Erik Erikson suggests that ‘in the social jungle of human existence, there is no feeling of being alive without a sense of identity’. But what does it mean when you do not know what your identity is?

Imagine being a ‘third culture kid’ who is originally Gambian, whose parents are Norwegian and the moment she returns to her home country, she no longer feels like she is who she thought she was. She does not know where her identity lies. This is my problem: born into one culture, transformed by another, loyal to none.

David C. Pollock in his book, Third Culture Kids: The Experience of Growing up Among Worlds explains it well by saying that “Third Culture Kids (TCK) builds relationships to all of the cultures while not having full ownership in any.”

When I was nine, my father was blessed enough to get a job in Oman. It was a new beginning for me because I had the chance to go to a better school and gain access to a high standard of living. I was a small Gambian child finally experiencing the ‘western life’ I had admired for so long through the television screen.

Suddenly, I had a diverse group of friends, from different cultures and races. For six years, I grew up indulging in international life. But here I was Gambian: that was my identity and that was who I was. Whenever someone asked me where I was from, I would say I am Gambian; I was proud that every international day I would wear my daget and offer a small portion of benachin and say nagadef.

I did not realise then that my views and beliefs were already changing. Even when we moved again, this time to Brunei, I was a Gambian and stood out as the first Gambian most of my peers had ever met. It was easy to feel special when you are the only representative.

But suddenly (or so it seemed to me) everything changed. My father lost his job and was forced to return to his base country, Norway, with my mother and younger sisters. I could not join them, because I was not a Norwegian citizen. Nor could I go and study there because I had finished school, yet we could not afford the fees to further my education given our current situation.

The only choice I had was to go back ‘home’, to The Gambia – the only place that would accept me and my passport. And that is when I realised: the Gambia was not home anymore.
You never know what you left behind until you go back and search for it.

Suddenly, I felt like Okonkwo in Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe when he returns home to discover what he left behind was no longer the same when the missionaries took over. Everything was different in my eyes yet it was the same to everyone else living in The Gambia. To them, like Okonkwo’s people, they had just progressed, but they were still the same people.

In The Gambia, everyone knows, understands and is proud of the tribe they were born into. For me, I knew I was Wolof, but I did not understand it I could not appreciate the culture behind it. I felt like a tourist in my own home country: foreign. I felt ashamed of myself because when I was away, I was a Gambian, but in the place that I needed to be a Gambian the most, I was unable to be one. It was at that moment I felt like the line from The Great Gatsby ”Mr Nobody from Nowhere” could be applied to me and my situation.

An incident that really made me question myself was when I was told by an elder man that I should ‘speak like an African, not like a “western” because (I am) African’. Whenever I spoke English or attempted to speak Wolof (mother tongue) I offended someone in some way. They would say “hanna hamulo ki jugay wut fi holalnumo” which meaning that ‘can’t you see the way she’s speaking, she’s not from here’.

I know that by birth and by blood, I am Gambian and that part of me will never change. But writing this from The Gambia, reflecting on who I am, I realise that my identity has been shaped by the countries I have lived, the people I have met and the lessons I have learned in different contexts. I also understand that I am not alone when it comes to being classed as ‘Third culture kids’; in many online articles we are described as ‘citizens of the world’.

Damaris Walter in his article “Third Culture kids” – A clash of cultures within their own identity illustrates how being TCK, makes you more open-minded, tolerant and understanding of the world around and I could not agree more when he states that these ‘abilities are deeply rooted in their personality.’

In all honesty, I still do not know what my identity is or who I ‘truly’ am. For me, I feel that there is still time to experience another culture, to live in another context, to see if another piece of my puzzle can be solved.

To counter Erikson’s maxims, I may not have an identity yet, but I am still living, still trying to add another chapter to my story.”

By Fatou Mbenga