I can't squat here, it is considered rude. My first week at work (in a bookstore) I found myself squatting--I mean really squatting down to the ground--to shelf the books and I realized that squatting isn't acceptable in the United States. i could just kind of feel that I was doing something culturally weird. You also can't sit on the floor unless you are a child or a teenager. I am short. Chairs are too tall for me. I like to sit on the floor. I like to sit low down, squatting or on a low step. I like to squat. Chairs are smaller in Madagascar. I am smaller too and it fit me better.
It is freezing cold. When I am outside, my entire body seizes up as if to say, "Get inside now you are going to die." I often think of how societies, technologies and cultures have evolved based on the weather. It is something I can consider for hours.
We become outraged if we have to wait but in actuality everything in the US happens very quickly. The odd part is that even though everything is quite efficient I absolutely feel that I have less time in the United States. I find myself running errands that don't make sense but are part of life. For example, I had to reschedule a standardized test I am taking because I was sick and on pain medication (the kind that makes you foggy). In order to reschedule my test I had to go to the doctor (again), get a note and then fax it to the testing center in some other state. Why? In Madagascar I once ran out of money because I didn't realize that there was a 10,000 ariary minimum in your bank account. I was planning to use that 10,000 until my pay day. So there I was--no money and out of food. I met with the manager of the bank and told him I needed the money (that was mine--the 10,000) because I needed to buy food and didn't know about that rule. He puffed on his cigarette, listened to me (probably in shock to see a foreigner in financial distress) and gave it to me. I thanked him. Both were annoying errands--but in Madagascar I was taken at my word. I think a lot of errands in the US are ridiculous side effects of our rigidity.
I took an online personality test for a job I applied to. One of the trick questions was about whether or not you like to nap. I am pretty sure you were supposed to say that you don't like naps, or at least you shouldn't strongly agree that napping is awesome. Really?
The bus is never full. And in Utah people don't use public transportation like they do in bigger cities. It is often considered low class. So there I am on a super fancy heated 40 seat bus with three other people.
In Madagascar I had this delusional feeling that I was more in touch with the poor (or regular) people. I guess when you join Peace Corps you are just picturing it that way--that you will be working with the regular people and not with the people who are 'better off.' For a long time, I specifically avoided making friends with higher class Malagasy people. What misguided sense of reality or duty fostered this I cannot say. I did like the openness it created inside of me--the desire to connect and to not judge people based on their income. I really didn't judge people because they were poor. It felt beautiful and it changed the way I interacted. The judging of higher class people is something I look back on and sigh--because they often reached out to me more, I think because in a country like Madagascar educated people feel a certain togetherness. I see nothing wrong with this now. In the United States I make no effort whatsoever to be in touch with the poor (or regular) people. Somehow in my mind it made sense to me in Madagascar but in my own country I feel distant from people who I can tell are really poor. Why? I am polite, sure, but I feel distant. I judged higher class Malagasy people for distancing themselves from "the countryside" or the more poor people (which, it must be said, was a more compassionate judging than in the US because people don't tend to see poverty as self determined). I judged people for seeking me out because I was foreign and educated. And yet here I am in my own country doing the same thing. How many judgements will it take for me to realize that judging someone is like throwing a blanket on top of them. You only see your blanket. You don't see the person at all.
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