My advisee Lehlabile from South Africa speaks eight of South Africa’s official languages, which puts to shame my English and smattering of Spanish.
3. Most Africans live neither with lions nor in a hut.
The killing of Cecil the lion from Zimbabwe blew up many of our Facebook pages this July, but please don’t assume that all Africans have even seen a lion. Much of the amazing wildlife associated with Africa (rhinos, lions, leopards, cape buffalo, and elephants are the “big five”) can be found in countries in southern and eastern Africa. Asking someone from Nigeria (West Africa) or Morocco (North Africa) about lion poaching is like asking someone in Texas about poaching lobsters in Maine; it’s a complete disconnect. And even if you live in southern Africa, lions and elephants are not just roaming through your backyard. To see wildlife, you have to go on a game drive (aka safari), which is more common for tourists than locals.
And the mud hut imagery? Not the norm! It is more likely that your roommate’s family lives in an apartment if from a city, a house if from a suburban area, or perhaps a shack if from a township or slum. Don’t expect your roommate to show up with a loincloth and a spear. While he may be proud of his cultural identity — the most vibrant day of the year at ALA was when students came dressed in their country’s traditional attire — the majority of African students will be wearing jeans and t-shirts like you.
4. Most Africans have not experienced disease, poverty, or war.
If all you know about Ethiopia is that it once had a terrible famine that does not mean your roommate has experienced it. “I have never starved in my life,” said Harry, my student from Ethiopia. In fact, Harry works out to make sure he keeps his weight down. Most importantly, please — pretty please — avoid the ignorant Ebola comments. This is a horrible disease that had devastating effects on the countries it most severely impacted: Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea. But, again, that is three out of 54 countries, all concentrated in a certain region of West Africa. As for poverty, yes, it does exist in countries throughout Africa, but it is also in our own backyards. If one in five U.S. school-age children are living below the poverty line, then the U.S. could also benefit from a Live Aid concert.
5. Names are personal; make the effort to pronounce one that is hard for you.
You get your roommate assignment and find out that he has the name Zvikomborero. You panic and wonder how are you going to pronounce this name. But that does not mean that you say, “I can’t get your name, how about if I call you Z?” Instead, ask your roommate what he prefers to be called — and if he says Zviko, then you keep trying, and you and your roommate have a good laugh over your tongue twisting. Understand that names can be part of someone’s identity — I certainly feel this way about my Italian last name — and in some cultures they have a special meaning, such as Zvikomborero, which means “blessings” in his Shona language.
These concerns are just a few ways in which you can check some of the subtle messages that Americans frequently absorb about who or what is African. The best guidance comes from my students. Valery, a student from Kenya, offered: “Ask questions … As you get to learn about me, I will do the same about you.” Her words are echoed by her classmate Chebet who adds, “The only thing that will offend me is if you are not willing to know the truth about my identity, culture, and beliefs the same way I am willing to know about yours.”
What Valery and Chebet underscore is the importance of having what we educators refer to as a learning mindset instead of a fixed mindset. In other words, bring questions and curiosity, not assumptions, because there’s a good chance your assumption might be a misconception. Imagine if my hairdresser checked her assumptions and rephrased her curiosity by asking, “What is it like to live in South Africa?”
“What I learned from listening to my students at ALA was my inspiration and practicing what I taught and believe in: the power of one individual to make a difference by using their voice to speak up on issues that matter. That and the seminal concept of the danger of the single story.”
Lisa DiIorio came to ALA with her husband Chris Cheney and their two daughters, Shea and Zoe, in 2012. Lisa taught for a year in the English Department, and then became head of the newly formed Writing & Rhetoric Department.
