Stewarding My Culture across Cultural Boundaries.
I love my songs. It is the biggest part of Nigerian culture
that I have. I love to sing them. When I am happy, there are songs for that.
When I am sad, there are songs for that too. When I’m in love, I have got to write
a few. I know enough about high-life rhythms to create one.
As I matriculated through Covenant Seminary there was always
a temptation to show off. There are days when I wanted to make myself feel
better than others by simply being different. Thankfully, I was often too shy
about things I get very emotional about, like music, psychology, social ethics,
and theology to do so casually.
There were times when I did do something Igbo/Nigerian. I
wore some of the clothes to church. I made or brought back to the dorm a
certain food (Mom’s meat-pie is presently calling me). I sang one of our songs
or danced one of our dances inchurch. I made sure I had a good reason why.
Sometimes, I wore the clothes because it was hot and humid.
These clothes were designed for that weather. Sometimes I wore the clothes
because it was Independence Day. I knew that many Nigerian people were doing
the same. Once, I sang an old song in Igbo to honor a young man from the Congo
who was about to get married. When I ate Nigerian food, it was because… it was
food…that tasted good (duh).
It is not until today, a full week after graduating that I
get it. Culture serves its people. Certain songs, certain ways of gathering,
certain clothes are part of traditions that guide us through grieving the dead,
the end of relationships, the birth of a child, the commitment of marriage, the
coming of age of boys to men and girls to women, and a myriad of other
situations. The culture of my folks and the culture of this land, interestingly
enough, have different traditions surrounding the same events. These traditions
touch our need to be human better than others in certain places. Some traditions are better geared towards including
the community in individual grief. Other social traditions are more clear in
nurturing individual achievement and self control. I love the variety.
However, I do hate whenever tradition becomes entertainment.
When a sad song is sung just to demonstrate it, when a dance of grief becomes
something to show-off at a party, I do not think that is right.
The children of Israel faced a question that was
very much like the ones we, bi- and tri-cultural people face today. After they
were taken captive by Babylon ,
they, in their torment and grief, were asked to sing songs of joy (Psalm
137:3). They wondered, “How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a
foreign land?” (137:4 NIV) It seems that they concluded that to sing their
songs inappropriately is to forget where they came from (Psalm 137:5-6). Then
they went on to sing a song appropriate to their situation. They sang grief,
anger, and cries for vengeance (137:7-9). They stewarded their culture well.
