(In Part 2 of this four-part series about Third Culture Kids in Brazil, we meet TCKs Max Saragoussi and Arsene Charlon.)
Max Saragoussi on ‘What is a Nationality?’
(Max Saragoussi was born in Houston, Texas, U.S.A., of a Senegalese-French mother and French father. He has lived in the United States, Libya, France, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria and Brazil.)
If you were to ask me where I’m from, my first response would be France, but it would also be the United States.
If you were to get to know me better, I would tell you that I’m also Senegalese, but I’ve only been there twice, and I don’t have a Senegalese passport (although I’m a firm believer that a nationality is more than a passport but for simplicity’s sake, it helps a lot to limit it to just passports).
You may be wondering how my response can be both French and U.S. first and not French American or U.S.-French. Maybe it’s a result of living most of my life away from my home country, but I’ve always felt like a foreigner to the point where even in France I don’t feel as “French.”
Maybe it’s because others see me differently than just simply “French” or “American,” but I’m French in the U.S. and “American” in France. I found myself befriending and spending most of my time with U.S. citizens in France, and the opposite in the United States.
I believe what makes us different is ultimately what unites us in many cases, although it isn’t a strict rule.
Think about your own friends: your friendships most probably expanded now, but you probably started with something in common to tie you together. I feel more U.S. or French when surrounded by a minority of people. This to me creates a circumstantial nationality, under certain circumstances I’m French, others, U.S. and others even Senegalese.
LANGUAGE
Secondly, I believe language is a strong part of our identity — where, when, how and with whom we use our language.
Language is a big part of the circumstantiality of nationality. To me, language has been ever evolving. My short time spent in France when I was in nursery school was the only time I lived in a French-speaking country until I was 12-15 years old.
I have been and still am fluent in French after learning to speak with my father and grandparents. Therefore, French was mostly a paternal language, even though my mother speaks French fluently, I speak English with her, unlike my father and his side of the family.
My French ended up being quite casual, yet my use of idioms remained limited in comparison to English, and my slang was also very limited. However, when I moved back to France I spent one year in an English-speaking school, then two in a French school.
Language is a strong part of our identity — where, when, how and with whom we use our language.
In the English-speaking school, despite my whole life aside from school and mother being in French, my French didn’t evolve much. The great change, though, came when I moved schools.
In the French school, although my closest friends were mostly English speakers (as I previously stated), I wasn’t limited to English speakers. I was more connected to the “average” French person my age than before. Therefore, my slang and idioms developed a lot into what I have today.
French to me is now a paternal language, but also the language I use with some friends, revolving mostly around slang and of course informality.
In contrast, English has always been my language for “everything else.” Even though my friends in the U.S. were mostly French, we spoke English mostly and still do.
In school, most of my life I spoke English, with my brothers as well. Most of what I consumed in terms of shows, movies or any other media was in English.
As a result, throughout my whole life I’ve had a more stable language base and fluctuated not in my level or in the contexts in which I use it, but more the expressions themselves and the way they change as a result of trends (which is why my current French is ever-so-slightly different than most people my age, I didn’t follow the trends form after two years ago when I moved).
As a result of the majority of my schooling having been in British international schools, I use some more British terms, even though I have spent three out of the last six years in U.S. international schools: You may have noticed that I used the term “nursery” earlier in this article, however it would take some reflection for me to tell you what “year” I am in, unlike my “grade.” Or, I would “take an elevator” but “throw something in the bin.”
My U.S. identity remains strong, but the British roots from my schooling are still present.
Arsene Charlon on Being a ‘Sedentary Nomad’
(Arsene Charlon was born in Geneva, Switzerland. His parents are French and French-Moroccan. He grew up in Switzerland for three years, then France for four years, followed by three years in Spain, three years in France and three years in Malaysia before moving to Brazil.)
The way of living is different for each individual. Since the beginning of civilization, we classify these ways of living in two categories: the nomad life and sedentary life.
A nomad is someone who doesn’t have a fixed place that he can call home, someone who moves constantly as time goes by. In contrast, a sedentary person is someone who developed a home somewhere and doesn’t move: he attached himself to this place and chose to stay there.
Now, how can I opt for one of these adjectives to qualify my life?
One could say that I am a nomad. Since my birth, I have been changing countries numerous times, so many times that it shocks most people I tell. I’m a 17-year-old boy who was born in Switzerland — in Geneva, to be more precise.
My parents both come from dichotomous backgrounds: My mother is from Safi, a port city in Morocco, while my father is from Saint-Martin de Seignanx, which is a little municipality in the urban area of the city of Bayonne, located in the southwest of France.
This mix of origins is already a great factor of the multiculturalism I possess, but this same factor has been increased throughout my life as I traveled the world.
Switzerland has been one of the most important parts of my life. Despite the fact that I left when I was very young, at only 3 years old, I still conserve and cherish important memories that I hope I never forget.
I remember the sound of my father working with wood in our building’s courtyard, the long walks my parents and I did together through the parks of the city as well as some smells and tastes which I could never describe.
This notion of memory of smell and taste is the experience I prefer. To illustrate what I mean by that, I can give you a recent example of a memory I retrieved when I was eating at a restaurant in the city I live in right now: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
My family and I were enjoying a popular Brazilian meal: meat with chimichurri, as well as fried polenta. When I put the polenta in my mouth, I got seized by this familiar emotion that is so rare, this unexplainable feeling of deja vu. I had already eaten this when I was little, but I didn’t have any memories of it.
This feeling impacts more than a deja vu, since images of memories appear in your mind, which shows you this feeling is not an impression, but a real experience you had.
As an addition to this perspective, it’s important to note that I am an enthusiastic eater: I feel a deep devotion to this activity, and I’m always passionate about trying new tastes and flavors, which is something that could play an important role in how I retrieve these memories.
This notion of memory of smell and taste is the experience I prefer.
I also tend to associate smells to chapters of my life. Since I moved a lot since I was born, I mostly associate these smells with different countries I lived in, or schools I’ve been to. Recognizing this feeling as being a smell isn’t really appropriate, since it’s more like a short physical state in which I get seized by nostalgia and melancholia, as a reminder that I would never go back to this phase of my life, and that I can only remember it through memories.
I mostly feel this kind of nostalgia when something reminds me of Madrid, Spain where I spent my early youth.
On the other hand, it could also be argued that my life still has a sedentary perspective. In fact, nomad people only stay in a certain place for a reduced amount of time, which is totally the opposite for me. I have never stayed in a country for less than two years, and I always stayed in a place I felt gradually more comfortable as time went on.
In total, I spent three years in Switzerland, seven years in France, three years in Spain, two years in Malaysia and I am concluding my second year in Brazil. By staying this much time in each country, I developed an attachment to those cultures, people and landscapes. When thinking about them, I always feel some regret, having made friends and discovered new values in each of these countries, but I always keep in mind that moving is what allowed me to be so open-minded, which I am very grateful to my parents.
This sedentary experience allows me to have a certain amount of knowledge on these cultures, to which I can relate to without having origins coming from there. In fact, I like to compare the nomad lifestyle to holiday travel.
During holiday travel, you go out from where you live to visit another place, in a relatively short amount of time. You discover different cultures, different common customs but you can never relate to this place.
When living for at least two years in a country, you get immersed in the environment and you start to copy and apply these customs. For instance, my family and I have this new custom of taking off our shoes whenever we enter someone’s house or simply our house.
Some people could argue this is not a picked-up custom and it is simple hygiene, but it’s in fact not the case. In Asia, most specifically in Malaysia, taking off your shoes shows a sense of respect. Through this action, you symbolize how the house of your host emanates a feeling of hospitality and cleanliness. In addition, in France, we didn’t tend to take out our shoes when entering anyone’s house, meaning that it really reflects the cultural customs you have.
Traveling around the world helped me become open-minded as well as multicultural. I am forever grateful to my parents for allowing me to have such diverse experiences, which influenced the way I developed as a person, for the better, I hope.
