How Green Becomes Wood

"Ya hamar!" Dark huffed, pinching his fingers together and waving one hand at Xander, "You have lived with me for how long and you do not know what my people are called? Wallah, he is my son, I adopt him, and he does not know! Ee-ray-key-in," He over emphasized Xander's mistake, "I cannot even ask what they teach you in American schools, ya hamar, you were in my class! But you are Amerish, I see now!"
 
Xander set his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek on his fist. "Uh, yep, I'm Amerish. And I've lived with you for a long time and I still don't know the different between Iraqian and... what, Iraq-I?" He said the last syllable like eye rather than a long E.
 
Dark pinched the bridge of his nose while Daizi took careful track of how many times he managed to call Xander a donkey in one conversation. He was bound to break some sort of record.

"Iraqi, ya hamar," Dark corrected, and waved the 'okay' symbol, "How have you missed this? Habibi, do you not listen? Iraqi!" He gestured to Ivy with one hand, "What is she going to think, eh?"
 
"That her brother is some form of Iraqian donkey?" Xander suggested mildly. "That'll be interesting for her to grow up with. Seriously, though, what's wrong with Iraquian?"
 
"You are a donkey but you are not any sort of Iraqi," Dark replied flatly, "and it is wrong, because it is not what we call ourselves. You would not call a Polish person Polian, or a someone who is French Franish. I understand not knowing what people native to Bosnia and Herzegovina are called, but you have lived with me for over a year, and you have heard me speak, and you should know what my people are called. Could you even find it on a map!" He sat back indignantly, and then almost immediately sat back upright, "Could you find Iraq on a map?"
 
Xander frowned and rubbed his chin. "Um, maybe. I'm probably more likely to be able to than Alec."

"You leave me out of this, ya hamar," Alec called from where he was washing dishes.

"Do you have a map?" Xander asked.
 
"Do I have a map!" Dark scoffed, standing up, "I will get our globe, and block out the countries." With that, he strode out of the room, and after she trusted he was out of earshot, Daizi finally allowed herself to laugh.

"You really stepped in it with that," She shook her head, "Iraqian? Really?"
 
Xander smirked. "I'd feel guiltier if that wasn't one of the funniest things I've seen in a while," he confided. "I don't pay enough attention to things like that. I don't even care if someone says 'Amerish.' Yeah, I know, I should, but let me enjoy this for now."
 
"You know how proud he is," Daizi chuckled, ruffling her own hair.

Upstairs, Dark was carefully cutting up sticky notes to block out country names--not only those in the Middle East, but all of the countries in Europe, Asia, and Africa. When he was halfway finished, he realized he could have more easily printed out a blank map, but he was in too deep at this point, and once he was satisfied, he came back downstairs and set the globe down in front of Xander. "There, ya hamar," He said, "I trust you enough to know I am not from North or South America."
 
"That took you so long I was beginning to think you were making a globe from scratch," Xander told him. He leaned forward to study the globe. "Do you want me to point and say the names, then? What if you get one wrong?"
 
"You just need to find Iraq," Dark told him, "but if I only covered one country's name, it would be pretty easy for you to point it out. Find Iraq on the map, I made sure not to cover the border lines."
 
"Okay," Xander shrugged. He gave the globe a spin, locked eyes with Dark, and while the glode was spinning, plunked his finger on the spot between Saudia Arabia, Iran, and Syria. "There. At the top of the Arabian peninsula."

Alec came over and looked over Xander's shoulder. He raised his brows, impressed, and nodded. He was behind Xander, so Xander couldn't see his approval.
 
"Hm." Dark exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't sure if Xander actually knew the spot or if he got lucky, but in either case, he leaned in and said, "You can find it on a map but cannot use your ears to learn what the people are called?"

"Can you find Egypt on a map?" Daizi asked, a little giggle sneaking out.
 
"Egyptian," Dark corrected, although he did recognize Xander was instigating him, but it was the principle of the thing, "It is our entire heritage and cultural legacy, it has value, the word matters!"
 
Again, Dark pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath, "So much of your education, gone to waste." He turned to look forlornly at his amused daughter, "You, my daughter, have better learn the proper words, it is your own heritage."
 
"Question," Alec said, raising a hand. "Are we now supposed to adopt your heritage, or are we supposed to focus on our Irish heritage? And if we adopt yours, how do we answer cultural appropriation claims?"
 
Daizi had been scratching behind her ear, but stopped at this question, leaving her hand still up as she thought this through. It hadn't exactly occurred to her before, "Your heritage... does not change..." she answered slowly, although the way her eyebrows furrowed suggested she was thinking it through, "because your heritage is what you are born with, whereas... culture is what you grow into and around, so you will have... ties to Egyptian-Iraqi culture, but it is not part of your heritage, because heritage is inherited, whereas culture is taught. You and Xander have Irish heritage, but I would not even say you have much of a connection to Irish culture, you grew up in white American culture and now in the latter years of your teens you are being exposed to a small pocket of Arab culture."
 
"That makes sense," Alec agreed. "I hadn't fully separated heritage from culture, which is a rookie mistake. No, we have basically no Irish culture whatsoever, but I think we are starting to absorb Arab culture bit by bit. That's going to be interesting later in life."

Xander, for his part, seeing that the conversation had moved away from dismay at his mistake, had started picking all the sticky notes off the globe. He kept whatever useable pieces he could in one pile and set aside the rest to be trashed. When he was finished, he picked up the globe and the papers to put away.
 
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