Culture shock! . .The struggles of Zimbabweans raising children abroad

Bruce Ndlovu, Sunday Life ReporterWHEN Jabulani Nkomo’s 16-year-old son asked for a car, Nkomo, a resident of Gateshead, a town in England’s North East, did not think much of it.His son had only recently started learning to drive and with the town’s efficient transport system, which had reliably taken his son to school for 11 years, a car seemed an unnecessary investment, especially given Nkomo’s focus on investments back home and the United Kingdom (UK)’s rising cost of living.What Nkomo did not realise was that his son was asking for more than just a vehicle.At Kenton High School, a car was a rite of passage — a symbol of maturity and, for many, proof of financial stability.Nkomo did not see it that way. What began as a simple request quickly escalated into a “nuclear issue” that ultimately fractured his relationship with his son.“I did not see any need to get the car,” he told Sunday Life.“I felt I should acquire one for him when the time suited me. I had a lot of financial and social considerations to make and I was not prepared to just let him drive because he had turned 16.”Over time, his son’s requests turned aggressive, showing flashes of impatience Nkomo had never seen.Petty disagreements became heated arguments and sulking turned into outright insolence.

A father-son bond built over 16 years began to unravel.“We started having arguments in a way that did not align with how he was raised. He now seemed like the British kids we always used to criticise. Things eventually simmered down, but I think those two years changed our relationship permanently,” he said.

A clash of culturesLast week, Zimbabweans on social media were taken aback by a video of a child in a heated argument with their mother.The dispute centred on the recently held Zimfest, a music extravaganza dubbed the greatest celebration of Zimbabwean culture in the UK.The sulking child, aggrieved that their mother had not bought VIP tickets, was chastising her for this “failure.”The tone and direction of the conversation shocked many Zimbabweans unaccustomed to children talking back to their guardians.The conversation was revealing.It showed two people linked by blood but separated by culture. While the child spoke with a heavily Anglicised accent, the mother responded in a mixture of Shona and English that had lost none of its Zimbabwean flavour.On several occasions, the parent had to ask the child to slow down, unable to fully comprehend.As the conversation progressed, the thick wall of misunderstanding between them seemed to grow larger with every word.That incident, along with the shock accompanying images of skimpily dressed young Zimbabweans at Zimfest, illustrated the growing gulf between parents raised in Zimbabwe and their children, who are rapidly losing some of the customs of their forebears in a land they now call home. No place called homeFor the Nkomo family, conversations with their son once he had grown into an independent adult helped bridge the gap and opened their eyes to the struggles he faced.While he had seen his parents juggle two jobs and responsibilities both at home and with extended family back in Zimbabwe, the young learner also faced immense pressure, as almost his entire class had vehicles entering their senior year.“I think as parents, we are perhaps blind to the struggles of these children who were uprooted from a Zimbabwean environment at a very young age and placed in an alien environment.

So, while for us it was not a big deal to purchase a car for someone that young, because we never faced that same kind of pressure growing up in Zimbabwe, for him, it became a daily source of shame. At the time, I just felt that he was being disrespectful and in many ways he was, but I probably should have put myself in his shoes.”Nkomo observed that as his son grew older and memories of his early life in Zimbabwe faded, he seemed caught between two cultures.While they tried to make their home a cocoon for all things Zimbabwean, Nkomo had always feared they would lose him to the outside world.“You can keep out British culture only for so long. Before long, the behaviour and mannerisms that define British youth start to creep on them and that is how I feel you start to lose them.

You no longer recognise your child,” he said. British accents, Zimbabwean rootsThe recent post-Brexit migration wave has brought thousands of Zimbabweans to the UK, especially into the healthcare and care sectors.But for those who came during the first mass exodus at the turn of the century, the challenges of raising children abroad have become all too familiar. Among the most painful is the loss of language.Evangelia Daskalaki, an assistant professor of linguistics at the University of Alberta, noted that immigrant families are losing their mother tongues faster than ever due to fewer opportunities to use them.“Children use the majority language in a wide range of settings with many speakers, while the heritage language is mostly confined to the home and daily routines,” she said.

While many parents hope to preserve their culture and language through their children, the task is far more difficult than they realise.“That video shocked people because their kids are still young,” said Mlamuli Ncube, a Zimbabwean, who moved to the UK in 2001.“But they will face this sooner or later. I have seen it. You watch your child lose command of Shona or Ndebele.

They struggle to talk to you. They stop speaking to their grandparents altogether. Over time, they lose their identity.

I do not know how the new generation of parents can stop it or if they even can at all.”Share on FacebookPost on XFollow usSave

Originally published on Zimbabwe Herald

Source: Zimbabwe Herald