friends. how many of us have them?
kindness to all, friendship to few- african proverb
Hence, the title:
As someone who is not wedded to place š, and often finds herself āstarting overā in new communities, friendships can be hard to experience, let alone sustain. You start to realize that the people you left arenāt the same ones you are returning home to. Virtual conversations omit the nuance found in the mundane, as infrequent catch ups start to feel slightly performative. Past you is starting to compete with Present you. What does a vulnerable exchange feel like? How do you meet one another where you are?
Travelling more consistently has strengthened my communication muscleā reminding me that I, too, have a choice over who and how I remain connected with folx. That it takes two to tango. And sometimes the dance does come
to
an
end.
But thatās okay.
Star āļø the lessons, and release the other stuff.
Over the past 5 years, Iāve moved between two continents š[twice], from one U.S. coast to another, and between two cities. Needless to say, my friendship bucket has been leaking. Moreover, finding the rhythm between honoring your newfound needs and recognizing that evolution isnāt limited to just you. Everyone else is also choosing how to show up in the worldā and what does it look like to meet one another at the sweet spot? To accept the changes and realize that like Tupac said, 'āthings will never be the sameā. And there is relief in that epiphany.
As I get older, radical honesty > side-stepping and has offered new opportunities to fully embrace the friends I choose to pour into. Itās also been a compass on how to identify and welcome new friends into my orbit. Remembering that just because America šŗšø is cold, doesnāt mean that the rest of the world has got to freeze š§. There is warmth. And compassion. And community, should you be open to receiving it. This journey has been a constant reminder to trust my instinctual energy and also recognize that we are all human. Our plight is collective and interconnected š§¬.
To offer some perspectiveā last week, I was invited to dinner by a bolt-driver-turned-friend. We clicked because she was the first female driver I had encountered, and trust you me, itās rare in these parts. So when she invited me into her home š”, introduced me to her child, cooked a meal š½ for me, and proceeded to pray over my lifeā I believed there was a true connection. Untilā¦ she asked me for money a day later. I wondered if I missed something š¤·š¾āāļø. A sign that wouldāve prevented the bewilderment on my face as I read her text. Was it all a ploy? Or was she simply a human who needed help? I want to find the good here.
But even with this intention and effort, sometimes it just doesnāt translate. Just when I think Iāve embodied the elements of what it means to be a local I am reminded that I am always other[ed]. Therefore, what I represent will often trump my intention and effort. Because being Black [and gendered] accompanies cultural expectations, while the wazungu1 just get to be. So much so that a noun was concocted to invite them into Kiswahili vocabulary. There is always room for them to exist.
It takes me back to a conversation I once overheard my cousins having about friendships between ālocalsā and āex-patsā when they were stationed in Dakar, Senegal šøš³:
Cousin A: You know, yaāll arenāt real friends?
Cousin B: What do you mean? We are meeting to go fabric shopping on Thursday. Sheās been to the house. Weāve met for lunch before.
Cousin A: Yes, but there will always be limits to how close you can get. And she will always see you as āThe Foreigner/Americanā. You are living in the same country but in two different worlds.
Iām paraphrasing, but you get the point.
There is always a gap. No matter how much you try to fill it by complete submersion š. You are always an outlier. Living in the liminal.
This weekend, I re-watched Best Man Holiday and listened to Destinyās Childās Survivor album on repeat [specifically āOutro DC-3 Thank Youā]. They donāt make them like they used to š¶. Friendships, that is. Without doing an entire recap about Best Man Holiday [2013], the film is a follow-up to The Best Man [1999] which centers the reunion of college friends who havenāt seen one another in 15 years, exposing the challenges, and drama that resurface. However, what most captivated my attention was the fact that these folx have sustained a connection for this long. How do you make room for new growf š± whilst simultaneously acknowledging the challenges that come with holding space for yourself?2 This doesnāt include balancing your professional life, personal commitments, etc. I am in awe that despite the numerous interpersonal hiccups and betrayals, this group of friends still stanned3 for one another when it mattered the most.
And then thereās Destinyās Child and that outro. They literally spent 4 minutes and 3 seconds fangirling one another. The ultimate lesson in expressing friendship gratitude. DC3 forever frfr. Iām not sure they make this brand of sisterhood anymore either. Blaque? 702? 3LW? Cleopatra? Spice Girls? An entire era dedicated to girl power [and 90% cacao!]. Sister-friends like these are special. And I am grateFULL for them.
Last week was overflowing with conversations š£ with friends from different chapters of my life, and it was an extraordinary gift to receive. The reminder that no matter how physically or emotionally distant you are, your people will always find you. They will always circle back. Especially when you need one another the most. Iām grateFULL for all of the friends that have shown up for me over the last few years. From those who have served as a sounding board for my ideating, helped me pack/move, co-foodied with me through new cities/countries, unknowingly sent affirmations of encouragement, coached me through uncomfortable āadultingā moments, hosted me when I needed a solo-cation, made me a meal, let me play with their kid[s] or pet[s], danced with me, were actively listening, shared new recipes, dissected reality tv with me, sent just-checking-in-texts, meditations, love-filled voice notes, late-night prayers, or early morning melodies; you are appreciated š¤.
And Iām grateFULL to you, for reading.
May your friendship cup always runneth over [with quality over quantity āØ],
n
translates to white people // mzungu [singular]
this is a real question. DM me with your tips and tricks, tafadhali [please] šš¾