Cultural Dissonance

 This month, it became increasingly clear that I might be a bit of an alien at least in spirit. The first hint came at the gym. Our workouts are scheduled for 5 PM, but somehow we never start before 5:45. One day, as I arrived (on time, naturally), the coach chuckled and said, “The way you keep time, someone would think you’re not African.”

Then came the fruit incident. In an effort to eat more fruit daily, I started laying it out on my desk where I could see it all day. Out of sight, out of mind, right? But in sight into the stomach. It works. A colleague saw my fruity little display and laughed: “Why are you acting like you're in Europe? Relax, you're in Africa. That’s for white people.”

The final blow came from my loyal water flask. Every morning, I place it on my desk and make sure it’s empty by day’s end. Hydration is self-care, and my skin has never looked better. But one office visitor found this strange: “Why are you drinking all that water like a mzungu? You think you're better than us?”

And there it was. The pattern. Every habit I’ve worked hard to cultivate timeliness, healthy eating, staying hydrated is seen as "foreign." Not admirable. Not aspirational. Just suspiciously... un-African. But here’s what I believe: self-improvement is not cultural betrayal. Why should good habits be seen as imports? Why isn’t discipline, wellness, or intentional living celebrated as African too?

I’m not trying to be European. I’m trying to be better. And if that makes me an alien in my own land, then I’ll wear my green skin with pride. Because growth doesn’t need a passport and excellence isn’t bound by borders. So here’s to fruit, water, and showing up on time. Here’s to habits that make life richer. And here’s to aliens everywhere, quietly doing the work no matter how many eye rolls they get.