I AM AN AFRICAN AMERICAN person who was born and raised in Indianapolis. My mother was born in Arkansas and my father was born in Kentucky. Their parents were also born in the U.S. I never knew my ancestors from Africa, and in my family, we never spoke of them. My sense of self was completely westernized through an intergenerational imposition of American cultural identity. I was also sheltered and provincial growing up, so much so that I don’t remember ever meeting anyone from Africa.
During my last year of college, I was consistently and soundly sleeping through my Black history class (of all classes!) until the professor (a white man) startled me by slamming his hand on the desk I had made my pillow. He told me I could no longer sleep in his class and I should see him in his office. I was embarrassed and ashamed. When I was in his office, he told me I needed to see the world, and recommended I go to Africa with Operation Crossroads Africa, a cross-cultural exchange program. I followed his advice and went to Zimbabwe.
While in Zimbabwe, walking with Zimbabweans, I encountered people who greeted me with the traditional salutation in the Shona language: “Mhoro, wakaadii” (“Hello, how are you?”) and “Ndapora kana wapora” (“I am well if you are well”). It was a salutation, which meant, in essence, that their state of being was conditioned by my state of being.
It was like a koan. My discursiveness was stopped; I was confused. Then I felt the joy that comes from feeling connected. I learned later that the expression comes from, a philosophy that means “I am because you are” or “We are because of each other.” Ubuntu is found throughout many African countries especially, but not exclusively, Southern African countries. According to my former professor, Carolyn Akua McCrary, who teaches at Interdenominational Theological Center in Atlanta, a historically Black institution, ubuntu is also a part of the African American mindset, even if we don’t always recognize it.
