Kiskisitotaso (Don't Forget About Who You Are)

Home. I’m familiar with that word. Normally when I first heard that word, I was like, obviously home is house. Right? But then, one day in class, we were learning the meaning of home. So, I was like we already knew its house. Our teacher explained that home isn’t just a house, it can be anything! It can be somewhere you love, have memories, live all your life, and more! So, when I learnt that, I was like oh. What does home mean to me? I thought and thought and thought. Still, nothing came to mind. I literally thought my head was going to EXPLODE! But, luckily, it didn’t. After thinking for a while, I said … My home is Canada! Well, a lot of people had the same Idea, but in their actual culture. My culture is Canadian, but my parents are from Kongo. My parents had me in Canada, so I’m basically Canadian. In grade 3 or 4, a girl asked me where I was from, and I responded with a guess. She guessed and guessed until she gave up. I told her I was from Canada, and she said I wasn’t, like what do you mean I’m not??? I told her I was and she told me I wasn’t. So, I asked her how, so she said where my parents were from, and I told her Kongo. She asked me if I ate their kind of food, and I said yeah. She said so many things about their culture, and I was responding with yes. After that I was speechless. So, since that day I thought I was Kongolese. But now I realize I’m nothing Congolese. I can’t even speak it. My home is in Canada, where I belong.