Many, many times, people have said to me 'Ah, you're from Morocco - I've been to Marrakesh and to Casablanca.' They're shocked when I say that I haven't been to either of these places. People often contact me for travel tips for these Moroccan cities and many others that I haven't been to like Agadir, Tetouan and Tangier. I usually do the good thing and refer them on to a friend who has been, or ask my folks for tips that I can pass on. It's the equivalent of people asking me for travel tips on going to Bristol from Norwich where I also haven't been to (and is around 240 miles way, except Marrakesh is more than 750 km from where my extended family reside).
I can't blame people for asking me for travel tips however - even I have asked my other Third Culture Kid cousins for travel tips on the countries they are from. It just seems like a natural way 'in' to a country you're not familiar with and it's a natural part of networking.
However, it got me thinking about being the all-knowing authority on the country where you're from, but have never lived in. There are things that people think you should know because your parents are from a particular country, like it's history, politics, language, food and religion. Thankfully, now that we have the internet, looking up any of these topics is easy. But back in the 80s when I was a child and into the 90s and 2000s even, finding the answers to these commanly asked questions was a lot harder.
Something that my siblings and I have struggled with is the assumption that we know the language spoken by our Berber family. When I tell people that I come from Morocco they immediately ask me if I speak Arabic. I reply that my family weren't of Arab descent, but from a disparate community called the Berbers and that the local language is Tamazight. Both of my parents families also live near Melilla, an autonomous city of Spain in Morocco so they spoke a smattering of Spanish as well. The country was also colonised by France, so French is widely spoken too, and of course, Arabic is widely taught in schools and in Mosques.
When my mother came to England, my father, who had already lived in England for many years, taught my mother English. She was learning English whilst I was a toddler, so we learned together. I was able to read English before I even started school and was in the top of my class when I began. I'll always feel blessed for having such forward thinking parents who see the value in education and the freedom that comes with being able to communicate clearly.
At home, I mostly conversed with my parents in English - as they were still learning too and we just found it easier really. There weren't any other Moroccan communities to communicate with at the time, and there isn't really any now. My parents often spoke to each other in Tamazight, and sometimes I'd participate and I'd usually be able to follow their conversations without any problems at all. I went to playschool when I was three, and would talk to the kids in the sand pit in Tamazight, who would have just looked at me in the dumbfounded way that toddlers often do. Now I have a basic understanding of the Moroccan language without actively participating in any deep and meaningful conversations when I go back - just day to day pleasantries. A friend of a friend I spoke to once called it 'passive speaking' - when you've had a lot of exposure to another language without having full command of it. Being brought up bilingual to a degree, helped me pick up languages like French and Spanish much easier though and a high school teacher dubbed me as naturally linguistic, which can't be bad at all!
My sister spoke to me the other day about some of the above issues. She had recently been on holiday to Prague and had spoken to a group of travellers. They spoke to her about where she was from and when she replied from Morocco and that she didn't speak Arabic, they looked at her in disgust. It led me to consider that as people growing up from multifaceted communities we don't naturally fall into any defined group and when you challenge people's preconceptions about you, this can disgruntle them in some way.
When this happens, one must develop a philosophical view on these issues and turn things into a positive. As individuals of the second generations, we are creating new identities for ourselves. It doesn't make us any better or any worse off than anyone else. I can't speak for everyone of course, but for me, growing up in the UK, we very often have a blessing in that we can choose which options we like best and which direction we can choose to go in. It's not always easy but we need to remember the power of choice that we have and make the best out of where we're from. It made me think about my favourite quote by Walt Whitman: "Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, healthy, free, the world before me, the long brown path leading wherever I choose." Being an adult second generation individual can throw up an array of pathways. Where we choose to travel and which language we choose to speak in along the way, is ultimately down to us, and I'm grateful for that.
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