Yesterday, I got lost. Utterly and totally lost.
I had dropped the girls at school and had 3 errands to run.
1) collect my phone which was with "a guy" getting its microphone fixed
2) return books to the library and pick out some new ones.
3) And just so you don't think my life in India is too exotic and exciting, pick up toilet bowl cleaner and bread.
#3 was an easy one because the shop opens up early. So after I dropped the girls off I zipped down to Loyal World and breezed through the empty store because the foreign yoga students are recovering from their sunrise classes and the Indians aren't finished with breakfast yet. As I didn't have my phone, I had no idea of the time but I took a chance and headed to Spice telecom store to take care of #1. It of course was not open. In fact nothing in the mall was open. There was just me and some kid skipping school walking around. Onto #2. Instead of backtracking and heading down roads I knew I took a chance and tried to wing it.
There are reasons we choose the partners in life that we do. One of my reasons for choosing Marvel, unbeknownst to me, is his fine sense of direction. The GPS was made for folks like me. When we lived in DC, before our iPhone and Google Maps, I would head out to do something, miss my turn, get totally lost, start crying, circle round on 495 and then drag myself home again. For 2 years I did this.
So I kept looking up and at the horizon as if that would help. I tried to turn in the direction I felt like I should head. This took me down roads with homes that look similar to homes of my relatives and I felt ok. Some turns took me down roads that took me out of my comfort zone. Half-clothed kids, lots of dogs, houses smaller than my bedroom, people just sitting in doorways. The poor sections of town. The daily wage workers. The maids. The cooks. I had to keep telling myself aloud that I was ok. I had gas. I had money. I was going to be fine. Really there is no "bad" section of Mysore. It is all fairly safe.
It is difficult to be in another culture and in a different place. At the time I truly felt I had to put myself out there and trust the folks around me. I stopped for gas and asked the attendant how to get back to Kalidasa Rd basically the only road name I know. He gave me vague directions but headed me in the right direction. I stopped again and asked 3 guys on motorcycles. More vagueness but still heading in the right direction. I asked an auto driver and he gave me clear directions in English. It was only then did I feel my body relax and I allowed myself to 1) stop talking to myself, 2) breathe normally and 3) reflect on what had just happened.
I have been reading about the Trayvon Martin incident. It feels me with sadness for Trayvon's family. I am angry with that hyped-up, racist vigilante who judged Trayvon by the color of his skin, was fearful of someone different and decided without a doubt that this young, black boy was dangerous. And I am furious with the police who do absolutely nothing to attempt to right this tremendous wrong. I am disheartened for all the parents of black boys who have to once again tell their children that they have to overcompensate for some folks who allow their prejudices rule their actions.
Prejudices are slowly subsiding. People are changing, I know. But we have to want this change. We have to work hard to make these changes deep within ourselves. I think about my irrational fear just because I was driving down a road with folks who lived differently than myself. For me the fear had nothing to do with skin color, but with the unknown thought processes of these people. People I never really spend time with, unless it is to watch them dig a ditch in my apartment complex or to tell them just how I want my food cooked or to resent them because they want to charge me 10 extra rupees to ride in their auto.
Two weeks ago, my cook and my cleaner invited us to a festival in their neighborhood. Marvel was not able to go. It was in the middle of Flip's nap. Star was at school and I had to return to pick her up on time. These were all the reasons I told myself I could not go. The real reason was it might be uncomfortable. What if they offered me food? Would I risk getting ill and eat it? What if there were people there who saw my white skin and decided I was an easy target? How many times would I have to explain that YES, Flip is my daughter. YES, she is Indian. And YES, she looks just like her Indian father? The thought of going to an unknown festival by myself in an unknown area made me uncomfortable and I avoided it.
This little wrong turn has made me think very hard about the ways I am working to make a change. I am very proud of my family for moving half way across the world to live. I am proud of my girls adjusting to an Indian lifestyle, making friends and trying to communicate in a new language. I love my home town. For such a small city it has a lot of cultural diversity and we do our best to soak it in. We do our best to embrace differences and yes, I will even admit to actively trying to build a rainbow of friends. But is it enough? Will my kids still have irrational fears if they make a wrong turn in a strange city? Will they still have to hear awful tales such as Trayvon's?
In the end, the road the auto driver directed me to ended up across the street from the library, so task #2 was completely easily. Task #3 still took a couple more days, as is the way in India. But now the phone is back and in working condition. I am hoping for another not to be missed invitation from our cook and cleaner. Perhaps we will attempt the city bus for fun or maybe even a second class rail ticket.
I had dropped the girls at school and had 3 errands to run.
1) collect my phone which was with "a guy" getting its microphone fixed
2) return books to the library and pick out some new ones.
3) And just so you don't think my life in India is too exotic and exciting, pick up toilet bowl cleaner and bread.
#3 was an easy one because the shop opens up early. So after I dropped the girls off I zipped down to Loyal World and breezed through the empty store because the foreign yoga students are recovering from their sunrise classes and the Indians aren't finished with breakfast yet. As I didn't have my phone, I had no idea of the time but I took a chance and headed to Spice telecom store to take care of #1. It of course was not open. In fact nothing in the mall was open. There was just me and some kid skipping school walking around. Onto #2. Instead of backtracking and heading down roads I knew I took a chance and tried to wing it.
There are reasons we choose the partners in life that we do. One of my reasons for choosing Marvel, unbeknownst to me, is his fine sense of direction. The GPS was made for folks like me. When we lived in DC, before our iPhone and Google Maps, I would head out to do something, miss my turn, get totally lost, start crying, circle round on 495 and then drag myself home again. For 2 years I did this.
So I kept looking up and at the horizon as if that would help. I tried to turn in the direction I felt like I should head. This took me down roads with homes that look similar to homes of my relatives and I felt ok. Some turns took me down roads that took me out of my comfort zone. Half-clothed kids, lots of dogs, houses smaller than my bedroom, people just sitting in doorways. The poor sections of town. The daily wage workers. The maids. The cooks. I had to keep telling myself aloud that I was ok. I had gas. I had money. I was going to be fine. Really there is no "bad" section of Mysore. It is all fairly safe.
It is difficult to be in another culture and in a different place. At the time I truly felt I had to put myself out there and trust the folks around me. I stopped for gas and asked the attendant how to get back to Kalidasa Rd basically the only road name I know. He gave me vague directions but headed me in the right direction. I stopped again and asked 3 guys on motorcycles. More vagueness but still heading in the right direction. I asked an auto driver and he gave me clear directions in English. It was only then did I feel my body relax and I allowed myself to 1) stop talking to myself, 2) breathe normally and 3) reflect on what had just happened.
I have been reading about the Trayvon Martin incident. It feels me with sadness for Trayvon's family. I am angry with that hyped-up, racist vigilante who judged Trayvon by the color of his skin, was fearful of someone different and decided without a doubt that this young, black boy was dangerous. And I am furious with the police who do absolutely nothing to attempt to right this tremendous wrong. I am disheartened for all the parents of black boys who have to once again tell their children that they have to overcompensate for some folks who allow their prejudices rule their actions.
Prejudices are slowly subsiding. People are changing, I know. But we have to want this change. We have to work hard to make these changes deep within ourselves. I think about my irrational fear just because I was driving down a road with folks who lived differently than myself. For me the fear had nothing to do with skin color, but with the unknown thought processes of these people. People I never really spend time with, unless it is to watch them dig a ditch in my apartment complex or to tell them just how I want my food cooked or to resent them because they want to charge me 10 extra rupees to ride in their auto.
Two weeks ago, my cook and my cleaner invited us to a festival in their neighborhood. Marvel was not able to go. It was in the middle of Flip's nap. Star was at school and I had to return to pick her up on time. These were all the reasons I told myself I could not go. The real reason was it might be uncomfortable. What if they offered me food? Would I risk getting ill and eat it? What if there were people there who saw my white skin and decided I was an easy target? How many times would I have to explain that YES, Flip is my daughter. YES, she is Indian. And YES, she looks just like her Indian father? The thought of going to an unknown festival by myself in an unknown area made me uncomfortable and I avoided it.
This little wrong turn has made me think very hard about the ways I am working to make a change. I am very proud of my family for moving half way across the world to live. I am proud of my girls adjusting to an Indian lifestyle, making friends and trying to communicate in a new language. I love my home town. For such a small city it has a lot of cultural diversity and we do our best to soak it in. We do our best to embrace differences and yes, I will even admit to actively trying to build a rainbow of friends. But is it enough? Will my kids still have irrational fears if they make a wrong turn in a strange city? Will they still have to hear awful tales such as Trayvon's?
In the end, the road the auto driver directed me to ended up across the street from the library, so task #2 was completely easily. Task #3 still took a couple more days, as is the way in India. But now the phone is back and in working condition. I am hoping for another not to be missed invitation from our cook and cleaner. Perhaps we will attempt the city bus for fun or maybe even a second class rail ticket.
it's just amazing what is still going on in that subconscious of ours that we have to deal with...proud of you for having this conversation with yourself.
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