All mixed up...

For the record...I am Hawaiian, Chinese, Portuguese, Spanish, Italian and Filipino. Yes, it's a mouthful, I know. I don't know how many times I've repeated those six nationalities to others. I've said it so much, that there is an order in which I say it (and apparently, type it, too.) - Hawaiian, Chinese, Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, and Filipino. Yep, they are all accounted for.

No matter where I go - I am mistaken for many other things. In Hawai'i...they know my kind well. I'm a local, but I'm also a 'poi dog', a 'mixed bento', and for you North Americans a 'Heinz 57'. They know...because most of us in Hawai'i would be called the same, too.

In Canada, people have mostly not known where to place me. The Native Americans will look at me and know that I don't belong to them. And those of European decent have only to gaze upon my bronzed skin to know that I don't belong to them, either. In the major city centers, such as Vancouver or Calgary - I am thought to be East Indian. One of my East Indian friends from university once told me that I could look the part...but as soon as I open my mouth, they would know that I don't belong.

Here on the Africa Mercy...yet again, I don't belong. There are very few who look like me. And, living in the mainland, I have slowly gotten used to that fact. I've been asked if I am from Brazil, if I am East Indian, if I hail from somewhere in South America, and asked which one of my parents is African, my mother or father. I simply state that I am a dual citizen, and that I was born and raised in Hawai'i. For some that's enough...for others, it's still a bit confusing.

Sometimes, it's nice to be like me. Since I don't necessarily blend in...some are far to fair, others far to dark...people usually remember who I am. Other cultures are willing to accept me into theirs because I am such a blend. And people are just generally intrigued...who goes from living in Hawai'i to living in Canada...and Calgary of all places?! It's nice to fit in, even if I don't necessarily belong.

Outside these metal walls that have been affectionately referred to as the 'Mercy Box', it's not nice to be like me. I don't belong. My skin is too light, even though it's not white, and I am called Yovo (white person) regardless. Not belonging takes on a different offense here in West Africa. The lighter tone of my skin usually makes me a target to be taken advantage of. Being white (or whitish, I guess, in my case) automatically makes you rich, whether that is a true statement or not.

I understand that my being from North America makes me far richer than some people here in West Africa could ever hope to be. I had a good job (I say had, because I chose to come here and work, and when this is over, Lord only knows where He will take me); I have a career; I was fortunate enough to be educated and graduate from university; I was completely self-reliant; I own two vehicles (a car and a motorcycle). Yes, I am rich. Being here makes me realize that. Being here makes me grateful for the lot that I have been given, the hand that I have to play in life.

But - at the same time...I don't think that it's fair that I get preyed upon because of the color of my skin, the country that I have come from, or the nationalities that created me. Out there - they don't understand - that I pay to work here. To hope to have a chance to bring life changing experiences to the people of this nation. They don't understand - that as much as they sacrifice, we here on the ship have sacrificed, too.

I don't mean to sound bitter...but sometimes, it would be nice to not be treated based on the color of your skin, but rather the kindness in your heart.

It's just a bit hard for me. Because, I understand to some extent why they would try to take advantage of someone who's skin color is different, someone who is not native to the land, someone who doesn't really know the true value of things. I get it. There is a bit of a Robin Hood fancy in me at times. Wanting to take from the rich, to give to the poor.

I see how they live and the lot that they have been handed in life. And my heart breaks. One can't help but come face-to-face with the reality, that sometimes your success in life is in part due to where you come from. How easily, it could've been me in their place. How easily, they in mine. Why one was chosen to hail from Africa and another from North America - I do not know. How to gain equality in all aspects...yet another thing that is beyond me.

And with all these thoughts in my head...much like my heritage...I am feeling all mixed up...