What is the speaker in Countée Cullen's poem, "Heritage," trying to define?

In Countée Cullen's "Heritage," the speaker is trying to
define his place in the world. Africa is at times simply a place that he has read about,
but at other times it seems to be so much more.

The poem
begins with, "What is Africa to me…" He describes it with beautiful
images:

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Copper sun or scarlet
sea…

...Strong bronzed men, or regal
back

Women from whose loins I
sprang…

The speaker
acknowledges that his ancestors were from Africa, but he ends the stanza with the same
question: "What is Africa to me?"

The phrase "So I lie" is
used repeatedly, stressing the amount of time that the speaker spends trying to
comprehend what Africa is to him now. He may be descended from
Africans, but to what end? He lies wanting only to hear the sounds of the jungles and
plains: the "barbaric birds," the "massive jungle herds..." He imagines young lovers
pledging their devotion. However, there is also a contradiction, as though the sounds he
hears haunt him—he tries to block them out.

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So I lie, who always
hear,

Though I cram against my
ear

Both my thumbs, and keep them
there,

Great drums throbbing through the
air.

The reader "sees" a
picture painted of a man pulled in several directions: belonging to a Africa and pulling
away from it. He speaks of pride, distress and joy in "somber flesh and
skin."

Establishing some distance from this "emotional"
subject, the speaker describes Africa like a book one reads to put himself to
sleep:

Africa?
A book one thumbs

Listlessly, till slumber
comes.

He lists details in
that book that might be forgotten: the bats, the "cats," and snakes that shed their
skin. The book does not capture the essence of the place, the fragrance of flowers,
rain, or "spicy grove, cinnamon tree…" And yet again, he asks, "What is Africa to
me?"

The image of a haunting comes again: he describes the
rain and what it does to him…"Like a soul gone mad with pain / I must match its weird
refrain" (or melody). It calls him to strip off the essence of who he is—separated from
his "heritage"—to put on "This new exuberance. / Come and dance the Lover's Dance!" He
notes that "in an old remembered way," as if he has the memories of his
forefathers—though he has never walked upon that land—the rain makes him think of
Africa, and it calls to him.

In a
transition, the speaker makes reference now to the gods of Africa, and then notes that
he is a follower of Jesus Christ; he seems to feel some guilt over
a "conversion" that has taken him from the "heathen gods" of his ancestors. He alludes
to Christ—the man and his teachings—"Preacher of humility…", "Jesus of the twice-turned
cheek…" And although he says he speaks the words of faith, part of him struggles that he
must believe in a white god—in his heart he wants Jesus to be someone he can feel he has
something in common with:

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Wishing He I served were
black,

Thinking then it would not
lack

Precedent of pain to guide
it...

In this way, he thinks
that maybe Jesus would understand the speaker's life better: "surely then this flesh
would know / Yours had borne a kindred woe." The man saying these words believes enough,
however, that he asks the Lord to forgive him if his humanity affects his perceptions of
Christ. His need to know himself and where he fits into the world, is something he works
daily to repress—afraid it might overcome him:

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Lest I perish in the
flood.

Lest a hidden ember
set

Timber that I thought was
wet

Burning like the dryest
flax,

Melting like the merest
wax...