Reflection From July 4

It was a perfect summer day…but the streets of my town were empty …so quite. People were gathering inside their house with family members and friends and having barbeque…. part of the tradition in celebrating July 4, the nation’s birthday. Later in the day, people started to come out and were heading to the stadium, where the city I live celebrates July 4.
I closed my books and decide to join the crowd…. after all it is Independence day…and I will share the joy of the day with the people. By the time I reached the stadium, it was already crowded. Families were making groups everywhere with their kids, balloons and flags in their hand. On four corners of the crowd, there was small stages with musicians playing Independence Day songs. Some people were dancing, others were taking pictures and others were walking around.
I walked between the crowd and took a sit on one corner, where I can get a good view. The atmosphere was so colorful and people were happy…. celebrating their nation’s 232 birthday!!! And I enjoyed it…I almost felt part of them. I said almost, because I was a little bit uneasy…....it seemed like I am missing something. ….I don’t know what it is….
…Oh! I remembered. I know what it is now. It is the Independence poem. I usually write one for independence day….and read to the crowd in my small town on May 24. Oh yea…. the joy, the pride and the glory of Independence Day. And how I enjoyed reading my poem to the crowd. Now I don’t have Independence Day poem and I will not read to the crowd ….I wondered if I will read once again…
Most of the time, I blame my self for having such intense nationalistic view. But, today I assured my self I shouldn't. People here are celebrating 232th independence day ….232 years later and yet their pride is so intense as if it was only a few years. To me, the meaning of independence day is a first hand experience…it is not something from the history books. I have seen the ugly and cruel face of colonialism with my own eyes…..I have prayed for Independence at an age I shouldn’t pray. I have seen first hand the sacrifices made to it…I have lost my own classmates for it….and I have seen the joy my people felt when we get our independence….And yes, I should have a special feeling for it. The connection is right there…. not 232 years back.
As I thought about the pride that comes with Independence day, I thought about being immigrant. The immigrant communities and their children and grand children. What do they celebrate on July 4? How do they get the sense of pride I feel on may 24 or the sense of pride the people here are having? Take, for example, the “Eritrean Americans”. Do they celebrate July 4, like the other Americans? And if they do, what feelings do they have on July 4? how do they connect them selves with the real owners of the story?…..I mean…I asked my self. Perhaps, now as long as their parents are around, they will celebrate May 24. But two generations later, their grand children will nor more be ERN American…rather they will be African American…..and then, they will celebrate July 4…not May 24. I thought may be it is all the same …it is Independence day. But, then how will they be able relate to July 4? Will it generate the same sense of pride as Independence day does for me? Or will they feel the same sense of pride as the rest of nation? Will they say “this is the day our founding fathers declared….”? I got confused with my own question….
And it was a huge applaud from the crowd that took my attention away from the questions and back to the stage. A young girl, may be 9 to 11 years old, with a flag on her cap, was taking the stage. She sang “independence song” and the crowd applaud her…..and another young girl of similar age, took the mic and read a poem…..it was Independence day poem!
She praised her grand…grand … grand fathers for their courage and vision that created the present day America and the freedom and opportunity it provide to her…. and she promised to keep the sprit of their goal.
The crowd, once again, roared with a huge applaud and the girl beamed in smile. Her father was taking a picture …..trying to capture the precious moment of her independence day….
I smiled with my self…. imagining, one day, my little girl will also read independence poem to the crowd and I will be taking the picture…
But then, I asked my self, if that will happen…... if she will read independence day poem….and if she does, what will the lines of her poem read……

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