The Ashongs were still in Qatar when the Gulf War broke out. Their work prevented them from leaving the country, and the kids spent much of their time in a tiny bedroom with sealed windows and gas masks.

In 1991, with the conclusion of the war, the Ashong family settled in Voorhees, a well-heeled suburb in south New Jersey. The public school he attended there was safe--"It wasn't one of those schools where he had to dodge bullets," his father, Dr. Emmanuel Ashong says with evident relief--but Ashong found that Eastern Senior High had its own traps.

His experiences and his confidence didn't endear him to the Eastern kids. Neither did his color.

Eastern boasts of its diversity and its high college acceptance rates. But between those two stats lies a strict color line. Ashong and his best friend were the only two black students in Advanced Placement courses, and his parents had to argue with the administration to get him into those classes.

"We had some racial issues at our school," Ashong says flatly. "When it came time to go to college, people would tell me, you can't go here, you can't go there. There hadn't ever been a black kid who had gone to Harvard from my school."

Even if high school was "a means to an end," as he says, it did make him into who he is today, renewing his interest in his African roots. It crystallized his interest in Afro-American history and culture, and externally at least, Americanized him.

"I am an African."

At first glance, Ashong appears to be a typical American college student. He wears a black leather jacket and chunky loafers. He loves rap and Prince and "In Living Color." He has pool parties each summer. His accent--long a's and clipped o's--is buried beneath student slang and an Afro-American inflection.

However, Ashong makes it very clear that despite his various travels, he is neither international nor American. Though his earliest memories are of Brooklyn, he is African. His baritone hardens when he says this, as if he's pounding his voice on the table in front of him. "I feel very much more at home in Ghana than in America," he says. "I don't feel like America fully accepts me, but I have somewhere I am better accepted, so why would I want to be an American?"

He catches himself and eases off, slipping from declaration into explanation. "I've been here since I was three years old on and off, so I definitely do have ties to American culture, especially strong ties and affinity to Afro American culture," he says.

But his homeland is one in which he has spent no more than five years of his life, including a junior semester abroad. His values and much of his family are still located in the hills of West Africa.

Ashong's father, Emmanuel, grew up poor in Accra, speaking Ga, Akan, and the King's English. As a third year medical student, he married a young nurse of royal background. Her father was born to become the chief of the Larteh people but declined to be enstooled. Nonetheless, Stella Asiedu-Akrofi Ashong and her family retained the privileges and obligations of Ghanian royalty

"It is a matter of responsibility and leadership among your people. You are expected to live an exemplary life as a result of the privileges which come to you," Dr. Ashong explains.

Ashong's parents were strict about maintaining Ghanian culture in the home, giving their frequently uprooted children a firm sense of self.

The closeness of the family--he still calls his parents Mommy and Daddy, and he is devoted to his younger sister, nicknamed "Sweetie"--made arduous self-discipline into a labor of love.