Narrative From the Life of an International

Narrative From the Life of an International Student

If my life were a fairy tale, it would not begin with the words "once upon a time, in a land far, far away." To many Americans, Lebanon seems like a land very far away from what they know. Most Americans have heard of Lebanon in terms of its existence as a war-torn nation. They read about it in the newspapers in phrases, along the lines of "because of Israeli-Palestinian conflicts, the nation of Lebanon became drawn into the contentious issues at stake between these two warring peoples." Or, they hear about Lebanon in terms of phrases, such as "in the war-torn nation of Lebanon, the inhabitants were horrified by the destruction that the civil war caused, in political and societal terms."

To me, Lebanon is not a land far, far away, and the civil war is a part of my history, not the only aspect of my history. Lebanon to me is also the land of my family, my faith, and my parents. It is part of my cultural tradition. In my eyes, Lebanon is not a sky streaked with the fire of bombs. In my eyes, Lebanon is a land full of mountains. When I close my eyes and think of my land, I smell the familiar spices of my favorite foods, not the smoke from bombs. When I dream about my home country, I think of the laughter and familiar language of friends and family and popular local gathering places. I lived, not in a place that formed a black and white space on a newspaper headline, but in a land of human beings I loved.

The infamous name of Lebanon has made it difficult for me, at times, living in the United States. When people ask me, "where do you come from, your accent is different than mine," I brace inwardly when I tell them I come from Lebanon. I often try to stop them from prejudging me, stating with a forced laugh "as if it were not shocking enough that I am not a natural-born American, I come from Lebanon as well."

Of course, growing up in a nation with such a difficult history was hard for me at times. I was not an integral part of the worst aspects of the civil conflict there. But growing up in such a nation that has had such an unstable history has often made me feel unstable in my sense of place and self. Rather than always feeling assured, as an American, that my country will always be there, be strong in its sense of government and structure, I always feel slightly in doubt. I am proud of my homeland, but I can never go to sleep knowing that it has stood sound and secure for three hundred years of recent history, and will do so in the foreseeable future.

However, despite Lebanon's political instability, I am proud of its rich cultural tradition. This is one similarity between Lebanon and the United States. Both nations are the site of many nations, national identities, and faiths. Lebanon contains Christians and Muslims within its national fabric. It boasts individuals of both European and Arabic ancestry, as well as from many other ethnic groups, as part of its community. So does the United States. Learning English was difficult in terms of picking up words of slang particular to America, but I was used to living amid the buzz of many languages, including French and Arabic.

The international nature of Lebanon meant that it was not as difficult for me to feel comfortable acclimating to the United States as might be initially expected. I have lived in the United States for five years. Yet even before I came to the United States, it was customary for me to live amongst many people of many different competing belief systems and values. I came, not judging harshly from a solitary cultural tradition, but with open eyes to the possibilities diversity can yield.

Some of the things that were most difficult to adjust to in the United States might not be immediately obvious to a native-born resident. For instance, when I first came to the United States, I was struck by the fast pace of things here. Everyone wanted everything -- right now, if not sooner! Even waiting in line for so much as a hamburger in a drive-through seemed to tax the patience of the average American driver. I was used to waiting in line in Lebanon, and taking my time to get to different places. But I was also struck by the friendliness of ordinary individuals on the streets of America. People smiled much more in America than I was accustomed to see at home, on the street. I felt welcomed from the very outset, but perhaps in a slightly superficial fashion. Are people really this happy, I wondered?

It was much harder adjusting over a long period of time, as I gradually came to grips with some of the prejudices, innocent and otherwise, individuals had about my nation of origin. I began to gradually realize that I was no longer fully Lebanese or American in my orientation in the world. This has been a great advantage to me in some ways. I feel privileged to be part of both an old nation and a relatively new nation. I feel that my perspective as a human being is richer from living in two different countries, and appreciating the wealth, bounty, and opportunities present in America, as well as appreciating the rich and troubled culture I have left behind.

However, with this added perspective also comes a sense of loneliness. Of course, I am hardly the first individual to come to America, seeking a new life and a new identity through education. But the small nation I come from is not one with a secure place in the world community. Thus, sometimes I feel I have left a place, and not established a secure place in my new nation -- yet I do not have a sure and certain place to travel back to, either on the globe, or within myself.