Learning To Be
I was born in Guinea, West Africa and immigrated to the United States when I was 6 years old. As I can remember it wasn’t hard to adapt and adjust to American culture. However, my parents were keen on maintaining my African heritage. They would not allow me to speak English at home as they believed it would make me forget my native language. Learning two different languages made it difficult to be able to master one at a superb level. This would cause me to mix up languages during conversation as not all words are able to be translated accurately. When I would speak to family back home they would perceive me as being an “American” before I was “African”. However, my friends in the United States viewed me as an “African” who immigrated to America. No culture fully accepted me as a member.
After staying in America for about 7 years I went to Africa for summer vacation. During this time I was more fluent in English then my native tongue. When I was there it became apparent that the main sport played was soccer. This was problematic because I enjoy playing basketball and considered it as the superior sport. I felt out of place, as if I didn’t belong to the same place I was born in. I felt like a tourist when I would watch kids play soccer in fields with robust smiles on their faces enjoying themselves. I was a spectator of the life I was supposed to be living if I hadn’t move to the United States. It was like I was learning how to be “African” again. When we came back to America I realized I was better at soccer then I was prior. Moreover, I spoke Fulani (my native language) more fluently. Understandably, This made me develop a minor accent when I spoke English. It was hard to notice but if you listened carefully you could hear it. Moreover, all of my American friends exceeded my skills in basketball as I wasn’t playing it as much. From then on I began to practice my English and basketball skills. It Felt like I was learning how to be “American” all over again.
NEED A TITLE: ___
Throughout my life I felt like I was in “Between two Worlds”. {CUt not needed…can you turn this into a title?]
I was born in Guinea, West Africa and immigrated to the United States when I was 6 years old. As I can remember it wasn’t hard to adapt and adjust to American culture. However, my parents were keen on maintaining my African heritage. They would not allow me to speak English at home as they believed it would make me forget my native language {WHAT is the name of the language?] .
Learning two different languages made it difficult to be able to master one at a superb level. This would cause me to mix up languages during conversation as not all words are able to be translated accurately. [Good place to develop a scene of this confusion of languages] When I would speak to family back home they would perceive me as being an “American” before I was “African”. However, my friends in the United States viewed me as an “African” who immigrated to America. No culture fully accepted me as a member.
After staying in America for about 7 years I went to Africa for summer vacation. During this time I was more fluent in English then my native tongue. [It wasn’t just the language it was also the games we kids played.]
When I was there it became apparent that the main sport played was soccer. This was problematic because [in America] I enjoy playing basketball and considered it as the superior sport. I felt out of place [This sounds like it could be a scene — Can you create a scene of playing soccer with your Guinean friends/cousins? How you didn’t know how to play or you felt out of place watching? Describe a group of you and your African cousins/friends at the soccer “pitch” — is this what a field is called in Guinea? Suggestion to use a few key words in Fulani to show me / to set the scene in that PLACE. What did you see, how did you play badly, what did the kids say to you, and what were your inner thoughts as you watched the kids???], as if I didn’t belong to the same place I was born in. I felt like a tourist when I would watch kids play soccer in fields with robust smiles on their faces enjoying themselves.
I was a spectator of the life I was supposed to be living if I didn’t [had never] move to the United States. {I LIKED THIS SENTENCE!} It was like I was learning how to be “African” again. [I had to learn — WHAT THIHNGS – make a list] When we came back to America I realized I was better at soccer then I was prior. Moreover, I spoke Fulani (my native language) more fluently. Understandably, This made me develop [I had now developed] a minor accent when I spoke English. It was hard to notice but if you listened carefully you could hear it. Moreover, all of my American friends exceeded my skills in basketball as I wasn’t playing it as much. From then on I began to practice my English and basketball skills. It Felt like I was learning how to be “American” all over again.
And how have you resolved these TWO sides of yourself? Think about an ending.
Wow—this is so interesting. Title: Soccer vs Basketball / African vs America. Learning how to be — MYSELF.
Can you create a scene of the soccer playing in Africa? How you felt out of place watching? Describe a group of you and your African cousins/friends at the soccer “pitch” — is this what a field is called in Guinea? Suggestion to use a few key words in Fulani to show me / to set the scene in that PLACE. What did you see and what were your inner thoughts as you watched the kids.