The Aftershock.
Several of my local friends here have asked me if I have changed since living in the country. I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. Of course I’ve changed, but I don’t think I’m yet aware of all the changes that I’ve undergone. I think it’s too early to tell because I am not back home yet. I think once I’m back in my usual surroundings, the ones that I’ve known my whole life, the differences will be much more apparent. Being in Turkey, I noticed a few, superficial differences, but I tried not to acknowledge them because I didn’t want to take away from my vacation there, I just wanted to soak everything up. Plus, I made a promise to myself that when I go home, I won’t be “that girl” who lectures people about what it’s like to experience poverty, and how grateful we should be for everything and how we shouldn’t complain about trivial minutiae. I caught myself falling into that trap with my family. For two weeks, I found that it was easier to revert to my old self, thinking I was somehow entitled to what has been given to me… a personality trait much worse than raising awareness about my experiences and life here. I felt like I was in this in-between position where I didn’t like the images of my past, but I am still unsure about how I want to project my future.
I told my Russian teacher a few of the things I noticed and she laughed at all of them. For instance, the first day, my dad said his usual schpeal about leaving ourselves enough time to take a shower and get ready in the morning. I was like, oh I don’t need to wake up early, I just took a bucket bath yesterday. My entire family gave me this cock-eyed look that read, Get In The Shower. Everyday. Then we were eating dinner one night, family style where we were just sharing a bunch of plates, and I started eating salad out of this platter. My brother said something to the effect of, “what do you think you’re doing, put it on your own plate.” I can’t even count the number of times when I’ve been guesting and we all just eat out of the same communal plate. I wanted to tell him he was lucky I was eating something solid, like salad. But I bit my tongue, because I didn’t want to be ‘that girl’. I got several strange looks over the course of our time spent together. Someone even made the comment that I need a “welcome back to civilization” but I didn’t think that there was anything wrong with my actions.
The times I did try to tell stories about my life and experiences, people’s eyes seemed to glaze over. I guess when people don’t have a former reference for something, they are easily bored by what they don’t know. I don’t know, as great as it was to see everyone and do these amazing things, by the end of the trip I felt withdrawn; I won’t say I felt ‘replaced’ I will just say that I felt like I didn’t belong to that life anymore. Of all the stories I heard, I was no longer a part of them and I won’t be apart of it for another year and a half. As much as I was nervous about going back, I felt like my hand washing all my laundry more closely reflected who I am then when I gave it to our servants to do.
Looking back in retrospect it was such a bizarre phenomenon… leaving a country who I’ve known for 9 months, being completely self-sufficient, learning a new language, dealing with little daily struggles of getting around to enter a world where I was greeted by my ‘former self’ in this unreal world where everything was done for me. As many beautiful, maginificent things we saw outside, I have to say that it juxtaposed an uglier inner self that I hope was and will remain the “old me”.
I told my Russian teacher a few of the things I noticed and she laughed at all of them. For instance, the first day, my dad said his usual schpeal about leaving ourselves enough time to take a shower and get ready in the morning. I was like, oh I don’t need to wake up early, I just took a bucket bath yesterday. My entire family gave me this cock-eyed look that read, Get In The Shower. Everyday. Then we were eating dinner one night, family style where we were just sharing a bunch of plates, and I started eating salad out of this platter. My brother said something to the effect of, “what do you think you’re doing, put it on your own plate.” I can’t even count the number of times when I’ve been guesting and we all just eat out of the same communal plate. I wanted to tell him he was lucky I was eating something solid, like salad. But I bit my tongue, because I didn’t want to be ‘that girl’. I got several strange looks over the course of our time spent together. Someone even made the comment that I need a “welcome back to civilization” but I didn’t think that there was anything wrong with my actions.
The times I did try to tell stories about my life and experiences, people’s eyes seemed to glaze over. I guess when people don’t have a former reference for something, they are easily bored by what they don’t know. I don’t know, as great as it was to see everyone and do these amazing things, by the end of the trip I felt withdrawn; I won’t say I felt ‘replaced’ I will just say that I felt like I didn’t belong to that life anymore. Of all the stories I heard, I was no longer a part of them and I won’t be apart of it for another year and a half. As much as I was nervous about going back, I felt like my hand washing all my laundry more closely reflected who I am then when I gave it to our servants to do.
Looking back in retrospect it was such a bizarre phenomenon… leaving a country who I’ve known for 9 months, being completely self-sufficient, learning a new language, dealing with little daily struggles of getting around to enter a world where I was greeted by my ‘former self’ in this unreal world where everything was done for me. As many beautiful, maginificent things we saw outside, I have to say that it juxtaposed an uglier inner self that I hope was and will remain the “old me”.
posted by Katie P. at 2:07 AM
1 Comments:
Hey Kate, I'm living in Qatar and am thinking of moving to Bishtek for a stint of volunteerism. I'm friends with Christian Allgood, he gave me your name. Can I email you sometime about it?
johnmarquiss@gmail.com
- John :-)
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