Mum, what is a tribe?

…is the question my daughter keeps asking me. And I am lacking fitting words to explain to this young Kenyan. That we have lived away from Kenya for a couple of years, means that our mother tongue is nearly abandoned. Which I at times feel ashamed about. In essence my children are Kenyan, and all three were born in Kenya.

The issue of tribe did not arise, even when we lived in Kenya. Much as we might have spoken to our children in Kikuyu at home, our efforts at reinforcing it as the language of choice were thwarted by many other forces: The househelps who helped me raise my kids did not speak Kikuyu, including those who themselves were Kikuyu. The neighbours’ children did not speak Kikuyu. When my first born daughter begun schooling, English was reinforced as the language to adopt.

Living away from Kenya has not helped matters at all. Since my husband and I met in academic circles, our conversations were naturally in English. For some interesting reason, when we moved from Kenya, we switched to Swahili and Kikuyu. (This may have began as a form of privately consulting amongst ourselves while in the company of non-Kenyans) From  our conversations, our children have picked up a few more words of their native language. When I am completely infuriated by any of my kids, (kids have a unique ability to make their otherwise loving mothers feel that way!) I am known to throw at them successive sentences in pure Kikuyu, which usually ends well because they end up laughing, since they did not catch a thing I said!  Other than that, English and a little Swahili have been our spoken languages at home. I dare not mention that my children currently learn and converse in German!

Come elections 2007, and we could not tear ourselves away from Kenyans news, in whatever form, Aljazeera, CNN, BBC, NTV, the blogs and so on. Which was all good until chaos rocked and there was bound to be a top Kenyan item on every news, include FM radio stations in Switzerland that only broadcast in German! Naturally, the sad news of what is happening to Kenya was not lost to our children, including our youngest who is just over 5 years old. These 3  inquisitive beings will not leave me alone. “Mum, why are they fighting?”, “mum why are the police shooting at people?”, “mum why are they being mean to the kids?” Ad infinitum!

Eventually, I was faced with the grand question,  ”mum, what is a tribe”? For people who have never distinguished one Kenyan from another, I sound horribly unconvincing when I explain, ” You see, Kenya has 42 tribes. Catherine’s mum is a different tribe from us, and her dad is a different tribe from her mum” Some more probing, ” so mum, then what is a tribe?” I roll my eyes a little, ” Ok, we speak a different language from Catherine’s mum and she speaks a different language from her husband.” Unsatisfied, “Then mum, what tribe is Kibaki?”  “He is a kikuyu like us and Raila is a luo” I offer,  holding my breath, this might never end. “So why are people fighting”? What fair answer do you give a 10 year old when you are asked that question. People, remind me again, what is the reason we are fighting?

Nothing makes sence, even to me. In Switzerland, black people are very scarse. When my husband stumbles upon a black face at work, it is newsworthy in our home. And even though we don’t always say hallo to all black people we meet, there is always a slight nod of acknowledgement, as though we are silently saying that we belong. A few times we have broken into a conversation with strangers, simply because they were black, like us! For my eldest daughter, it was a relief to find a black girl in her class, just for the sake of association. Meeting fellow Kenyans, feels like meeting your cousins, aunts and uncles. The question of what tribe one belongs to is seldom an issue. Or perhaps, that just goes for me…

I suppose the reason my daughter has difficulty understanding the tribe issue is that when she looks at the Kenyans around us, they are no different from us. If anything, they are very much like us. They eat the same food we eat, wear similar clothes like we do, and there are no pysically distinguishing marks that differentiate one tribe from another. What does not make sense is when I begin redefining every Kenyan she knows of, for her to classify according to tribe! Bizzarre!

It saddens me beyond limit, that we Kenyans, are trying so hard to trace faded lines which to the upcoming generations, do not exist! We are Kenyans, beyond that, even I will need an education.