There are some things I would like to explain. But rarely get the chance to. In person, I usually can't find the words, or am interrupted, or really don't care enough to argue about it - since a lot of our beliefs are subconsciously planted early and drive our attitudes and behaviours, and hearing from someone who confidently shares an opinion contrary to yours makes your homunculus metaphorically dig trenches and open fire.
I know because sometimes I'm in the trenches.
These blogposts are the peace accords: they make sense to the sovereign me, and help me come to terms with the crazies armed with uninformed opinions on the other end.
My stalker saw me another day, this time on the way to a Bible study after work, and followed me yelling my name until I literally could not ignore him any longer. This was hard anyway, since only one of my earphones works and the volume button my ipod is broken, so I've set it low. He wanted to visit. Great. Since he's only a tiny bit of a stalker in comparison to other stalkers, and I'm wary of accusing him of being a lecherous old goat on the off chance that he may not actually be one, I'm forced to pretend nonchalance until he offers a private massage or something. God only knows how many millions of women have had to deal with this sort of uncertainty in their lives when they should have been worrying about more important things – for example, world peace and universal access to chocolate.
My high school disciple is running out of things to ask me – I expect he will want to know the function and availability of a bra next. After at least ten minutes of deep sighs and fidgeting to indicate eye strain during our Bible study, he quietly wondered if I would give him my glasses. I stared at his outline in the darkness of our church and wondered if it would be morally wrong to give him a light tap. I have a weak arm and he seems to have a spectacularly thick head – I'm sure it would be fine...
I didn't. Obviously. Instead, I explained that glasses have different powers and that mine probably wouldn't help him.
He giggled.
I assured him that this was true. His disbelief was both palpable and understandable; I'd had a man confide just the other week that he was wearing glasses, not because he needed them, but for 'success.' By this scale, I've been succeeding since the age of four and my level at this point would probably blind lesser humans. In the end, he was forced to add my glasses to the growing list of things I would not provide.
As we left the church, he reminded me to not eat before our next Bible study so that God would listen to my prayers. I think he was half-joking about the last bit, but he definitely was serious about my fasting on general principle.
As I counted to ten, I resolved to look up some other anger management strategies because this would not save him if he caught me on the wrong week of the month.
“God will hear me no matter what. I will see you in a few days.” Try to be less annoying by then - for both our sakes.
Nearly everyone, at one time or another, has commented on the otherness of Banymulenge (ethnic Tutsis who are either ordinary citizens or ticking Trojan horses – depending on who is speaking). This is all the more jarring when it comes from an innocuous source over a random photo at a crowded reception.
You know those Banyamulenge – always sticking together.
“What?! It's just a joke!”
“It's a joke until times of conflict. Then--”
“Right, then we don't make those jokes.”
“Ye-- No! Then you remember those negative stereotypes.”
“Hmm.”
“You know, people say similar things about blacks in the US. There are certain jokes you make, but when there's some kind of racial conflict, those jokes stay in people's minds.”
“And they see that they're true!”
“Ye-- No! They get along fine normally, but the whites remember the negative stereotypes of blacks when there is some conflict!”
“Hmm.”
And I'm reminded again that every group needs to fear difference and stick to their own, no matter what people group they are or what they've faced side-by-side. And white people are no different! Whenever I've left Canada, I have been part of almost exclusively foreign groups, where we often spoke in English about how many shades of cray-cray the locals are. Of course, there were some close relationships built, but 'whites' mainly chose to stick together even if they were from vastly different countries because the gap doesn't feel so vast. And yet it's incomprehensible when Asians do that in the West or when Africans do it here!
I can't speak for all brown people, but I can tell you with 95% confidence that the majority of women are talking about what to cook, and the men about what to eat. Or we're making fun of someone in the general vicinity. Very rarely is the conversation centered around explosives.
As the wise old queen from A Bug's Life once said: This is our lot in life; it's not a lot, but it's our life.
The history of this region is slightly more bloody, and since many people can speak the same languages it can be dangerous to release pressure in that way. Instead, people who look similar tend to group together, go to the same churches, and visit neighbouring countries where they may have family and where they feel more comfortable. All locals do this along tribal divisions, but Banyamulenge are the only ones reprimanded for it. Because they are seen as treacherous snakes, which may, incidentally, provide some of their motivation to stick together.
We read a story once in high school about true names and their power to control – the power of words, in general, to give form and meaning to a situation that never was. I'd go even further now: Our thoughts shape reality. Our expectations about peoples and cultures shape our perception of their goals, motivations, and achievements.
Which is why aid workers' frustrations and resulting superiority complexes are so debilitating.
Which is why locals' suspicions and resulting caution is spilt oil next to an open flame.
Which is why mistrust is causing division and stagnation that go deeper than the various communities' (foreign, tribal, humanitarian, religious, development, emergency) capacity for unity and growth.
“I see how peoples are set against one another, and in silence, unknowingly, foolishly, obediently, innocently slay one another. ...[N]ow, for the first time, I see you are a man like me. I thought of your hand-grenades, of your bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late. Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony-- Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?
- Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front
I know because sometimes I'm in the trenches.
These blogposts are the peace accords: they make sense to the sovereign me, and help me come to terms with the crazies armed with uninformed opinions on the other end.
My stalker saw me another day, this time on the way to a Bible study after work, and followed me yelling my name until I literally could not ignore him any longer. This was hard anyway, since only one of my earphones works and the volume button my ipod is broken, so I've set it low. He wanted to visit. Great. Since he's only a tiny bit of a stalker in comparison to other stalkers, and I'm wary of accusing him of being a lecherous old goat on the off chance that he may not actually be one, I'm forced to pretend nonchalance until he offers a private massage or something. God only knows how many millions of women have had to deal with this sort of uncertainty in their lives when they should have been worrying about more important things – for example, world peace and universal access to chocolate.
My high school disciple is running out of things to ask me – I expect he will want to know the function and availability of a bra next. After at least ten minutes of deep sighs and fidgeting to indicate eye strain during our Bible study, he quietly wondered if I would give him my glasses. I stared at his outline in the darkness of our church and wondered if it would be morally wrong to give him a light tap. I have a weak arm and he seems to have a spectacularly thick head – I'm sure it would be fine...
I didn't. Obviously. Instead, I explained that glasses have different powers and that mine probably wouldn't help him.
He giggled.
I assured him that this was true. His disbelief was both palpable and understandable; I'd had a man confide just the other week that he was wearing glasses, not because he needed them, but for 'success.' By this scale, I've been succeeding since the age of four and my level at this point would probably blind lesser humans. In the end, he was forced to add my glasses to the growing list of things I would not provide.
As we left the church, he reminded me to not eat before our next Bible study so that God would listen to my prayers. I think he was half-joking about the last bit, but he definitely was serious about my fasting on general principle.
As I counted to ten, I resolved to look up some other anger management strategies because this would not save him if he caught me on the wrong week of the month.
“God will hear me no matter what. I will see you in a few days.” Try to be less annoying by then - for both our sakes.
Nearly everyone, at one time or another, has commented on the otherness of Banymulenge (ethnic Tutsis who are either ordinary citizens or ticking Trojan horses – depending on who is speaking). This is all the more jarring when it comes from an innocuous source over a random photo at a crowded reception.
You know those Banyamulenge – always sticking together.
“What?! It's just a joke!”
“It's a joke until times of conflict. Then--”
“Right, then we don't make those jokes.”
“Ye-- No! Then you remember those negative stereotypes.”
“Hmm.”
“You know, people say similar things about blacks in the US. There are certain jokes you make, but when there's some kind of racial conflict, those jokes stay in people's minds.”
“And they see that they're true!”
“Ye-- No! They get along fine normally, but the whites remember the negative stereotypes of blacks when there is some conflict!”
“Hmm.”
And I'm reminded again that every group needs to fear difference and stick to their own, no matter what people group they are or what they've faced side-by-side. And white people are no different! Whenever I've left Canada, I have been part of almost exclusively foreign groups, where we often spoke in English about how many shades of cray-cray the locals are. Of course, there were some close relationships built, but 'whites' mainly chose to stick together even if they were from vastly different countries because the gap doesn't feel so vast. And yet it's incomprehensible when Asians do that in the West or when Africans do it here!
I can't speak for all brown people, but I can tell you with 95% confidence that the majority of women are talking about what to cook, and the men about what to eat. Or we're making fun of someone in the general vicinity. Very rarely is the conversation centered around explosives.
As the wise old queen from A Bug's Life once said: This is our lot in life; it's not a lot, but it's our life.
The history of this region is slightly more bloody, and since many people can speak the same languages it can be dangerous to release pressure in that way. Instead, people who look similar tend to group together, go to the same churches, and visit neighbouring countries where they may have family and where they feel more comfortable. All locals do this along tribal divisions, but Banyamulenge are the only ones reprimanded for it. Because they are seen as treacherous snakes, which may, incidentally, provide some of their motivation to stick together.
We read a story once in high school about true names and their power to control – the power of words, in general, to give form and meaning to a situation that never was. I'd go even further now: Our thoughts shape reality. Our expectations about peoples and cultures shape our perception of their goals, motivations, and achievements.
Which is why aid workers' frustrations and resulting superiority complexes are so debilitating.
Which is why locals' suspicions and resulting caution is spilt oil next to an open flame.
Which is why mistrust is causing division and stagnation that go deeper than the various communities' (foreign, tribal, humanitarian, religious, development, emergency) capacity for unity and growth.
“I see how peoples are set against one another, and in silence, unknowingly, foolishly, obediently, innocently slay one another. ...[N]ow, for the first time, I see you are a man like me. I thought of your hand-grenades, of your bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late. Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony-- Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?
- Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front
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At the risk of sounding desperate - PLEASE WRITE TO ME!