Are You My Ancestor?

Warning: the following post gets a little deep. If you'd rather continue onto the next day of my journey click here for Fort Kochi Part 5: Yes, It Is Actually Called Jewtown.

I've never really given all that much thought to my heritage before this trip, largely, I think, because my family just doesn't know that much about our history and as far as I can tell, doesn't seem to care that much either. I've sometimes wondered about it, yes, but it's generally a passing wonder that's satisfied by a quick five minutes of googling Guyana's history, which is then quickly derailed by the inevitable new question that pops into my head and needs an immediate answer from the internet. I haven't been back to Guyana since I was old enough to care about what Guyana means to me personally. I really wanted to go with my parents this summer but things came up and we weren't able to make the trip. I was surprised at how sad I was that we weren't going to be able to go. The older I've gotten, the more I really wish I knew more about where I come from. It's important! It's important to know these things. I don't really know why it's important or why I've started to think more about this recently, but I just know that it's important.

Nope, I'm just a lazy, Albino dog who on occasion enjoys chasing after his own ears.

Being here in India is another chance to learn about my history. But being here has been frustrating. All day today in Kerala, and really all throughout India I've found myself trying to find... me, or at least people that look like me, in the people I've seen. The thing is... no one anywhere looks like me. At least not to me, they don't. In every place in India I've gone to, I've asked people where I look like I'm from, and about 80% of the time I hear "South India" or specifically "Kerala." Occasionally, I hear "North India" or "Bihar" (a state in North India), but universally, people are confident in their opinion. How can this be so clear to Indians but so hard to see myself? I've sort of been like the baby bird in P.D. Eastman's Are You My Mother? throughout this trip, who wanders around asking that title question to an assortment of animals and machines that are clearly not his mother.

Most of the time when people ask where I'm from, my answer basically details all of the ways I'm not from India. But the reality is Guyana was just a blip on the radar of my family history. Obviously, recency has a disproportionate impact on the present, but at the end of the day, (in all likelihood) my family has been in India for a zillion generations. Zillion being an exact figure. (Prior to that, we're all actually from Africa. If you didn't know that before, now you do. You're welcome.) So really, I am Indian.

The real reason being here has been frustrating is that I don't know how much I should be identifying with the culture I see. In any given part of the country, I always has the question in the back of my mind "are these my people or are they from a culture to which I have zero connection?" This has been particularly true in Kerala, where I'm supposedly from. I mean... did you see that Kathakali show?! It's... well, it's certainly unique. But is it part of what makes me, me? Am I supposed to look at this show with awe and reverence or with a sentiment of "...this is ridiculous." Maybe both, why choose? Yes, I am Indian. But India is so far removed from what makes me, me, that maybe it's not that important after all. I guess it's just one of those nice-to-knows, like how old the universe is. Or do I own a copy of The Italian Job? I don't want to watch it, it's just nice to know if I have the option.

CONTINUE ON to Fort Kochi Part 5: Yes, It Is Actually Called Jewtown