This archive report was first published on 18 August 2019.
As I navigate through daily life in Kenya, I'm often met with a question that leaves me puzzled: 'What tribe are you from?' The assumption is that my name, Nerima, is a giveaway, but the truth is, it's a name that sparks confusion and curiosity.
People from Busia immediately recognize my name as being from their region and try to communicate with me in Luhya, only to be shocked when I don't understand. The reaction is often one of disappointment and even ridicule, with some even suggesting that I'm a 'disgrace' for not speaking my 'own language.'
But what does it mean to be from a particular tribe? Is it solely defined by language? I've come to realize that our politics, social events, and even humor are often tied to our tribal identities. Our leaders speak in vernacular languages at funerals and important gatherings, and our social events often feature humor that reinforces stereotypes.
However, I've also noticed a growing trend among young people to opt for names that keep their identity ambiguous. Is this a conscious decision to avoid the weight of tribe, or is it a reflection of a deeper desire to break free from the constraints of our cultural heritage?
As I reflect on my own identity, I'm reminded that I belong to a bigger circle of humanity. But the question remains: are we teaching our children to view people based on stereotypes, and how does this affect our relationships and decision-making?
It's an interesting time we're living in, and one that requires us to re-examine our assumptions and biases. By doing so, we may just discover that the fables that keep us apart are nothing more than a product of our own making.
Nerima Wako-Ojiwa is the executive director of Siasa Place. You can follow her on Twitter at @NerimaW.
