My Nepali DNA!

ROSHAN KARKI

Last Christmas, I gave away my spit but the very next month,
the DNA results came back making me feel: Not-So-Special
“Who am I?”
This selfie question often reverberates in my head, even more so at times when my Nepali identity (ego) is questioned, challenged, or brushed aside by an Indian stamp far away from home. Over the years, this insecurity has been fueled by overtones of ethnic federalism—an idea entrenched on differences we possess as Nepalis, along the lines of caste, creed, color, and culture. The ambiguous talks on identity issues by journalists, scholars, and op-ed writers from Nepal have done little to ease my dilemma. The question resurfaced again in one of those Chiya-Chats at my Alma Mater in Connecticut among the most diverse, passionate, and intelligent Nepali students I’ve ever interacted with. Beyond the usual fervor of Mount Everest and Buddha, we seemed perplexed about our Nepali identity: whether to associate with our country, align with our ethnic group, or defer to our place of birth.

What is it that makes me uniquely Nepali? What is it about my caste that bestows me with unprecedented privileges? As a scientist of sorts, I decided to tackle this by probing into my own DNA— literally! Well, sort of. Last Christmas, a heated debate arose with my Indian colleague about Buddha’s genealogy, and I instinctively wanted to learn about my genetic lineage. You know, anything for Science (and Nepali Ego). So, we both signed up online with 23andMe, a Google-backed startup, which is also one of the most popular direct-to-consumers (DTC) DNA testing companies in the market. Within days, a colorful kit arrived. We spit saliva in the provided tube as instructed, sealed the box, and shipped it off for analysis.

The next month, the DNA results from my saliva were made available on the web—stratified by health risks (currently restricted by the US government) and the much anticipated ancestry results. My very own Nepali ancestry. I was psyched! So, what is unique about my Nepali DNA? Nothing. Really.
Allow me to explain.

My DNA ancestry analysis shows that I have about 75 percent South Asian, 10 percent Native American (East Asian), and 0.4 percent of European heritage. The rest is currently unassigned, owing to the small sample size of South Asians who have taken the test. I am also endowed with nearly 3 percent of the Neanderthals, our closest but extinct human relatives.

The 75 percent South Asian simply means I share the majority of my heritage with my neighbors from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and probably Sri Lanka. Our common and curious early ancestors hopped out of Africa and traveled down along the coast reaching South Asia very early and populated the entire sub-continent. The 10 percent Native American heritage was indeed intriguing at first, but recent studies have unequivocally proven that their ancestors are also simply Asians that took a long journey into the Americas, the last continent to be populated.

The same East Asians must have bonded with my ancestors or vice versa at some point in history under the pretext of food, shelter, and pleasure. Either way, the ignition of such a pleasure made a lasting impression of nearly 10 percent on my DNA, the same genetic signature probably found among many other ethnic groups of Nepal. I should confess that I was rather disappointed with the 0.4 percent of my European heritage. The lack of blond and perceived “smart” features means no Nepali bureaucrat will want to cajole me like they do with Western European and American donors during their visits to Nepal. Worse, this tiny European DNA fragment will not suffice to avoid “random” checks at US airports that I keep getting myself into. Shah Rukh Khan—I feel your pain!
The lineage of my maternal and paternal line is mediocre at best. My mother’s lineage can be traced back to the large branch of DNA family tree that arose nearly 60,000 years ago FOA (Fresh-Off-Africa), long before any misogynist could conjure up eccentric stories about the need to subjugate women in our culture. You might ask the obvious question: Is my mother African then? The answer is a resounding yes, but so is yours. In fact, we’re all simply children of Africa. A tough pill to swallow for some, I guess. But surely not as tough as finding my paternal line may have originated somewhere in an ordinary tribal village in the vicinity of present day Andra Pradesh.

Things went from bad to worse when my Indian colleague shared his DNA results with a coy smile. His paternal line seemed to have interesting lineage arising in Eastern Europe, much to his colonial delight. Even the indications of my paternal lineage being found in interesting places like Bali, Cambodia and among Romas could do little to alleviate this painful fact: my Nepali father is more Indian than my Indian colleague’s quintessentially Indian father from Gujarat. So much for the Nepali pride!

What about the 2.8 percent of the Neanderthal genes in me? Historically, it tells us that our great and wise human ancestors, the Homo sapiens were also Homo promiscuous that they did more than just date with the Neanderthals when they first encountered them. The remnant of such an adventure is safely preserved in my DNA (and in all humans), but I’ll argue that their supposed feral nature is exhibited even today by Nepali compatriots more reassuringly: either bickering in the parliament like dogs for bones (or cash), or destroying the infrastructure built by others without any respect, or simply burning tires, chairs, and soaking the streets orange with stolen bricks without any apathy. Oh Yes! It is very well preserved.

I had only begun to make peace with my DNA results, when I received an email about the relative finder from the same DNA testing company. To my pleasant surprise, a handful of other Nepalis have also conducted this test recently, and their DNA aligns so well with mine that most of them are designated as my third to fifth cousins. The same cousins—many of whom we’ve discriminated for centuries under the pretense of being different. However, this irrevocable evidence of kinship resonates in our DNA fostered through thousands of years of trials and tribulations—a genetic bond that can’t simply be broken or dismissed by any existing technology today and transcends the rhetoric of ethnic, cultural, and linguistic differences.

In this context, the designation of higher and lower castes, ethnocentric practices, and racial barriers that continues to plague the social fabric of our society is absurd, antiquated, and needs abolishment. We’re inherently and irrefutably much closer to one another than our politicians and scholars would have us believed. Maybe, just maybe, this should be the focal point for a nation of diversity to move forward with? At this brilliant epiphany, I began to grow emotional.

Well, emotional yes, but all too briefly. It soon transformed into agony at the thought of all my national cousins. Conjugally speaking, I began to feel uncomfortable. Perhaps, this whole notion of knowing oneself through the DNA is plain silly. But surely, not nearly as silly as trying to find a punch line through WHAM’s throwback song, the lyrics of which I embarrassingly don’t know beyond the first two lines!

The author is a Research Associate at Western Connecticut Health Network and has a Phd from Yale University. rossi34@gmail.com

Work originally published on: http://myrepublica.com/portal/index.php?action=news_details&news_id=72517&fb_action_ids=10152406952152774&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_ref=.U0rEmGxwHOc.like