Personal Narrative: Eagle Lake

“Where are you from?” The question for me, has always been conflicting. You would ask my mom and dad the question and they would not hesitate for a second before letting “Beledweyne,” or “Somalia.” fall from their mouths. All my other siblings who were born in America would probably answer the question with “Mankato,” or “Eagle Lake,” maybe even “Minnesota.” and not put any thought into it. I however have put plenty of thought into in. Maybe too much thought.
I was born in the southern city of Beledweyne, Somalia. My mom and dad constantly recall childhood memories about their hometown. Apart of me wants to understand desperately and relate to their memories, about things like the vastness of the Shebelle River or the large number of camels

my grandpa owned. No matter how hard I try, I can barely relate to any of their stories. You see, I might have been born in Somalia, but I came here at the age of two. I was basically raised here in Mankato, Minnesota. I am apart of what is called the Somali Diaspora.
I remember my early years of my life in a blue, average sized apartment. My family only consisted of my parents, younger brother and sister, and me. I lived without a care in the world, as many children do. Our neighbors were mostly other Somali families, and other people of color. It wasn’t until my parents dropped the sentence “We’re moving.” when everything changed.
We moved from North Mankato, Minnesota, to right across town in Eagle Lake, Minnesota. It wasn’t a major change of scenery. There were a lot more corn fields and quietness throughout the day. I hated it. I felt like my parent’s were punishing me. “Why did we move to the middle of nowhere?” I would ask constantly. It would get to the point where my parents my parents would not answer the question, but just give me the side eye.