One phenomenon I'm attempting to stave off is the idea that my surroundings are my "new normal." I fell into this trap after a few months in Israel, mostly as a survival mechanism. It's the act of pretending that one's new environment is commonplace and is something that has to be adjusted to as quickly as possible. Last summer, I found myself getting used to the streets of Jerusalem, the sights of decked-out Hasidic Jews, and the Hebrew signs; I shrugged as if I belonged there, like it was my every-day. I excuse myself a little bit, because three months is a long-time, and attempting to live in a constant state of wonder is exhausting.
However, I plan on being exhausted by the end of this trip. And getting accustomed to India doesn't seem quite possible. Whether it's passing a cow pulling a gigantic cart of pomegranates, or the constant fear of crashing because of the haphazard attention to basic street etiquetted every day in India seems to leave me breathless. Literally--the exhaust in the air makes my lungs hurt.
Yesterday, we had a neighborhood visit; we separated into groups of six and, along with a translator, immersed ourselves in a particular neighborhood. My group visited Kubeshagar, a Hindu Pakistani refugee neighborhood about forty minutes from the city center.
Okay, so by the time we arrived in the neighborhood, I was so overwhelmed I could not even breathe. Between the crazy rickshaw ride, the overpowering stenches of cows and mud and exhaust, and the act of being thrust into a brand-new neighborhood in a brand-new country, I was like--
I literally felt like I couldn't breathe or move or function. But somehow, I got my legs to walk, and I followed our leader blindly down the road.
Apparently, not many people looking like my group (aka white) come to this neighborhood very often, so we actually had numerous individuals questioning our guide as to why we were even there.
them @ us
While the visit only exacerbated the culture shock I'd been feeling, there were a few bright moments. One was meeting Miraben, a stunningly creative and successful mother of four and grandmother of six who crafted beautiful quilts and cared for her home. Her younger sister, Dahiben, was also an absolute delight and inspiration. I especially connected with her, and we shared hugs and effusive gratitude--even though we spoke completely different languages. It's sometimes shocking to me the amount of emotion and love that can be communicated without words.
We visited an elementary school, and I've never felt more like a celebrity in my life. The children screamed and crowded around us, begging for autographs on their notebooks and hands. At first, it was cute and flattering, but I soon began to feel immensely uncomfortable.
The reasons I awed them so deeply were simply that I am white and that I am American. What had I actually done, I wondered, to deserve such idolization and adoration? I felt unworthy of their attention, but I didn't know how to respond to their desperate requests for my signature. To ignore them would be to reinforce the falsity of my superiority; to give in would be to legitimize their vaulting of me. It seemed impossible. It still seems impossible.
I FINALLY had a decent enough signal to talk with my mother on the phone today, and I emphasized how overwhelmed I felt. She asked why I was more overwhelmed here than in any other place I'd been. After some thinking, I tried to explain why. This place--whether it is the city or the country, I do not know--is saturated beyond capacity with colors, smells, people, activity, and sound. I am constantly berated by my surroundings, and I feel as if I, too, am filled to the brim. I'm unable to take in any more. I need to release it, and let go of the sensations that have taken over me
I was planning on writing much more tonight, but I'm once again being overcome by the emotions of sadness, anger, desperation, helplessness, empathy... So many feelings. I didn't even know I had the ability to feel so much at once. I am constantly being challenged by my surroundings, by the people I am with, by the expectations of my classes and my assignments and myself. I am constantly questioning my place in this society, my effect on my environment, my very own personhood--who am I in India, who am I in the United States, and how are those two beings different?
I am exhausted. I am overwhelmed. But I promise myself that I will try to overcome, and I challenge myself to live every day open to the new and to the people I will meet.
I hope to write more tomorrow about my past two days--but for now, I need to sit in the dark and simply be with myself.
Signing off,
Aubrey
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