Where are you from?
Ah, the perennial question that has haunted me since I could remember: “Where are you from?” It’s a seemingly innocuous inquiry, innocently tossed into conversations like a gentle grenade, waiting to explode into a hot mess of confusion and awkwardness, which I always experienced as a child.
Picture this: Nairobi, Kenya, a bustling city of vibrant colors and eclectic cultures. That’s where I drew my first breath, where the rhythm of life pulsed through the streets. But hold on, don’t slap that “Made in Kenya” sticker on me just yet. My story’s got more twists than a Bollywood plot.
You see, my lineage traces back to Zoroastrian roots, those ‘ancient fire-worshippers of Iran’. But wait, there’s more! My folks, bless their adventurous souls, hailed from Zanzibar, yes, that’s right, the spice-laden island of dreams, floating off the coast of East Africa. And before that? Well, the city of Bombay, where chaos is as much a part of life as the dabbawalas, where a sense of humor and an unwavering faith in the power of chai is all you need. And further back, if we delve deeper, we hit Navsari in Gujarat, India, the ancestral homeland where our Zoroastrian ancestors landed after leaving Iran.
