The Rise and Fall of Noorita Menchu...

When I was in kindergarten, my mom told me that my name is my identity; it is who I am, and I shouldn't let people change it, especially to an easier and more "americanized" version. People had a habit of mispronouncing both my first and last names. Even now this is still the case. People I have known forever mispronounce my name...it does not actually rhyme with door or poor or whore (with this last one people think they are so clever; it's been done; and it doesn't really work!). The double o sound in my name sounds like the "oo" in poo...(lovely comparison I know...) but it is tricky because in English, when you add the r after the double o, it changes the sound to "oh"...poo does not have the same "o" sound as in poor.

My mom taught me to be proud of my name, and through that, my ethnic and cultural background, while sometimes sending contradictory messages, confusing to a 5-year old, such as, "Be proud of your heritage. Be proud of your name. You are Indian and Pakistani...but also American. You were born here, and when anyone asks you, you are American".

In kindergarten I would get into fights defending the honor of my name. I was so passionate about it; I didn't want to let my parents down. I mean hadn't they sacrificed everything for us in leaving their homelands and immigrating to a new world where their kids could be born and raised and have every advantage that they had missed out on?

As I got older, I don't know, maybe I gave up on the fight...I am not sure...or maybe I saw the truth of that age-old cliché--"what's in a name?"

I mean wasn't I always me, with or without my name? And what does that actually mean since identity is more fluid than solid? Aren't we always changing, adapting, learning, growing, etc., Or is my essence the same, my core? And while I have adapted to describing myself as "south-asian american," aren't I so much more than this?

For me at least, I came to realize that identity is both dynamic and fluid. It is not static; and I am so much more than a few descriptors...

So, I stopped correcting mispronunciations of my name, because at the end of the day, I figured, I am still me...or a version of me...

And then I got to Peace Corps Guatemala...and the spanish department recommended I change both my first and last name while I am here to make things easier on Guatemalans, and the fact that the first half of my last name sounds like a spanish swear word..."it would be vulgar and might cause problems later on in the communities," the teachers told me...

The kindergartner in me almost rose up and said, "My name is my name. My name is who I am...I won't change it just to makes things easier on Guatemalans." I was torn, I mean isn't the peace corps also about teaching locals about the DIVERSITY in the United States...wouldn't my name be a good starting off point? If I am learning about Guatemalan culture and trying hard to integrate, can't Guatemalan's meet me half way?

And then I met the Menchu family during training, and I took on an added element to my identity: Guatemalan daughter, sister, aunt, cousin.

They took me into their home and hearts. And during my second meal and first dinner with the family, who I immediately gelled with, we discussed my name and culture, and I told them how my last name was difficult to say and sounded like a swear word, and my host dad said to me, "well now you are our family; you are a Menchu!" And my host mom eagerly added, "Noorita (pronounced Norita, but I have to at least keep my spelling!) Menchu!"

And just like that, my Guatemalan alter-ego, "Noorita Menchu," was created...And I didn't mind. Because I was a part of their family, and it was done with cariño, with love. They weren't trying to change me or push me away for my differences, instead, they pulled me into their family.

But now, 18 months later I am making the decision to early COS; to graduate from the Peace Corps, in a sense, and move on to the next chapter of my life...and I wonder about how I have changed, what I have learned, and how I have grown from this experience...and I wonder who I am now.

I am definitely older (I have the white hairs to prove that one)...not sure about whether or not I am wiser...I feel changed, I am just not entirely sure in what manner I have changed...

But I do know it is time to retire Noorita Menchu...it is time to move on...but I am plagued by many a thought...

Am I still me? Am I better off now for having been here?

Did I get what I hoped I would out of the Peace Corps, even if it ended differently than I had imagined? (let's be honest, the whole thing was different than what I had imagined...)

I guess these are a few things I will be processing for a while...

And...While I pack up my house, get ready to leave site and then Guatemala, I wonder all these things, and I feel a mixture of nostalgia and sadness, and it is overwhelming. I realize I have a lot to sort through, physically with all the crap I have accumulated in the last 18 months, and emotionally, with all the feelings and memories I have stored up since coming to this country...

But mostly, I feel grateful. I did this. I came here. I had this amazing opportunity and experience. I tried and gave it my all. I have no regrets...This isn't giving up. This is just moving on.

And I know that it is time to retire Noorita Menchu...and it is time for me to return to reality...whatever that is...