“She is from America.” “She is a foreigner.”
This is how people introduced me to others the first few
weeks in Dharwad. Moreover, I found that people I met on buses, streets, shops
and markets always wanted to say hi/hello and ask me questions in Kannada,
their local language, which I unfortunately didn’t know at the time. Groups of
kids approached me for autographs and loved to converse in English with me.
Despite the fact that I wore kurta salwar and spoke Hindi, it was clear that I
stood out as an outsider, and curious faces stared at me almost everywhere I
went. This wasn’t that surprising, so I moved on and tried my best to stand out
less so that I could start feeling at home here.
What surprised me more is how uncomfortable I was with other
aspects of living here- dusty roads, stinky garbage all over the place, men
peeing on sides of the road, reckless drivers and their incessant honking, lack
of road signs, spicy breakfasts and the scarcity of non-vegetarian food. This
is because although I had spent the last 6 years in the United States, I was
born and raised in Nepal, a country with tremendous similarities in culture,
tradition and lifestyle (including stinky garbages, lound honking, lack of road
signs, dirty roads). I had thought these things would be easiest to deal with
for me compared to other Sandbox Fellows because almost everyone else grew up
in the States. But the first few weeks and months proved me wrong. Despite
having expected all of this and having been mentally prepared to deal with
cultural and lifestyle differences, I thought it would be difficult for me to
spend a year here. But I loved my work, and the enthusiasm I had to make a
difference in the organization that I have been working at encouraged me to
keep trying to mix in and make myself at home here. I wore kurta and saree to
work, spoke Hindi as much as I could, wore kajal, tika and bangles and pinned
my hair like other women do here and ate chapatti, idly, sambar and dosa.
It’s been about 5 months now, and things are very different.
I feel at home when I wander around the
streets of Dharwad, share lunch with my colleagues at work, when I
bargain with a shopkeeper for a good deal, or when I visit a colleague’s home
for an invited dinner.
“I think you are from North India. Are you from Punjab or Delhi?
I can tell that from your Hindi.” I can tell that people can’t quite reconcile
the facts that I have fair skin and lack a distinct South Asian look yet speak
fluent Hindi without much of an accent (thanks to all the Hindi movies I
watched as a kid), so they ask if I am from North India (as they know I can’t
be from South India). I hardly ever get introduced as “She is from America”
these days.
Does this mean I am culturally assimilated? I think it is
not possible for an outsider to completely assimilate in a different culture in
such a short period of time. I think I am now comfortable becoming (eating,
dressing up, talking) like one of them when I am outside my apartment and
making myself fit into their world. But I still eat bread, butter, cereal for
breakfast before I leave for work, then go home at the end of the day and love
to eat pasta, wear pajamas or shorts, and listen to tunes on my ipod.
Thankfully, the change from being what I am at home to being a “culturally
assimilated” outsider in Dharwad every morning when I leave for work is
effortless. The fact that people here are very friendly has also made my
assimilation swift and enjoyable.
This experience has made me more thoughtful about my own
culture and the differences among the cultures I have experienced in Nepal,
America and South India. I now value many things that I used to take for
granted and I have learned much about how cultural values influence people’s
attitudes towards life, family, education, and work.
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