In which I come to a realization during an activity meant for middle schoolers

It was the fourth day of my second camp this summer, and my friend, Kelly, was leading a session in which the girls were writing a “Where I’m from” poem. One of those poems that come with prompts to fill in the blank. One of those poems I distinctly remember filling out in third grade. 

As I sat listening to her presentation and trying to cultivate the creative thinking of the members of my team, I thought about how much my responses to those prompts have changed since the last time I filled out of of these poems. How much even my responses would be different if I had filled out one of these poems 15 months ago. 

So, I filled it out:

I come from portable hard drives, Beninoise beers and the MOOV network.

I come from orange dirt that never leaves your clothes, roads that are sometimes more dirt than road and heat waves that make you sweat when you’re sitting still.

I come from yams and moringa.

I come from morning Nescafe and omelet sandwiches and sticking out in a crowd and the Collines, the Borgou and the Attacora.

I come from a high capacity for feeling awkward and hair that everyone wants.

From “This will be the hardest thing you ever do” and “The time will fly by.”

I come from the religion of hamburgers, pizza and Velveeta cheese.

From Porto Novo and pate blanche and sauce tomate.

From landing at the Cotonou airport at 9:45 p.m., sweating while 57 people sort through their luggage, wondering what the heck you just decided to do and feet that will always be dirty.

I come from workstations, buvettes and 6-hour taxi rides.