African-American Daughter of the Moon - WANGO'O

In one of the most unexpected experiences of my journey here I received my Acholi name.
For some time, I had been hoping to receive a name. Friends who’ve traveled here before me already had their names and used them quite frequently. I was beginning to become jealous.

For one, I found that my name “Jayanni” is not only difficult to pronounce back home, but it’s very difficult for Ugandans to pronounce, spell and remember. I dread greetings because even Erin and Lindsay’s names present a challenge for people. You can guess what happens when I say “Hello, I’m Jayanni!” …

But about that unexpected experience: One word. WANG'OO. Wang’oo is the traditional practice of story-telling by fire for the Acholi. Its significance and use, however, goes beyond that. It is used for counseling, marriage and funeral arrangements, teaching (especially for the youth) and learning of gender roles (just to name a few) … But because of the war it was largely discontinued- and for some, destroyed.

We were invited to sit in on a Wang’oo as guests of The Pincer Group- An education consultation agency. They put together that night’s Wang'oo in a village a few miles from Gulu Town. It was apart of their peace and cultural reinvigoration projects for the war-torn region.

We sat around a blazing fire with elders, women and youth from the village. After receiving a warm welcome, we were prompted to sit down in some of the more comfortable chairs there. Lindsay and Erin introduced themselves using their Acholi names of Aber (ah-bear) and Adyer (i-dee-ay) … Next was my turn and they quickly asked why I did not have an Acholi name. Embarrassed, I replied that I was waiting to receive one … The elders conversed among themselves and my name was presented to me.

ANYADWE.
Pronounced: an-yad-whey … It means daughter of the moon. It is given to the most beautiful.

I was extremely flattered and honored to receive such a name in such a way. One elder promptly rose from his set and embraced me tightly, calling me his daughter. He said I had left, but now I was returned- The emotions that fell over my body were deep and brought tears to my eyes. Was I home? My dark skin, textured hair and facial features the only things physically connecting me to my African heritage. Everything else that made this person before you was shaped by America and my experiences growing up as a black girl in the U.S.

But that did not matter. I was returned and although 300-400 years removed from Africa by slavery, oppression, Jim-crow, segregation, racial discrimination, institutionalized racism and all such efforts to integrate blacks into American society … I, was still his daughter. I was STILL a daughter of Africa.

Yes, most Ugandans are confused by me. A Black-American, but even more so a dark-skinned Black American …

It’s known that the U.S. media disproportionally shows fewer images of blacks in mainstream television. And when they do they are brown-skinned to light-skinned Blacks (remnants of slavery) … and if Rap/Pop music videos (usually the unintelligent kind) are the only thing that is allowed to permeate African society, then there is neither a fair nor diverse representation of us … AND what is being taught in the schools here that would warrant such confusion? …

I do believe that West Africa may be different though. Their perception of Black Americans may be much more varied. There has been little travel to east Africa by African-Americans, which may explain largely why I confuse so many people who try to figure out my ethnicity and nationality.

I’m am proud to own my confused identity though- Whether it is here or back home.

To be simply American or African is to not acknowledge history, my heritage and the truth. I am African-American. Being black in the U.S. will always be a different experience from anything ever presented in film, television or video. And though many (of all races) try to recreate it on TV and in movies- This identity can only be lived … and loved because it’s neither or- It is many things. I am only one representation of it.

Africa is a tremendously diverse continent with a long list of ethnic groups, languages, dialects, cultural practices, religions, beliefs and yes shades of skin. So where do I fit in? …

Guess I will let you know when I find out!

This doesn’t begin to explain everything though- these words, my words- because like I said this identity can only be lived … and loved because you know of its struggles, of its triumphs of its failures, its quiet strength, its mistakes, its resilience, its ugly and of its immense beauty.