Africa's Red Soil Calls Them Home

“When the root is strong; the fruit is sweet”

These words of Bob Marley have driven my parenting since I became mum to three mixed race children. I knew I had a challenge on my hands to keep them in touch with their African roots and a love for their traditions and heritage. I did not want them to be void of a connection to their family background and legacy despite the fact that they were being raised on the other side of the world in the predominately ‘white’ society of Australia.

As a Social Worker, I was very much aware of the detrimental consequences of children who are raised with no sensitivities for their culture. I refused to let that happen to my kids and made it my life’s mission to support them to embrace the ‘other’ side of themselves to understand the meaning of where they come from.

So, as they grew up, consistent efforts were made to stay in touch with their family, living in a small remote village named Okpo in Biafra Land, Eastern Nigeria. When one of their uncles from the town visited the village, they would lend their phone and walk with Mama and Papa to the top of a hill (because the phone net-work in the village was sketchy) to act as interpreter so that the children could speak to their grandparents. This arrangement worked in keeping them connected for years. My children developed a strong love for their grandparents through these phone calls and the uncles that made the relationship possible.

Last year we sent a new phone to Papa and the children were bursting with happiness to see his pleasure when he saw them for the first time via facetime. Seeing each other’s smiles and recognising their own DNA in the other’s faces cemented the bond in a way that words never could. It was after this conversation that my thirteen-year-old son demanded that I take him to Nigeria to stay in the village with his family.

I’ve always believed that my children knowing their roots was one of my most important roles as a mother. I have raised them to see the beauty of being diverse and being able to embrace other ways of being. When my children openly expressed the need to connect to their African family, I felt an immense joy fill me, a pride that they were embracing their ancestries. I also know the wholeness they would experience once they physically tied to their family on their ancestral land.

As a white woman travelling in Nigeria with three mixed raced teenagers I felt like a lone explorer getting a peek at the raw edges of the world. While my children were already seasoned backpack travellers, nothing prepared them for the culture shock of Nigeria. It definitely took them beyond their confront zones and taught them that they have to be stronger than their excuses.

Nigeria is dynamic, chaotic and there are certainly dangers. But there is culture, diversity, history and an in-your-face spirit of endurance despite the harsh environment. What was very recognisable was that every person that we met was warm and friendly and many locals acted in extraordinary generous ways to assist us on our journey to the East of the country safely.

Surrounded by love, life in the village was a place so utterly different to home in Australia, but so remarkably familiar. Unless there was somewhere to go then no-one knew the time, there was no electricity, no running water, no shops and no rubbish. The simplicity of a modest life reinforces that things are the way that we see them. It’s not where you are or what you are doing that makes you happy, it’s how you chose to feel about it. Connecting with their family allowed the kids to come to know that deep inside themselves is the unique spark of who they are. It’s nothing to do with the brands they wear or the ‘likes’ they get on Instagram.

The most powerful experience of the trip were the last emotional moments before we left the village. The grandparents took handfuls of the red soil and poured the soil into the children’s hands. They chanted incantations, reminding them that they are part of the land of Africa. They prayed that they remember who they are and where they are from, and if they remember then they will always be strong. Holding the red soil tight in their hands, they were reminded that they take the connection with their ancestral land where ever they go. And the red soil will always call them home to the people who love them.