It is sometimes easy to think of myself as a rock-solid, laser-focused uber-teacher who has all her ducks in a row (how's that for mixed metaphors?) when life has a way of revealing to me that at heart I can be a real space cadet. As my genius plan for the day has completely imploded, I write.
I was to drive in for an overnight in Austin early with two hours to spare before getting a cavity filled by my dentist. I would drop off my bags at my friend's house and head to the Starbucks closest to my dentist to work on a boring school curriculum course I am woefully behind in.
What really happened was this: I slept fitfully the night before, delaying my wake-up time by two hours. After dreaming of a school cafeteria-turned wedding reception and an obese man with a dark past who had the hots for me, I woke with the refrain of some silly song called "Big Brother." That's my excuse. In reality, I've become unused to getting up on time. In my natural state, 10 hours of sleep is ideal.
I realized I'd have to hurry if I was going to get a workout in and get on the road to reach Austin before lunch traffic hit. To my credit, I rocked a strength training workout, hitting all major muscle groups in half an hour and returned to my Grandpa's, where I'm staying, to pack. I was nearly ready to go when my Grandpa needed my help to scan a couple documents. Sounds simple enough--except that I am a classic gal in a techno world who gets through most computer stuff by playing the odds and praying. After both of us fuddled around with the scanner for some time I asked him to let me have a crack at it. By sheer fluke or God's mercy I found a scan wizard and scanned two measly pages, 15 minutes later.
Finally out the door, I sped off, only to reach a stop sign, jog my brain, and drive back from whence I came to grab forgotten medication. On the way back out the door my grandpa jokingly asked me if I had my license handy. "Yes sir," I replied, irritated at myself that I afforded amusement.
Following the medication incident, I hit the highway, impatient and irritated that I was now an hour behind schedule. I aggressively (but carefully) whisked around incredibly slow drivers creeping ten miles under the speed limit (usually mini-vans). Eventually reaching my friend's house, I dropped off all but my laptop to bring with me to the Starbucks near my dentist for some serious work. Upon reaching the Starbucks after first driving past it and backtracking, I realized I had left my laptop charger at my friend's house; my ancient pc only lasts 5 minutes without a charger. So, scratch the idea of useful work. I asked for rudimentary pen and paper, and wrote (people say my cursive is beautiful).
I reached my dentist at exactly 2:30pm, the allotted time for my cavity filling. Except that I had gotten the time wrong and they had been trying to call me since 2:00 when I should have been there! I profusely apologized and chalked it up to the comedy of errors that had been my day. They couldn't have been nicer. With a numbed lip I headed back to my friend's house to put some makeup on my unresponsive face before heading to dinner at my friends' house.
Backing out of the parking lot, dutifully checking behind me for cars, Wham! I crunched into two squatty white poles guarding a fire hydrant (also squatty). I glanced at a passer-by who winced when she saw the impact. I figured her face portended no good and rushed out to face the damage. My back bumper was off its rocker with a huge corner covered in white paint complemented by a jagged tear running up the side. This will make bumper #4 when I get it replaced. At this point I do not even berate myself, as I have become completely inured to fender-benders.
I reached my friends' house, a husband-wife artist duo who, between them, specialize in music, sculpture, painting, jewelry design, cooking and the forgotten magic art of conversation. The wife asked me what was wrong and, smiling out of the functioning part of my face, I explained my car snafu. When my lip regained feeling they fed me hearty homemade food and, after an entire evening spent together, the healing balm of their lightheartedness and authenticity set me straight again. All was once again right with my world.
I find that this interstitial between-time of summer with my frequent travel and routine disruption has brought out my weaknesses and exposed my need. As in my tale of woe, I frequently leave little pieces of myself in odd places and have to backtrack to find them. As simple as meds or the silver bumper paint left on a pair of irritatingly squatty poles or as soul-stirring as the friends I'd left behind, I'm learning life as a fractile is still beautiful. Though I've had to remember that my good pillow is still in Bangalore and have felt my heart's in little pieces scattered around the globe, I trust that my God who made me will make all the pieces fit.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
We. Must. Have. Chai.
I have many posts simmering in the back pot of my mind, but this is one that must be written.
It's time to talk food--Indian food, that is.
There is nothing that tells more about a society than its food and the way its people relate to it.
In Bangalore, the standard greeting from early morning to mid-afternoon is, "Have you had your breakfast?"--not, "How are you today?" When I first encountered this, I thought everyone had a more than healthy concern for the state of my stomach and thought it so kind that they would want to know. "What if I hadn't had any breakfast?" I wondered. "Would they try to feed me?" I found that on this surmise I would be entirely right.
In India, it's a "Food 'a Love" thing, as Emerill says. Good food=I love you. If there is a visit, there is food; not just a snack, but a full sambar (meat) meal with biriyani (rice with meat and/or veggies and plenty of fire) with at least some type of curry and at least one type of flatbread (naan, roti, apam, idli, or others). There's usually even some funky but surprisingly good dessert like vermicelli noodles with sweetened curd and raisins--(looks disgusting, tastes great.)
I found that I couldn't go anywhere without encountering food. I happened to see my neighbor from her balcony. She called me up and proceeded to feed me a whole meal while the family sat around watching me since they'd already eaten. Awkward, but one gets used to these expressions of love.
Food permeates every aspect of life. I went on a road trip with some of my church friends to do some hiking in Nandi Hills, just an hour out of Bangalore. While waiting for the group to assemble at a friend's house, her mother fed me chai and the most amazing pistachio baklava I've ever had. When my friend entered the door, he shared a chunk of his chocolate bar with all of us. Finally, we were on our way, me on the back of my friend's motorbike, which broke down a block past the house. After flinging his hands to the heavens and exclaiming, "Whooyy, Gohdd?" he found a repair shop down the road to do a quick cut-and-splice on his wiring.
Meanwhile, as a precaution, we went to pick up another vehicle in case his motorcycle was really dead. I hopped a ride with one of the cars. Another friend inside offered me--I kid you not--steamed broccoli. She had cooked it 'cause she didn't want it to go bad. Then she remembered that steamed broccoli smells like farts and wisely left it in the container. After picking up the extra car, we got a call from my guy friend that his motorcycle had roared back to life at the shop. We met up with him and then sat with the carpool by the side of the road while someone returned the extra car. Two guys whipped out these awesome crispy snacks that resembled fried pork lard laden with fire. Another one broke out some great potato chips, also covered in spice heat. Our friend returned and, moved by compassion for our wait, broke out an entire tub of corn-on-the-cob! I had to laugh. This progressive dinner, starting backwards with dessert first, was so absurd!
Finally back on the road, we aimed to meet up with a couple further down the road who'd been waiting for us on their motorbikes for an hour-and-a-half, at least. When me and my friend on the motorbike reached them in the lead, the husband, an Indian national back from England who'd married an English lass, exclaimed, "We've ben' waitin' for two hours and me' bum's sore! We must have chai!" So, motorbikes first, we veered off the highway to a dubious roadside chai shack to the chagrin of those caravaning behind us who were sick of being on the road at this point. All assembled, we toasted each other in the moonlight with espresso shot-sized glasses of hot chai and took an awesome group pic under the blare of the neon sign. The Indian/English bloke gave me an after-dinner apertif known as a "breath-freshener." It's a combination of eucalyptus bits, mint, and sugar-coated anise seeds. His wife said it tasted like soap. I quite agreed. I smelled mountainy-fresh.
Three hours late to our one-hour destination, we joined up with our other friends already at the lodge at Nandi Hills' base. Exhausted, but blissfully loopy, we all stumbled into the main hall where the matriarch had prepared all of us--a full sambar dinner at 9:30 pm!
Along with all the food, my aforementioned chai stop is a completely natural occurrence in Indian society. My school provides everyone a tea break at 10:15 a.m. every day. Indian chai (tea) is made quite differently than the dunk-and-brew variety. They mix half milk, half water with loose tea leaves and boil vigorously for three minutes. After straining the tea leaves, they mix raw sugar in with the brew for pure deliciousness. Chai is usually served in metal shot glasses with a wide metal lip which, I think, adds to the flavor. It's the juxtaposition of hardware and sweetness that highlights how good the chai is. Mind you, lukewarm milky chai is disgusting. It must be served piping hot whilst you gingerly grasp the cup by the metal lip, the only non-scalding part of the vessel. Danger is as enervating as caffeine.
The first chai I had was at my neighbor's downstairs flat. At her insistence, though she didn't even have furniture yet, she made me the most amazing glass of masala chai for our visit. Masala chai combines ginger, cardamom, and something else that's complete magic. I was drinking comfort and joy.
The last chai I recall having before I left was actually at the bank. I'd gotten there right before opening to do my monthly wire transfer when they let me in ten minutes early while they prepped and set up. All major businesses have housekeepers who also function as chai wallahs, our version of baristas. While the bankers did their thing, a small young man darted about handing out steaming chai in the most delicate English china glasses on a little tray. Busy texting, I was surprised when he bent over me and offered me the last glass. Pinky up, I waited as the English and Indians do--drinking chai.
Funny how, in our American time-driven society, we forget these simple niceties of food and tea. True, I often get steamed over how slow Indian society functions, but at least I know I can have my wait and eat it too. May I always be so lucky.
It's time to talk food--Indian food, that is.
There is nothing that tells more about a society than its food and the way its people relate to it.
In Bangalore, the standard greeting from early morning to mid-afternoon is, "Have you had your breakfast?"--not, "How are you today?" When I first encountered this, I thought everyone had a more than healthy concern for the state of my stomach and thought it so kind that they would want to know. "What if I hadn't had any breakfast?" I wondered. "Would they try to feed me?" I found that on this surmise I would be entirely right.
In India, it's a "Food 'a Love" thing, as Emerill says. Good food=I love you. If there is a visit, there is food; not just a snack, but a full sambar (meat) meal with biriyani (rice with meat and/or veggies and plenty of fire) with at least some type of curry and at least one type of flatbread (naan, roti, apam, idli, or others). There's usually even some funky but surprisingly good dessert like vermicelli noodles with sweetened curd and raisins--(looks disgusting, tastes great.)
I found that I couldn't go anywhere without encountering food. I happened to see my neighbor from her balcony. She called me up and proceeded to feed me a whole meal while the family sat around watching me since they'd already eaten. Awkward, but one gets used to these expressions of love.
Food permeates every aspect of life. I went on a road trip with some of my church friends to do some hiking in Nandi Hills, just an hour out of Bangalore. While waiting for the group to assemble at a friend's house, her mother fed me chai and the most amazing pistachio baklava I've ever had. When my friend entered the door, he shared a chunk of his chocolate bar with all of us. Finally, we were on our way, me on the back of my friend's motorbike, which broke down a block past the house. After flinging his hands to the heavens and exclaiming, "Whooyy, Gohdd?" he found a repair shop down the road to do a quick cut-and-splice on his wiring.
Meanwhile, as a precaution, we went to pick up another vehicle in case his motorcycle was really dead. I hopped a ride with one of the cars. Another friend inside offered me--I kid you not--steamed broccoli. She had cooked it 'cause she didn't want it to go bad. Then she remembered that steamed broccoli smells like farts and wisely left it in the container. After picking up the extra car, we got a call from my guy friend that his motorcycle had roared back to life at the shop. We met up with him and then sat with the carpool by the side of the road while someone returned the extra car. Two guys whipped out these awesome crispy snacks that resembled fried pork lard laden with fire. Another one broke out some great potato chips, also covered in spice heat. Our friend returned and, moved by compassion for our wait, broke out an entire tub of corn-on-the-cob! I had to laugh. This progressive dinner, starting backwards with dessert first, was so absurd!
Finally back on the road, we aimed to meet up with a couple further down the road who'd been waiting for us on their motorbikes for an hour-and-a-half, at least. When me and my friend on the motorbike reached them in the lead, the husband, an Indian national back from England who'd married an English lass, exclaimed, "We've ben' waitin' for two hours and me' bum's sore! We must have chai!" So, motorbikes first, we veered off the highway to a dubious roadside chai shack to the chagrin of those caravaning behind us who were sick of being on the road at this point. All assembled, we toasted each other in the moonlight with espresso shot-sized glasses of hot chai and took an awesome group pic under the blare of the neon sign. The Indian/English bloke gave me an after-dinner apertif known as a "breath-freshener." It's a combination of eucalyptus bits, mint, and sugar-coated anise seeds. His wife said it tasted like soap. I quite agreed. I smelled mountainy-fresh.
Three hours late to our one-hour destination, we joined up with our other friends already at the lodge at Nandi Hills' base. Exhausted, but blissfully loopy, we all stumbled into the main hall where the matriarch had prepared all of us--a full sambar dinner at 9:30 pm!
Along with all the food, my aforementioned chai stop is a completely natural occurrence in Indian society. My school provides everyone a tea break at 10:15 a.m. every day. Indian chai (tea) is made quite differently than the dunk-and-brew variety. They mix half milk, half water with loose tea leaves and boil vigorously for three minutes. After straining the tea leaves, they mix raw sugar in with the brew for pure deliciousness. Chai is usually served in metal shot glasses with a wide metal lip which, I think, adds to the flavor. It's the juxtaposition of hardware and sweetness that highlights how good the chai is. Mind you, lukewarm milky chai is disgusting. It must be served piping hot whilst you gingerly grasp the cup by the metal lip, the only non-scalding part of the vessel. Danger is as enervating as caffeine.
The first chai I had was at my neighbor's downstairs flat. At her insistence, though she didn't even have furniture yet, she made me the most amazing glass of masala chai for our visit. Masala chai combines ginger, cardamom, and something else that's complete magic. I was drinking comfort and joy.
The last chai I recall having before I left was actually at the bank. I'd gotten there right before opening to do my monthly wire transfer when they let me in ten minutes early while they prepped and set up. All major businesses have housekeepers who also function as chai wallahs, our version of baristas. While the bankers did their thing, a small young man darted about handing out steaming chai in the most delicate English china glasses on a little tray. Busy texting, I was surprised when he bent over me and offered me the last glass. Pinky up, I waited as the English and Indians do--drinking chai.
Funny how, in our American time-driven society, we forget these simple niceties of food and tea. True, I often get steamed over how slow Indian society functions, but at least I know I can have my wait and eat it too. May I always be so lucky.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Mahatma Gumby
I'm up in the air at 30,000 feet, or
whatever altitude we are, and I've just finished watching "The Best Exotic
Marigold Hotel," a new release about a group of seniors who head to India
to retire without any idea of what they're getting in for. Although funny,
it was painfully familiar, having just left a few hours ago for summer break.
The "narrator" character,
played by Judi Dench, blogged every day about her experiences. She had
some profound things to say about India and life that have left me feeling
wistful that I haven't yet reached her state of humble enlightenment.
She said life in India is like
a huge ocean wave--fight it and you'll be crushed; jump in, swim with it and
you'll come out the other side in one piece. It's so the truth; I have
fought with so many different situations and people there that at times I've
felt exhausted. It's literally only when I breathe and, in some
situations, realize...something--how good I've got it, how temporary the
situation is, how I'm not ultimately in control, that I'm able to have peace.
I liken her wave analogy to other
things I've experienced, the most visceral of which was as a young teen getting
my braces off. For those of you who have not had the privilege of
braces, let me just say that orthodontics deviates only slightly from medieval
torture. The only difference is the size of the rack. Anyway, at
the end of your three-to-five-year turning of the screw, you give what are
called "impressions"--no, these are not a record of your thoughts and
feelings for posterity's sake. They are clay moulds of your newly-fitted
teeth to fit you for yet another humiliating stint with headgear and mouth
retainers.
To create these impressions, they
fill two tooth guard-sized moulds with wet clay and shove it in your mouth all
the way to the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex. They tell
you, "Just breathe" as you dry heave with wild eyes, unable to speak.
After more attempts at retching, you finally realize your nose still
functions and you can, indeed, breathe.
This is how I liken my experience of
India at this stage of my progress. No, it's not nearly as pretty as Judi
Dench's ocean wave, but just as true. I have realized that, like it at
times and hate it at others, I can, indeed, thrive in a country that often goes
against my natural instincts of self-preservation.
This week I had another chance to
relearn this profound truth in another context. I was the head makeup
coordinator/artist for our school play, Willy Wonka Jr. Mind you, I am a
planner-I get that from my retired army officer dad and my detail-oriented mom.
I planned-- I sent out a multitude of emails, I recruited volunteers, I fought
for essential makeup supplies, I planned two involved instruction/practice
sessions since many volunteers had never applied makeup, and assigned
volunteers all over the school. On paper, it was seamless.
What actually happened was
this:
My practice session times and
locations were moved with a half hour's notice, causing me to sprint around
posting signs on the old locations. When the teacher who was supposed to
bring the makeup for the first session didn't have it there when the class was
due to start, I had a slight tantrum and begged another teacher I happened to
tag to bring me her makeup. Teachers and volunteers who had at least two
weeks' notice didn't come all at once but in odd shifts, causing me to teach
the same demo about five times.
Opening night the snack time for the
kids involved was set to happen right in the middle of makeup application
times. I had fought to get it before makeup application for the obvious
reason of not having kindergarteners smearing and eating off their makeup.
The powers that be didn't see it my way and snack time stood.
Actually, it took one huge step to the right and, due to pure
incompetence, was delayed 45 minutes. This meant that teachers, who
couldn't imagine not feeding their children on-site food at scheduled times,
delayed makeup application a whole hour to accommodate this. On top of
which, the classroom I was slotted to help in was empty--guess where the kids
were?--In the pool! Yep, that's right--the teacher had seen fit to let
them work out their energy by getting soaking wet when they were supposed to be
in costumes lifting up their cherubic little faces for lipstick. On top
of which, the teacher didn't tell me they were going to apply makeup in another
classroom. On top of which, when I finally found the class, two teachers
were dyeing their hair blue! They simply took it on themselves to buck
the system and make their lone class be "special". All this
aside, I had two volunteers cancel last-minute (thankfully God gave me two more
to replace them, also last-minute!)
Closing night, having reached a
point of near exhaustion, I simply surrendered. The scripture came to
mind--"Whoever wants to be great in My kingdom must be the servant of all.”
I realized some of my irritations really resulted from not being flexible
and worrying more about my own inconvenience than how I could minister and
help. I told the Lord I would be a servant and just help where I was
needed.
It went so smoothly! It was
like nothing could faze me anymore. Another volunteer canceled
last-minute because she was "too depressed" that hour to put makeup
on kids, or so I heard. I simply shifted someone else to her spot and God
gave me another last-minute "chance" volunteer! While I was
applying wrinkles to an "old man" one of my students came and
literally knelt in front of me strongly urging me to please, see if I could
find her another grade point somewhere so she could bump to the next grade
bracket, even though grades were already completed and she'd had her score for
a week. I said, "Sure" and went and found her another
legitimate point while the play was in session. Why not?
Surprisingly, there was just enough time to review her essays and clean up a
huge makeup mess before the play was done and busses left. Whew.
My dad sent me a wry
pseudo-scripture right before I left for India. It said, "Blessed
are the flexible for they shall not be broken." Oh, how true that is! So
for now, just call me "Gumby"--in training.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Sari Night
Hello, My Beloved Post-ees,
Here is a little series of pics featuring the sari I wore to the senior class' graduation. Apparently the way to win the hearts of the Indians here is to wear their dress, as they all loved it. I must say, there's nothing like a sari for feeling feminine. I refuse to put any disclaimer on these pics by saying they're not good, I shouldn't be vain, I'm too fat, I'm too this, I'm too that... Putting all things aside, I had fun, I felt beautiful, and I want to share. :)
Here is a little series of pics featuring the sari I wore to the senior class' graduation. Apparently the way to win the hearts of the Indians here is to wear their dress, as they all loved it. I must say, there's nothing like a sari for feeling feminine. I refuse to put any disclaimer on these pics by saying they're not good, I shouldn't be vain, I'm too fat, I'm too this, I'm too that... Putting all things aside, I had fun, I felt beautiful, and I want to share. :)
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| Me and my friend Scott--no, not all those drinks are ours! |
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| Such a lovely, formal graduation. (Note the other gorgeous sari worn behind me.) |
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| Cinderella's Accessories |
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| If the shoe fits... |
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| I adore this citron yellow. |
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| I love the back shoulder drape. |
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| Side view |
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| I feel as though I'm wearing a painting. |
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| The hand beadwork on this tulle is wonderful. |
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| White shoulders |
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Helpful Household Hints from "The Hard Way":
1. If one does not
want to clean caked-on oatmeal off a porcelain bowl, simply let full contents
of said bowl slip through one’s fingers causing porcelain to shatter with
oatmeal; scoop shards and oatmeal into plastic bag; repeat as needed.
2. If one runs out of
face powder in humid climate, one can try any number of substitutes—corn
starch, for instance. Baking soda,
however, is not advisable. While useful
for deodorizing, teeth brushing, baking, cleaning, and acid indigestion, baking
soda, when used as facial powder, has an exfoliating effect akin to
sandpaper.
3. Strong “dust tea”
does not simply require brewing, as indicated on nondescript instructions. Contrary to popular folk wisdom, tea dust
does not dissolve in hot water. To drink
contents in absence of sieve, simply purse one’s lips and strain said contents
through teeth. Resulting grit is useful
for teeth brushing.
4. When using taper
candles to see by during power outage, it is useful to craft stand for candle
resulting in stable base. One can
fashion origami-like stand in the dark using stiff cardstock by folding
notecard-sized stationary up at each corner resulting in “legs” for candle base,
then shoving candle through middle and lighting. It is best, however, to approximate middle of
holder by feel to keep candle upright so that candle, when lit, does not tip
hot wax onto graded papers.
5. When one has an
emergency light for power outages it is useful to charge it.
6. When one does not
want to attempt killing flying cockroach during power outage, simply pray, wait
for cockroach to settle, and set overturned tea cup on top. Wait for cleaning man to dispose of. (Hint—it is useful to learn the word “bug” in
Hindi before allowing man to lift cup.)
7. If one makes oft-repeated
mistake of opening an unscreened window at night with fluorescent room light
on, it is useful to remember all flying insects are attracted to light. In event large wasp flies through open window
and settles in one’s wardrobe, simply close wardrobe doors, trapping wasp
inside. Write sticky note with words “Mind
the wasp” and affix on wardrobe door.
Leave on holiday for three days, giving wasp sufficient time to
asphyxiate. On return, remove sticky
note and pry clinging wasp corpse off favorite blouse.
7. When drying one’s
laundry on roof, it is best to rescue clothing as soon as possible before
impending storm. However, some may prefer
aromatic scent of mildew on knickers; in this case, rinse and repeat.
8. When hanging
pictures in absence of hammer, a sturdy mug works better than a sneaker.
9. When climbing multiple
apartment staircases in the dark it is useful to insert house key in one’s own
door instead of one’s neighbor’s. This
adds credibility and detracts from notion that one is a hooligan when said
neighbor pokes startled head out of front door.
10. In absence of
Clorox Ready Wipes, spit is a natural solvent.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Bring It.
It's time I wrote this blog. High time. It's been brewing in my head the past month at least.
I want to tell you all that I have been giving you only one side of my story. The side I've presented is dessert; the side I'm about to present is a tough piece of steak that requires persistent chewing.
I have had a relatively easy, cushy existence most of my life--true, not without its emotional difficulties and heartaches, but otherwise, pretty cushy. I've lived in--let's face it--an insulated, homogenized culture that's really required nothing more than sameness and the usual admonition to "follow your dreams." Who knew that following your dreams could be so hard? I know now that it is.
I've wanted to live overseas for many years now and always yearn to go to the next country, experience the next new thing. I have dramatic desires to "immerse myself in culture" and get to know the "real (fill-in-the-blank) people" of wherever I am. This is all still true. It's just that I now know what that's like. It's darn hard.
An introvert by nature, I find I'm constantly having to "put myself out there" when it comes to living and working in India. There is no real system or structure here. All things coexist, from beggars to businessmen to cabs and cows, mom-and-pop one-room stores to multinational IT companies. As a result, I find that when I walk into a business situation, I do not have a neat little "slot" to fill as the customer. I have to assert myself to get what I want done, and how! The Indian style of thinking and doing business is not linear, but circular (or, more like a tangled ball of yarn). As a result, there is no clear process in business, speech or otherwise to get from beginning A to end result B. Enter, me. Unlike my younger days, I have become much more straightforward in my thought processes and speech. I can parse apart the steps that I need to take or say to get things done. Simple--at least, simple in America.
Imagine my frustration when I try to have a conversation with a coworker about a straightforward lesson plan for teaching and end up hearing about their pet dog, what they'll have for dinner, and about a student I've never heard of, all interspersed by five interruptions by various people who do not view themselves as interruptions. Multitasking is an art form here which encompasses conversations, leaving me struggling to hold onto my original thread of thought in what has become a snarled bundle of nothingness. But I digress--back to the assertive bit.
I have had to get up nearly in people's faces and hound them just to get anything done business-wise here. As example, I had to get new cell service because the one I started with went bogus and shut off my phone (long story), so I switched to another provider that I had heard good things about. The important detail the salesman didn't think worth explaining to me was that they had to physically come to my house to establish my residency (for cell service). Hence, I waited for days before going physically back to the sales office to see why I didn't have service yet. I found out that a lone man had simply shown up at my door one morning to verify my place while I was at work. He shrugged his shoulders and told his uppers that oh well, she wasn't there. Had I known he was coming we could have arranged a time to meet. I'd had to give my friend as a reference for me, so the cell provider took to calling her since they couldn't communicate with me on the phone; they said they'd send someone out again, and didn't. I called back through my friend. They said they'd send someone again. They didn't. This went on for several more days.
I finally went back to the sales office for the last time and gave my salesman what for. I said, "Can you guarantee me that someone will come down to my house today and that I will have cell service tonight?" He said, "No, we don't guarantee anything." I pounded my hand on the table and said, "Then what good is your word?" He said, "No ma'am, it's not my word." I said, "I mean, the word of your company and your business reputation!" I went on, "This is basic customer service, sir! Make it happen!" He went on and hem-hawed about waiting for a report, and I said, "Make it happen!" a few more times till he finally said, "Ok, ma'am." I huffed off and left my only sunglasses at his counter. Dang. I charged outside to hail a rickshaw, and the man wanted to charge me way more than the ride was worth. I was in no mood. I snapped, "Don't waste my time!" and went on to the next driver and then another before one agreed to take me home for the fair price. Several more days later when I'd completely given up hope of ever having cell service, a lone man with a backpack and a clipboard showed up at my doorstep. I said, "I've been waiting a week and a half for you! This is very bad customer service." All he said was, "Sorry, Madam." He spoke only broken English, so I reiterated "very bad!" another time and gave up. After he left, I finally got cell service at about 11:00pm that night, a week and a half after it was promised.
I do not tell you that story to say I was right or good. I was really a ticked off expat who couldn't understand why it was so dang hard to tell someone all of what their new service entailed for setup, have someone show up when they promised, and follow through!
Many if not all of my multiple needs to be strong and assertive revolve around this idea of time. Like the circular thinking and relating style, time is a very circular thing here. Getting to places on time, saying you'll be somewhere at x time and then showing five hours later, and just simple follow through are really mere guidelines than the way life runs here. The Southern Indians I've encountered are so laid back (mostly the men) about time that it's maddening. Just today I had to call a repairman about 10 times for my new AC unit that's already broken twice to send his technician when he said he would to get it fixed. Thus, I waited at home all day, being promised every time I called that the repairman was "in my area", would "be there in an hour", etc. I finally had to say, "I've been waiting for your repairman all day. He needs to come now!"
It is really challenging for me to be Christlike in this environment. I want to get angry at everything right now because it all runs counter-clockwise to the way I've lived life up till now.
Aside from being assertive and struggling with anger, I've had to fill a role at work that I've never done before. Though I have the schooling, I've never formally taught. Now, I'm teaching advanced-level English language and literature to kids from all over the world and doing my best to live up to the standards of my employer. All the other teachers have been doing this for years, and I am ever-conscious that though many things do go right, there are many things I simply don't know how to do. It's a new curriculum this year on top of which, and so we're all trying to figure it out. I know how to teach a lesson and get my point across, but boy am I struggling to deal with all the processes involved in teaching--paperwork, interpersonal communication, meetings, incorporating holistic teaching methods, thinking both inside and outside the box, dealing with discipline issues and parents, and planning and grading for hours on end every night. It's really the same intensity level as being in college in a demanding degree program. Thus, I tend to not even be able to keep up with personal email.
As of a few weeks ago I was required (along with most teachers) to add on two extra-curricular activities to my teaching docket. They are fun ones--creative writing and a singer/songwriter workshop. I haven't sung since I left Austin, and now I am teaching kids how to sing and compose along with a fellow co-teacher. Most if not all of these kids have never composed and don't know how to go about it. So, that means I have had to begin modeling it for them. I still have a tendency to be shy about singing even after doing it these many years, but I can't be shy in this case. These kids need me. I just need to bring it.
In all of these things and many more I'm realizing the power of that phrase--Bring it! Heretofore I've hidden in a lot of ways--tucked away my talents, covered up under the guise of professionalism, and put on a poker face. Not so anymore. I can't. I'm learning that I have to bring all I have to bear to the table and hold nothing back. This is life. It is happening. I can't walk forward in this new, bewildering environment and handicap myself by only giving a little bit of me. I have to bring all of me and trust that God will be happy and honored by my efforts and fill in all my gaps and support my weaknesses with his strength. I have to learn, also, to lean on him and let my strong efforts be tempered with gentleness and kindness. On top of all that, or, rather, supporting it all, I have to learn how to trust. Sometimes I wonder why I tend to choose the hard way, but it seems I'm reaching for something that needs all this effort to come forth. The Lord has also told me he's building something in me and preparing me for something, and that patience has to have her perfect work...
I want to leave you with a quote I've grappled with for many years that I still love. In these recent hard days I've had echoes of it in my mind:
If I do nothing else in all this venture, I hope to learn this and truly become all of the child of God I was made to be.
I want to tell you all that I have been giving you only one side of my story. The side I've presented is dessert; the side I'm about to present is a tough piece of steak that requires persistent chewing.
I have had a relatively easy, cushy existence most of my life--true, not without its emotional difficulties and heartaches, but otherwise, pretty cushy. I've lived in--let's face it--an insulated, homogenized culture that's really required nothing more than sameness and the usual admonition to "follow your dreams." Who knew that following your dreams could be so hard? I know now that it is.
I've wanted to live overseas for many years now and always yearn to go to the next country, experience the next new thing. I have dramatic desires to "immerse myself in culture" and get to know the "real (fill-in-the-blank) people" of wherever I am. This is all still true. It's just that I now know what that's like. It's darn hard.
An introvert by nature, I find I'm constantly having to "put myself out there" when it comes to living and working in India. There is no real system or structure here. All things coexist, from beggars to businessmen to cabs and cows, mom-and-pop one-room stores to multinational IT companies. As a result, I find that when I walk into a business situation, I do not have a neat little "slot" to fill as the customer. I have to assert myself to get what I want done, and how! The Indian style of thinking and doing business is not linear, but circular (or, more like a tangled ball of yarn). As a result, there is no clear process in business, speech or otherwise to get from beginning A to end result B. Enter, me. Unlike my younger days, I have become much more straightforward in my thought processes and speech. I can parse apart the steps that I need to take or say to get things done. Simple--at least, simple in America.
Imagine my frustration when I try to have a conversation with a coworker about a straightforward lesson plan for teaching and end up hearing about their pet dog, what they'll have for dinner, and about a student I've never heard of, all interspersed by five interruptions by various people who do not view themselves as interruptions. Multitasking is an art form here which encompasses conversations, leaving me struggling to hold onto my original thread of thought in what has become a snarled bundle of nothingness. But I digress--back to the assertive bit.
I have had to get up nearly in people's faces and hound them just to get anything done business-wise here. As example, I had to get new cell service because the one I started with went bogus and shut off my phone (long story), so I switched to another provider that I had heard good things about. The important detail the salesman didn't think worth explaining to me was that they had to physically come to my house to establish my residency (for cell service). Hence, I waited for days before going physically back to the sales office to see why I didn't have service yet. I found out that a lone man had simply shown up at my door one morning to verify my place while I was at work. He shrugged his shoulders and told his uppers that oh well, she wasn't there. Had I known he was coming we could have arranged a time to meet. I'd had to give my friend as a reference for me, so the cell provider took to calling her since they couldn't communicate with me on the phone; they said they'd send someone out again, and didn't. I called back through my friend. They said they'd send someone again. They didn't. This went on for several more days.
I finally went back to the sales office for the last time and gave my salesman what for. I said, "Can you guarantee me that someone will come down to my house today and that I will have cell service tonight?" He said, "No, we don't guarantee anything." I pounded my hand on the table and said, "Then what good is your word?" He said, "No ma'am, it's not my word." I said, "I mean, the word of your company and your business reputation!" I went on, "This is basic customer service, sir! Make it happen!" He went on and hem-hawed about waiting for a report, and I said, "Make it happen!" a few more times till he finally said, "Ok, ma'am." I huffed off and left my only sunglasses at his counter. Dang. I charged outside to hail a rickshaw, and the man wanted to charge me way more than the ride was worth. I was in no mood. I snapped, "Don't waste my time!" and went on to the next driver and then another before one agreed to take me home for the fair price. Several more days later when I'd completely given up hope of ever having cell service, a lone man with a backpack and a clipboard showed up at my doorstep. I said, "I've been waiting a week and a half for you! This is very bad customer service." All he said was, "Sorry, Madam." He spoke only broken English, so I reiterated "very bad!" another time and gave up. After he left, I finally got cell service at about 11:00pm that night, a week and a half after it was promised.
I do not tell you that story to say I was right or good. I was really a ticked off expat who couldn't understand why it was so dang hard to tell someone all of what their new service entailed for setup, have someone show up when they promised, and follow through!
Many if not all of my multiple needs to be strong and assertive revolve around this idea of time. Like the circular thinking and relating style, time is a very circular thing here. Getting to places on time, saying you'll be somewhere at x time and then showing five hours later, and just simple follow through are really mere guidelines than the way life runs here. The Southern Indians I've encountered are so laid back (mostly the men) about time that it's maddening. Just today I had to call a repairman about 10 times for my new AC unit that's already broken twice to send his technician when he said he would to get it fixed. Thus, I waited at home all day, being promised every time I called that the repairman was "in my area", would "be there in an hour", etc. I finally had to say, "I've been waiting for your repairman all day. He needs to come now!"
It is really challenging for me to be Christlike in this environment. I want to get angry at everything right now because it all runs counter-clockwise to the way I've lived life up till now.
Aside from being assertive and struggling with anger, I've had to fill a role at work that I've never done before. Though I have the schooling, I've never formally taught. Now, I'm teaching advanced-level English language and literature to kids from all over the world and doing my best to live up to the standards of my employer. All the other teachers have been doing this for years, and I am ever-conscious that though many things do go right, there are many things I simply don't know how to do. It's a new curriculum this year on top of which, and so we're all trying to figure it out. I know how to teach a lesson and get my point across, but boy am I struggling to deal with all the processes involved in teaching--paperwork, interpersonal communication, meetings, incorporating holistic teaching methods, thinking both inside and outside the box, dealing with discipline issues and parents, and planning and grading for hours on end every night. It's really the same intensity level as being in college in a demanding degree program. Thus, I tend to not even be able to keep up with personal email.
As of a few weeks ago I was required (along with most teachers) to add on two extra-curricular activities to my teaching docket. They are fun ones--creative writing and a singer/songwriter workshop. I haven't sung since I left Austin, and now I am teaching kids how to sing and compose along with a fellow co-teacher. Most if not all of these kids have never composed and don't know how to go about it. So, that means I have had to begin modeling it for them. I still have a tendency to be shy about singing even after doing it these many years, but I can't be shy in this case. These kids need me. I just need to bring it.
In all of these things and many more I'm realizing the power of that phrase--Bring it! Heretofore I've hidden in a lot of ways--tucked away my talents, covered up under the guise of professionalism, and put on a poker face. Not so anymore. I can't. I'm learning that I have to bring all I have to bear to the table and hold nothing back. This is life. It is happening. I can't walk forward in this new, bewildering environment and handicap myself by only giving a little bit of me. I have to bring all of me and trust that God will be happy and honored by my efforts and fill in all my gaps and support my weaknesses with his strength. I have to learn, also, to lean on him and let my strong efforts be tempered with gentleness and kindness. On top of all that, or, rather, supporting it all, I have to learn how to trust. Sometimes I wonder why I tend to choose the hard way, but it seems I'm reaching for something that needs all this effort to come forth. The Lord has also told me he's building something in me and preparing me for something, and that patience has to have her perfect work...
I want to leave you with a quote I've grappled with for many years that I still love. In these recent hard days I've had echoes of it in my mind:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
― Marianne Williamson, Return to Love
― Marianne Williamson, Return to Love
If I do nothing else in all this venture, I hope to learn this and truly become all of the child of God I was made to be.
Friday, March 23, 2012
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