The last time I was asked ‘Where are you from?’ was recently at my local milk bar. I'd gone there to get some icy poles and use the ATM; It was one of those crazy hot summer days.
When I got there the lady serving me behind the counter was admiring my hair. She asked me where I was from. I told her I was from Ethiopia.
It's a question I get a lot, and one that I am not fazed by these days. I was happy to feed her curiosity. She went on to tell me about how some 30 years ago she had a perm and would rock the big hair. She was much older and took a moment to work out how old she was then responded with: ‘Oh shit, I'm 60 years old!’. It made me laugh.
She was funny and I felt comfortable having a dialogue about my hair with her.