Returning and Belonging

From the moment when I publicly acknowledged that I would be moving from Ecuador to the United States, my sense of belonging shifted. The words "returning" and "coming back" suddenly entered my conversations with increased frequency. On the flip side, "leaving," "moving," and occasionally "abandoning us" also reached a new level of familiarity. Conversations with my family and friends in the United States received an injection of excitement and eager expectation. At the same time, my days filled up with an increasing number of goodbye parties and conversations about how great the past few years had been. My future was no longer in Ecuador, so even my continuing presence in the country was lived in an odd twilight zone of being but not belonging.

I always had known that my life in Ecuador was not permanent. However, that knowledge did not limit my assimilation over the course of five years. I was always the foreigner, but I became a foreigner who understood, who belonged, who added diversity to the conversations. I was applauded for learning the language, including the slang and Kichwa words randomly inserted in everyday conversation. I received the love and affection of my new friends who became like family. As I shared my life with them, I simultaneously absorbed a deep understanding of Ecuadorian culture. I needed to understand the country and the people to survive. I wanted to think like an Ecuadorian and view the world through their eyes to thrive. Did I achieve that? Not completely, but it was enough to build a life in which I belonged in Ecuador.

Now I have left. Or maybe I have returned. Regardless, I am no longer in Ecuador. Here no one cares if I know the bus times from Cruz Chicta. No one will as me "imanalla?" I no longer buy tree tomatoes, uvilla, and papaya at the market to make juice. I can't open a fresh cocoa pod with a machete and enjoy the juicy white baba that surrounds the beans. Darting between cars to cross a 6-lane road and wearing a backpack in front of me on a crowded bus are no longer useful skills. All that knowledge has no practical application for my new life.

I have to set aside all the ingrained tendencies, knowledge, and skills to make room for the news. I need to learn to yield to pedestrians even if they are not yet in the crosswalk. I need to get used to paying ten times more for produce at the store or farmer's market. I have to write well-organized essays instead of explaining business concepts in simple Spanish language. I need to speak up and advocate for myself instead of waiting my turn in line. These things would have been my norm if I had never left Michigan. July would have been a normal summer month instead of marking the end of my time in Ecuador and the beginning of my return to Michigan.

These are my experiences of returning. Some say that I am back where I belong, where I was raised. However, belonging implies a level of comfort and familiarity. I don't have that. The Michigan I left five years ago is not the one I encounter today. Just as I changed, Michigan has moved forward. 

Now I am trying to redefine myself. I am still in that twilight zone, but now it is in Michigan. I am present, but I don't yet belong. This is not the excitement of exploring a new country. It is the complexity and hard work of bringing back what I learned in a different country and combining it with the reality of a place I used to know. I have returned, but when will I belong?