Hey, Where Are You From?
This question has always been very difficult for me. I am what you call a third-culture kid aka TCK.
TCK’s are individuals raised in a culture other than their parents’ or the culture of their country of nationality, and also live in a different environment during a significant part of their child development years. We live in this place called the global world. People always asked me if I lived internationally? I tend to reply: No, I lived globally. Now you make ask, what is the difference? So, I found a good explanation googling what is the difference: “International” has a smaller scope encompassing only two or more countries while “global” has a much larger scope which includes the whole world. … Although they are sometimes used in lieu of each other, “global” means “all-encompassing and worldwide” while “international” means “foreign or multinational.” (written by Emelda M of http://www.differencebetween.net/)
I was lucky to have been an “airline brat” and thus lived all over the world. Prior to my birth, my parents were living in what was Yugoslavia (Serbia) as my father was stationed there with an airline. Being a communist country at the time and my mother being British, she decided to fly “home” to London to give birth. She then returned to Belgrade with me. We were there a few years and then were transferred to Houston, Texas! Yes, that place where they have cowboys, horses, ranches, and Indians. Do I have a cowboy hat? I sure do!
Our second exotic transfer was to Zaire, officially the Republic of Zaire, which was the name of a sovereign state between 1971 and 1997 in Central Africa that is now known as the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The country was a one-party totalitarian dictatorship, run by Mobutu Sese Seko Kuku Ngbendu Wa Za Banga (his official name) and his ruling Popular Movement of the Revolution party.
We had just missed The Rumble in the Jungle which was a historic boxing event in Kinshasa, Zaire, on October 30, 1974. Even though we arrived in 1976 the streets were still lined with posters of George Foreman against challenger Muhammad Ali. The Zairoise were very proud that the fight had been held there. Our assignment there was cut short as the Katangan rebels that were based in Angola and who launched two invasions and we had to leave.
Where to next? Kabul, Afghanistan! We moved to Afghanistan when no one knew where Afghanistan was! Friends were asking me if it was in Africa?? Little did we know that Afghanistan would become as famous and destroyed as it is today.
I loved Kabul it was my favorite place out of all the seven countries that we lived in. I was in my teen years by then and my parents wanted me to have a good education so I was sent off to England to boarding school. My mother grew up in boarding school as her father was in the British Military and was also based in different countries around the world such as Libya and Germany. I used to go “home” to Kabul almost every school break and was always looked at very strangely at the airport. Immigration police were always wary as to why would a 14-year-old be flying off to Afghanistan, alone!
Our stay in Afghanistan was cut short!
We were sunbathing in the backyard and saw on top of the mountains two Russian tanks peering down at the area. We lived in the infamous neighborhood of Wazir Akbar Khan one of the wealthiest areas in Kabul. Many foreign embassies were located there, including the American Embassy. The US Ambassador Adolph “Spike” Dubs was kidnapped at gunpoint, held hostage in a Kabul hotel, and killed in a botched rescue attempt. The tension was rising and we were advised to leave the country within a few days! All this happened on the same day that Iranian militants attacked the US Embassy in Tehran, Iran, and just months before the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.
Two revolutions on my record and I was barely 16 years old.
Where did we go next? Istanbul, Turkey! I was still in boarding school but visited my parents on school breaks. I also loved Istanbul! The atmosphere, the Grand Bazaar, sunbathing on the Sea of Marmara, and all the culinary delicacies. I felt at home in Istanbul and I was at an age where I could be independent and go sailing and to the beach parties. I was hoping we would stay there for a long time. I finally felt at home.
We were not that lucky and AGAIN had to leave the country urgently due to the 1980 Turkish coup d’état which was the third coup d’état in the history of the Republic, the previous having been the 1960 coup and the 1971 coup.
Our next stop was Frankfurt, “West” Germany. By then I had finished my schooling in England and moved to live with my parents in Frankfurt. Finally in “civilization”. I went to school in Germany and did my International Baccalaureate through the International school system.
I always thought I was alone and finally found out through the internet that I was actually a TCK and was not alone and that there were many kids like me. Up until then, I was a chameleon. If someone asked me where I was from, I would check them out and if she/he was British I would say that I was from England, if she/he was American I would say that I was from the USA.
I had a couple of funny coincidental incidents where once I met an Afghan in a cafe on one of my visits to Amsterdam and I caught on that he was an Afghan and so I approached him in Dari (one of the Afghan spoken languages) and the man was in shock. I definitely do not look like the typical Afghan woman, no Chador (the typical Afghan woman head covering) and I have blond hair and blue eyes. Another time was when I took a taxi in Chicago and I heard the taxi driver speaking Lingala (a Bantu language spoken in the Congo) and I approached him in Lingala, he almost had a car accident! He could not believe his ears…he kept saying: say it again!
This was my TCK life on the tip of the iceberg!
