Filling the Gap

When it comes to the human species, belonging to a tribe has meant survival since the beginning of time. A tribe provided physical safety. Today, however, a tribe provides more psychological safety. Whether that be through family, religion, communities, or clubs, having a group of people who understands, validates, and simply “gets” us makes life survivable. Our tribe gives us a sense of belonging to something bigger than ourselves.

I lost my tribe in Pune, India, at the tender age of three. Everything I knew from the language to the food to the chaotic sounds of the traffic disappeared overnight. Literally. In the span of a plane ride to Minnesota, every aspect of my tribe vanished. While I was brought into a loving family – a new tribe–it wasn’t the same. My soul ached for the one I left behind.

Now being back in my hometown for the past 24 hours, I’m overcome by a surge of old familiar smells, sights, sounds, and feelings. All the unknown questions about what it was to be a girl from Pune were finally going to be answered. But as my mother, sister, and I sat down for dinner at a nearby restaurant, our waiter came over and immediately addressed me in Marathi. Caught off guard, I nervously started talking in English to signify I couldn’t speak the language. However, he continued looking to me and asking questions in Marathi. It quickly dawned on me that my white mother and Chinese sister looked like foreigners, but I do not. The waiter assumed I was hosting these foreign guests.

To him, I was a Pune girl. He saw me as a part of the Pune tribe!

This interaction led to reflection about where I grew up after being adopted. Dennison Minnesota (population 171) is a very small town in rural Minnesota, where not much exciting happens until the annual Norwegian Lutefisk community dinner at the Lutheran Church. Even though very few people still speak Norwegian, remember Norwegian culture, or (let's be honest) even like lutefisk, it doesn’t matter. For one evening a year, everyone breaks out their woolen Scandinavian sweaters, waits in line a full hour to eat lefse, lutefisk, and krumkake while comparing what percentage of Norwegian they are Even if they are only 1/16 Norwegian, or none at all, the community rejoices in this shared sense of belonging. They hold onto the traditions to keep the tribe alive.

Coming back to the Indian restaurant. I confess it was a punch to the gut to be unable to remember a single word of my native language, but I took a page out of my own workbook to decide which character I wanted to be. The victim would see she lost everything and no longer belonged here in Pune, but the hero would see this waiter’s actions as a sign that I did belong. He let me know that it was time to assimilate back into my hometown culture by answering him in Marathi. He recognized me as one of their own, and let me know that I belonged here. How I responded was now up to me.

So, if the first step to flipping my script (and becoming the hero of my story) was speaking my native language, then that’s what I will do. I will relearn Marathi even if it’s only one word a day.

Back at the hotel, I looked up the word for “thank you” which is “Dhan'yavāda”. So, Dhan'yavāda to the waiter who opened the door back to my tribe of Pune. Dhan'yavāda to those back in Dennison who raised me so graciously in their lutefisk-loving tribe. And Dhan'yavāda to all the people that I will be spending time with (and practicing my rusty-but-soon-to-be-fluent Marathi) over the next four months out here.

Khushi is BACK.

**As you finish reading this blog, think to yourself; what is my tribe? What are the traditions, people, and culture that I know like the back of my hand? When you're with them how do you feel? How do you act? Can you describe the sense of belonging you feel? Or is there a tribe that you long to be a part of? Is it time to flip your script in some way?

Onward!

Khushi