Bumbling through culture shocks...

I wasn't really sure how to begin witting about this really amazing experience Allen and I had last weekend (and frankly, I'm still not sure how to write about it), because I think we both have mixed feelings about what happened: gratitude, respect, caring, embarrassment and awkwardness are some of the feelings that come quickest to mind. So I'm starting this post with a disclaimer that we're still sorting through our own understanding of what happened, so don't judge our behavior too harshly... I feel its just part of the awkwardness that comes with culture shock.

We had been invited to an Eid celebration at the home of Allen's tabla maker friend on the weekend I first arrived... but as I'm sure you remember, we weren't really up for it after a weekend of being sick and a visit to the hospital. So we rescheduled the visit for this past weekend.

We weren't expecting riches - but I don't think we were expecting the two room home (brick and cement walls - I forget the word for this now) that was shared by 8 family members (3 adults and 5 children who were all under 10 years old). There was a small bathroom right off the front entrance. The kitchen was also in the front part of the large room. The back was separated with a curtain. In the back they had two wooden framed beds that they could lean against the wall if they needed more space. Besides the beds, the only other big furniture was a stove a refridgerator and a TV.

The whole scene was very striking - but not in a bad way. It just really makes you think: I don't consider us particularly wealthy, but the comparison is stark when you realize this family's home could probably fit in the living room of our flat here in Lucknow. I can't speak for Allen, but I'm still very confused by my feelings about the time we spent there - you'll understand more as I elaborate - but basically, I was overwhelmed by their generosity, ashamed by how many things I take for granted, both here in Lucknow and in the States, and embarrassed of what might be expected of us "rich" Americans.... that's the truth of it. I'm not particularly proud of how I feel, but I guess when you grow up in a pretty rigid class-based society, it is really easy to forget how difficult life is for people who never had the same things I had growing up. All I (and I'm sure Allen felt similarly) wanted to do was show them, to the best of my ability, my sincerest thanks and appreciation for opening up their home to us, for all the food they fed us, and for doing their best to make us feel welcome and like a part of the family.

But there is something that blocks that message from being communicated smoothly and easily: cultural norms. There were many moments (if I can presume to speak for the both of us) where we really didn't know what was going on, but were trying to play along because we didn't want to offend anyone. It was hardest on Allen because not only was he trying to listen to 8 different people speaking to him in rapid-fire Urdu, but he was also trying to translate to me what was being said as well as translate my responses back to everyone. But beyond just the sheer language barrier, I also felt like we weren't prepared for all the forms of etiquette - where's Ms. Manners when you need her!

For instance, after our arrival, we were ushered to the spot of honor next to grandma on one of the beds. We were then presented with a tray of savory and sweet foods, which the wife motioned to me that she would feed me and I would feed her. We're figuring that that was a gesture to show us that we are considered like family -- I was asked, as the wife, because the wives are the markers of the family (more on that later). I didn't mind doing this - I just had wished maybe I had known what it had meant at the time... did I look properly grateful? Was I doing what she expected?

Most of the rest of the afternoon was taken up with singing performances (Allen had brought his audio recorder, so we got feed from the father, grandmother, and eldest boy) and discussions with the children about school and all manner of things. We were interrupted at one point when a cow came to the door --- the littlest one spent a good amount of time trying to shoo it away

At some point the eldest daughter took out some costume jewelry and made signals to get me to put it on. I don't really have a better way of describing it - it wasn't real, but was very sparkly, Barbie-doll jewelry. I was happy to play along: finally a game I could completely participate in without translation - everyone understands "pretty".

But it didn't end with the jewelry: then came the dupatta, and then they were insisting that I put on the matching salwar kameez. They had the boys leave the house while I had an audience of about 7 ladies while they were trying to get me into the clothes. You'll notice that the pants bunch up at the ankles, well that is because they are almost impossible to get over your heel or anywhere past your calf. I'm told these types of pants are good for the winter because the fabric bunches up - but frankly they seem more like another tourture device for women - when else would it take you 5 minutes to put on pants?

Basically, by the time the audience showed up and the eldest daughter was shoving my foot into the pants (now I know how the ugly stepsisters felt like...) it became clear that I wasn't going to easily give these clothes back and was seriously concerned that I might have to cut the pants off in order to get out of them.

It was awkward being made to feel like a Barbie doll - a big giant (because remember, I am bigger than most of the women here - in all senses of that word) gora Barbie doll. I don't normally dress up in jewelry, or wear fancy clothes that I think I will break, or wear make-up ... or do any of these things for an audience ... But I felt like we had entered this slippery slope, so I would rather play along than offend anyone ...

But things got really awkward when they strenuously insisted that we KEEP the clothes - Allen looked terrified, whereas I was confident there was no way I was making it out of these clothes without ripping them. We both were at a complete loss for what to do, what accepting a gift like this meant, particularly when we imagined that the money used to purchase these clothes could have been better spent on their children. We felt guilty and awkward and trapped because all of them would not hear of us giving back the clothes or the jewelry .... the mother even gave me two more of her adjustable rings.

We left with great smiles on our faces and promises of a speedy return and a ton of pictures of family we're intending to print for them ------ but we felt pretty miserable. I'm pretty sure Allen's brain was on the verge of exploding - so many solid hours of Urdu speaking had taken a lot out of him... and I was envisioning having to use scissors to get out of my new "gift" (thankfully it only took about 7 minutes of tugging...)

We didn't know what to make of any of it - so we talked to Allen's teachers at the institute and they assured us that there was nothing to worry or feel awkward about. They guess that, as it is traditional to give gifts of clothing at Eid - and all gifts of this nature are usually presented to the WIFE only --- that everything was totally above board and that they had just been presenting me with a gift that had been waiting for me since my first arrival.

Which, once said made perfect sense. We hadn't come empty handed either, we brought our Eid gifts for them (5 "I heart NY" t-shirts for the kids), some paperweights - which apparently can be used to smooth the tabla heads, barfi (sweets), and a liter of cold drink (soda).

But the whole "presenting substantial gifts only to the wife and children" thing (amongst other things) was definitely what took us by surprise.

I guess, we just still have a lot to learn...