Both/And: A Memoir

“It is common sense to take a method and try it. If it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something.”

My father was curiosity itself. Whether with a bellman or a prince, he would strike up unexpected conversations. Sometimes, he would hear someone’s accent and tell them he had traveled to their country and had written about it and wanted to hear their story.

We honor the dream by doing the work. —Cleo Wade

That fork in the road, a quarter of a century ago, when I left a family wedding to embark on the great unknown, turned into the most unexpected journey, the next step in a path my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother had cleared for me. It took me to a place that was worth every ounce of effort, commitment, and sacrifice required to get there

Happy is the man who avoids hardship, but how fine is the man who is afflicted and shows endurance.

The grab bag of my identity served me well in Abuja. This had always been the case, ever since childhood, except for one critical aspect of my background, the weight of which I would not appreciate until I was older: being of both Indian and Pakistani heritage.

We adapted in ways that made sense to my parents, letting go of cultural traditions that were no longer practical while holding on to the customs and practices that were important to them.

As we sat down for lunch afterward, I realized how serene and settled I felt. Something I had never felt before. Surrounded by the people I loved most and who loved me. There was no agenda, no one was pulling out briefing cards or talking about the goals of the gathering. We were just there to be there. In fact, we were there for me.

But on another scale, the decisions individuals make about their private lives, like a young girl’s demand that she be taken to school in defiance of prevailing cultural norms, also have surprising—and long-lasting—consequences.