Tuesday, July 30, 2013
When people laugh, all of my insecurities come out and all I want to do is rush back to my house and hide. Over the years I have learned that when people laugh, it’s not at me, or at least they are not laughing at me to be mean. They are laughing, because they are surprised to see some of the many things I do.
One day I was heading to town, wearing official “Congolese clothing” of a wrap skirt, a matching shirt and low heels, riding on the back of a motorcycle. During my 20-minute ride, I heard people laughing, and clapping and whispering among themselves and I thought, “am I wearing this wrong? Am I showing my bottom? Do I have something on my face?” And then I realized they are not laughing AT me. They are laughing because I am a foreign person, doing exactly what the culture would do. How do other people go to town? Ride a motorcycle. Do you take other clothes with you and change once you get to town? No, you ride in the clothes you are planning to wear for the day. To them, it’s not a familiar sight, and to see me wearing a wrap skirt riding on a motorcycle just like they would do, releases a surprising fun-loving laugh.
Same thing has happened here and in all of the previous places we have lived, when I have learned a few words in the local language. To break the ice when meeting a new person, I like to be able to greet them. But the minute I open my mouth and say something, they laugh. Usually it’s not because I said the wrong word (although that happens more times than I wish to count), but because the person does not expect this foreigner to understand and speak THEIR language. It does break the ice, and it helps people know that we are here to try, and be a part of their culture.
The other day I was inspired to write this blog post. I was in the middle of my “normal” activity when it dawned on me, what would some of my friends in the states think if they truly saw some of the things that I do day in and day out. I called my motorcycle taxi driver, told him I needed to go to the market and then to a friend’s house. We went first to the market, where I was looking for a mop for my house. I had finally learned the good price, and the store to buy it from. We headed out, me wearing my skirt, while riding a motorcycle. I purchased my mop, and carried it in one hand while carrying other things in my other hand. As we were heading to my friend’s house, I started hearing those same laughs that ring in my ear, always reminding me that people are laughing at me. No, reminding me that they are laughing at the surprising sight OF me, carrying a mop, while riding a motorcycle, in a place that I obviously stand out in, because I am the whitest of white people.
I have to remind myself not to get insecure because people are not laughing AT me, they are laughing at the unlikely sight of a white person embracing their culture in ways not many people do.