It is very difficult to synthesize an experience as sweeping as one's arrival in Bangladesh, to find a reasonable thesis, when immediate observations range from "It's interesting that only those products that are made in Bangladesh are cheap relative to the dollar" to "Ooh! All the dogs have curly tails!"
However, one characteristic that does bind them together is the sense of time-expansion. When we arrived in Bangladesh a week ago, the days went on like weeks--each morning and afternoon was packed with new things, each a rush of activity and confusion. We've spent a few days at home, now, and the flow of time has snapped back to normal--sort of like a stretched-out sweater put through the wash.
Our guide to teaching English in a foreign country, a book called More Than a Native Speaker, talks about "culture-shock" or, more appropriately, "cultural fatigue." The author, Don Snow, who studied at MSU, breaks this effect into two components. One is the increased energy output that usually accompanies the transition to a new country and culture. I think the time-expansion of the past week is indicative of that. The other component came as a surprise to me. Snow writes that when you travel away from home, you're cut off from your usual sources of attention and inspiration (family, friends, familiar places) so you actually have less energy input, as well. Increased energy output plus decreased energy input equals fatigue.
Now, I had expected to be busy adapting to a strange culture, but I hadn't thought about the effects of being simultaneously cut off from of my own culture. Who thinks about having their own culture, anyway? Culture is something you see on National Geographic specials, right? Suddenly deprived of The New York Times, McDonald's, and anyone who understands the words "wanna" and "gonna," I begin to see the shape of my own culture, and long for it! I never thought I'd long for McDonald's, but I've never been without it, either. (The desire for a clean, reliable restaurant in Bangladesh cannot be understated!) Nor have I been without signs and billboards in my language, familiar snacks and soft drinks, and reliable phones. I understand why US ex-patriates form little enclaves in countries like Bangladesh--they are erecting fortresses of Americana in a place that, initially, offers little cultural comfort.
I say "initially," of course, because I do not think that Americans can only ever draw comfort from the trappings of America. Already, there are aspects of Bangladesh that I find energizing! The acrid smell of Dhaka air, I think, is the smell of something about to happen. (Dan thinks it is the smell of noxious emissions.) Less fancifully, when Dan and I return home at night, the house-boys Moshi and Alumgi always greet us with enthusiasm, treating us to a round of excited hello's and salaam-walaikkum's which we return with handshakes and walaikkum-asalaam's. It's great! Moshi and Alumgi speak about four words of English put together. They don't watch MTV. This is strictly a Bangladesh thing.
So, I am confident that I will find sources of attention and inspiration in Dhaka to replace, temporarily, the ones in East Lansing and Troy that are mostly unavailable to me. ("Mostly" because email messages and phone calls from home are, of course, still a great source of energy!) In the meantime, though... I really do miss McDonald's.
-RS.
Front Page...