Anyone that has any background with India will immediately tell you how complicated it is. Each state functions virtuously autonomously and proudly maintains its own unique culture. The cultural diversity that encompasses the entire continent of Europe is comparable the diversity within India.
However at the risk of oversimplifying the issue I am realizing more and more that India can primarily be divided into 2 very separate and very distinct nations. The privileged and the unprivileged.
The world is taking notice of India. Companies are shifting their efforts to tap into the supposed market of 1.3 billion people. However when 70% of the nation lives in villages, most without running water water and consistent electricity and 35% can't even sign their own name, the new billboards boasting of 3G networks might as well be in yiddish. When you live hand to mouth on just a few dollars a day the choice between Pepsi and Coke is an unfathomable luxury.
Frankly and sincerely, India has done a very bad job of educating and empowering the masses. This is why countries that got their independence at the same time (singapore, malaysia etc.) have far surpassed India. Even Korea whose economy was in shambles in the 60's has lapped India many times over when it comes to overall development.
The [growing] divide between between the privileged and the unprivileged is so great that the Prime Minster told the UN that it was on par with Apartheid. So when you read about how much India has developed understand it is a lopsided development. Although silicon valley is littered with top graduates from Indian universities, that is in no way an accurate representation of India.
India has done an excellent job portraying itself as a superpower (they even convinced Obama) so much so that the UN is considering giving them a permanent seat. But that development is only representative of 10% of the population.
India is growing fast. But I would submit that unless they make some significant changes-namely to empower the unprivileged they will never live up to the world's expectations.
for what its worth...
r
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
well hello monday, back so soon?
I have known for sometime that there were mice living in my AC unit (directly above my bed). They would run around and squeak once in awhile but I wasn't sure what exactly to do so I just hoped that somehow the problem would fix itself.
This morning I woke up at 5:30. Aside from a life or death situation (preferably my own) there is no good reason to be awake at that hour. my reason? The mice were being exceptionally active and chatty. So Manglesh (my roommate) and I cleaned out my room and began to take the AC unit off the wall. Out came 2 bats and about 2 months worth of bat poo. One flew back in, while the other began squeaking and flying around our flat.
I like a total pansy jumped back shouted some choice words and took cover while Manglesh grabbed the broom and began chasing it.
After the bat issue had been somewhat solved (one more is still MIA) I went into the kitchen and found pigeon poo from where they flew in the open window, and water everywhere from where the water tank had overflowed.
I then decided to go back to sleep and try starting monday again in a few hours. I slept too late, threw on dirty (but not stinky) clothes, skipped a shower and forgot to brush my teeth before running out the door.
happy monday.
This morning I woke up at 5:30. Aside from a life or death situation (preferably my own) there is no good reason to be awake at that hour. my reason? The mice were being exceptionally active and chatty. So Manglesh (my roommate) and I cleaned out my room and began to take the AC unit off the wall. Out came 2 bats and about 2 months worth of bat poo. One flew back in, while the other began squeaking and flying around our flat.
I like a total pansy jumped back shouted some choice words and took cover while Manglesh grabbed the broom and began chasing it.
After the bat issue had been somewhat solved (one more is still MIA) I went into the kitchen and found pigeon poo from where they flew in the open window, and water everywhere from where the water tank had overflowed.
I then decided to go back to sleep and try starting monday again in a few hours. I slept too late, threw on dirty (but not stinky) clothes, skipped a shower and forgot to brush my teeth before running out the door.
happy monday.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
My first kiss went a little like this....
I hate that song (for those that are fortunate enough to not know, the title to this post is a song). When I was in the states I was stunned not by the topic being sung about, but just the stupidity of the lyrics. Admit it. It’s stupid.
I have a lot of work to do. I am trying to finish it before Wednesday, and I am wondering if it will be possible to do so (my uncertainty is reinforced by the fact that I am blogging right now-not working...). So I came to a coffee shop in the city to focus and work but have found myself continually distracted by the stimulants around me.
Child labor. It breaks my heart and I see it every day. As I walked into the shop I was greeted by a 13 year old boy washing the glass door with a piece of old newspaper. He was working as a security guard. He is not in school, and at this rate can expect to remain in poverty forever.
The homeless. Homelessness is quite different here. Everywhere we are told don’t give money to the homeless- its harmful, doesn’t solve the problem etc. I believe there is a lot of truth in that but the man I claim to follow said “give to everyone who asks of you.” there are no caveats- give to everyone who asks of you. As I sat engrossed in my work I noticed a dirty 9 year old boy standing outside the glass window staring at those of us inside. We both knew he was separated by infinitely more than the half inch thick glass. He watched as we sipped our coffees, laughed, and enjoyed the cool AC. Jesus’ words surfaced immediately but before I could get up one of the workers opened the door to shew him away back into the street.
Music. The music is a conglomeration of western/bollywood/traditional[er] Indian. the speakers will throb with a popular flamboyant bollywood dance song only to be followed by “my first kiss...” (I don’t even know who the artist is who sings that song).
Customers. There are 2 girls sitting across from me having a great time laughing and talking. The man to my right keeps yelling “babu!!!” (literally “little brother”), just to make sure they still know he is in control. And I sit here working on a project to mobilize workers to come here.
The contrast between the songs from my country shaking the weary speakers, and the young boy standing outside looking in longingly stuns me. I wonder if this was the image Jesus had in mind when he told the parable of the wedding banquet.
I have a lot of work to do. I am trying to finish it before Wednesday, and I am wondering if it will be possible to do so (my uncertainty is reinforced by the fact that I am blogging right now-not working...). So I came to a coffee shop in the city to focus and work but have found myself continually distracted by the stimulants around me.
Child labor. It breaks my heart and I see it every day. As I walked into the shop I was greeted by a 13 year old boy washing the glass door with a piece of old newspaper. He was working as a security guard. He is not in school, and at this rate can expect to remain in poverty forever.
The homeless. Homelessness is quite different here. Everywhere we are told don’t give money to the homeless- its harmful, doesn’t solve the problem etc. I believe there is a lot of truth in that but the man I claim to follow said “give to everyone who asks of you.” there are no caveats- give to everyone who asks of you. As I sat engrossed in my work I noticed a dirty 9 year old boy standing outside the glass window staring at those of us inside. We both knew he was separated by infinitely more than the half inch thick glass. He watched as we sipped our coffees, laughed, and enjoyed the cool AC. Jesus’ words surfaced immediately but before I could get up one of the workers opened the door to shew him away back into the street.
Music. The music is a conglomeration of western/bollywood/traditional[er] Indian. the speakers will throb with a popular flamboyant bollywood dance song only to be followed by “my first kiss...” (I don’t even know who the artist is who sings that song).
Customers. There are 2 girls sitting across from me having a great time laughing and talking. The man to my right keeps yelling “babu!!!” (literally “little brother”), just to make sure they still know he is in control. And I sit here working on a project to mobilize workers to come here.
The contrast between the songs from my country shaking the weary speakers, and the young boy standing outside looking in longingly stuns me. I wonder if this was the image Jesus had in mind when he told the parable of the wedding banquet.
Monday, November 08, 2010
A trip to the barber shop
I am suffering from early onset balding. However I refuse to be a victim and I have decided to take control of my life and show my rebellious hair that I am still in control- by cutting it all off.
This has lead me to quite enjoy my trips to the barber shop. A hair cut and a shave cost right around $2 and have thus become a regular part of my schedule. Today I walked to the barber shop and because of the rain noticed some had left their shoes outside the door. I briefly examined the shoes and then pictured the feet that must have been wearing them. Such a mental picture was just enough to persuade me to [at least] tentatively keep mine on. I walked in and saw the owner, with his shoes on, reading todays Telugu paper. He didn’t seem to notice me so I kept wiping off my shoes on the mat louder and louder. It didn’t work so I cleared my throat. That also didn’t work. So I walked up to him and said “hello. Sir. Yes. I want a hair cut.” This invasion of his personal space got me little more than an exhale out of his nostrils. But I refused to be deterred and began to walk toward the chair. This did the job. He sat up and shouted, “VISHNU!!!!!”
Vishnu is the gentleman that usually cuts my hair. He poked his head out of a back room, and upon seeing me was overcome with what seemed like happiness (or maybe hope for a big tip, but I will tell myself the previous). He was barefoot, wearing slacks and a fluorescent orange polo shirt and assumed the jumping jack position (arms and legs out in 4 different directions). In spite of such an entry still the first thing I notice about him every time is his mustache. It is fair to say that such a mustache could make any man second guess his ability to grow facial hair. Some times I catch myself looking at it instead of his eyes wondering if it could be his own “magic hat” from which he pulls a white rabbit.
He knows my routine, so he immediately set to work. I find haircuts incredibly relaxing, so it is not uncommon for me to close my eyes and begin to doze off. This time I was jolted out of my stupor by a pair of his scissors up my nose. Apparently while trimming my own meager mustache he noticed a few nose hairs. He set to work on those as well with the fervor of a mad lumberjack.
After this he looks at me in the mirror and asks “oil massage?” Of course I couldn’t turn down such an offer (to be fair I thought he meant head massage), and replied in the affirmative. He removed a small bottle of red something from the shelf and lubed up my freshly shaved head until it resembled a greasy ball bearing. This time he got “in the zone” and exceeded all previously set “norms.” He cracked every bone in my neck, back, arms and hands. I have never felt so “loose” (don’t take that out of context) in all my life. I paid the $2.50 for my hair cut and shave, and $1 for the 15 minute massage. Honestly, where else in the world could you get all that for less than $4?
As I walked home I stopped by Satish’s shop. He knows me and lets me keep a tab with him. I paid my previous tab and bought a dozen eggs and some onions. Satish is a smoker and was attacked by his angry lungs as he held my groceries. I took my freshly garnished goods consoling myself with the fact that eggs have shells and onions skin.
This was normal, and I love it. Nowhere else could you experience so much with so little money. Welcome to my life.
Incredible India.
r
This has lead me to quite enjoy my trips to the barber shop. A hair cut and a shave cost right around $2 and have thus become a regular part of my schedule. Today I walked to the barber shop and because of the rain noticed some had left their shoes outside the door. I briefly examined the shoes and then pictured the feet that must have been wearing them. Such a mental picture was just enough to persuade me to [at least] tentatively keep mine on. I walked in and saw the owner, with his shoes on, reading todays Telugu paper. He didn’t seem to notice me so I kept wiping off my shoes on the mat louder and louder. It didn’t work so I cleared my throat. That also didn’t work. So I walked up to him and said “hello. Sir. Yes. I want a hair cut.” This invasion of his personal space got me little more than an exhale out of his nostrils. But I refused to be deterred and began to walk toward the chair. This did the job. He sat up and shouted, “VISHNU!!!!!”
Vishnu is the gentleman that usually cuts my hair. He poked his head out of a back room, and upon seeing me was overcome with what seemed like happiness (or maybe hope for a big tip, but I will tell myself the previous). He was barefoot, wearing slacks and a fluorescent orange polo shirt and assumed the jumping jack position (arms and legs out in 4 different directions). In spite of such an entry still the first thing I notice about him every time is his mustache. It is fair to say that such a mustache could make any man second guess his ability to grow facial hair. Some times I catch myself looking at it instead of his eyes wondering if it could be his own “magic hat” from which he pulls a white rabbit.
He knows my routine, so he immediately set to work. I find haircuts incredibly relaxing, so it is not uncommon for me to close my eyes and begin to doze off. This time I was jolted out of my stupor by a pair of his scissors up my nose. Apparently while trimming my own meager mustache he noticed a few nose hairs. He set to work on those as well with the fervor of a mad lumberjack.
After this he looks at me in the mirror and asks “oil massage?” Of course I couldn’t turn down such an offer (to be fair I thought he meant head massage), and replied in the affirmative. He removed a small bottle of red something from the shelf and lubed up my freshly shaved head until it resembled a greasy ball bearing. This time he got “in the zone” and exceeded all previously set “norms.” He cracked every bone in my neck, back, arms and hands. I have never felt so “loose” (don’t take that out of context) in all my life. I paid the $2.50 for my hair cut and shave, and $1 for the 15 minute massage. Honestly, where else in the world could you get all that for less than $4?
As I walked home I stopped by Satish’s shop. He knows me and lets me keep a tab with him. I paid my previous tab and bought a dozen eggs and some onions. Satish is a smoker and was attacked by his angry lungs as he held my groceries. I took my freshly garnished goods consoling myself with the fact that eggs have shells and onions skin.
This was normal, and I love it. Nowhere else could you experience so much with so little money. Welcome to my life.
Incredible India.
r
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Diwali!
Diwali (dee-val-ee)
I think Diwali might be the happiest time of the year here. The debilitating heat of summer is fading into little more than a memory with temperatures in the mid 70’s every day. Night temperatures dip into what could certainly be considered “cold” or at least “chilly.”
Diwali is called The Festival of Lights. Although certainly true, practically speaking this is not the first descriptor that comes to my mind. I would name it “The Festival of Explosions.”
As I drove in from the city today I swerved around conspicuously placed advertisements for fireworks, each of which proclaimed itself “BEST IN THE WORLD.” At one intersection there was a life size version of Big Foot wielding a sub machine gun. Happy holidays.
Now technically Diwali lasts for 10 days, but it all culminates with a big bang tomorrow evening. People will set candles outside their doors leave gifts of food and trinkets for their favored gods in their domestic shrines. In addition they will paint ornate multi-colored murals all over the ground. At one large bookstore after ascending on the escalator you are greeted with such a flamboyant piece of art. Although certainly beautiful I wasn’t really sure if I should walk on it, or tip toe around it (I chose the latter, I may have been the only one, I don’t know). One of my neighbors will pay homage to the resident ant mound and offer both a mural, and gifts to the ants.
Now my flat (apartment) sits behind 2 restaurants both of which are open very late. Most of the firecrackers will be detonated in the earlier evening, however the employees at said restaurants never want to miss out on the fun and will begin their own celebration around 3am. Beneath my window.
I really enjoyed Diwali last year. With a complete absence of [enforced] laws regarding such explosions the whole city turned into a party of some form. Small children threw strings of firecrackers at busses and cars before running away laughing into their parent’s arms. People filled the streets (during traffic) seeing how long the wick would last before releasing their perfectly timed experiment. I expect this can become a journalist’s thanksgiving as the next day’s paper seemed to be littered with stories of festivities gone awry.
Diwali is tomorrow. boom.
r
I think Diwali might be the happiest time of the year here. The debilitating heat of summer is fading into little more than a memory with temperatures in the mid 70’s every day. Night temperatures dip into what could certainly be considered “cold” or at least “chilly.”
Diwali is called The Festival of Lights. Although certainly true, practically speaking this is not the first descriptor that comes to my mind. I would name it “The Festival of Explosions.”
As I drove in from the city today I swerved around conspicuously placed advertisements for fireworks, each of which proclaimed itself “BEST IN THE WORLD.” At one intersection there was a life size version of Big Foot wielding a sub machine gun. Happy holidays.
Now technically Diwali lasts for 10 days, but it all culminates with a big bang tomorrow evening. People will set candles outside their doors leave gifts of food and trinkets for their favored gods in their domestic shrines. In addition they will paint ornate multi-colored murals all over the ground. At one large bookstore after ascending on the escalator you are greeted with such a flamboyant piece of art. Although certainly beautiful I wasn’t really sure if I should walk on it, or tip toe around it (I chose the latter, I may have been the only one, I don’t know). One of my neighbors will pay homage to the resident ant mound and offer both a mural, and gifts to the ants.
Now my flat (apartment) sits behind 2 restaurants both of which are open very late. Most of the firecrackers will be detonated in the earlier evening, however the employees at said restaurants never want to miss out on the fun and will begin their own celebration around 3am. Beneath my window.
I really enjoyed Diwali last year. With a complete absence of [enforced] laws regarding such explosions the whole city turned into a party of some form. Small children threw strings of firecrackers at busses and cars before running away laughing into their parent’s arms. People filled the streets (during traffic) seeing how long the wick would last before releasing their perfectly timed experiment. I expect this can become a journalist’s thanksgiving as the next day’s paper seemed to be littered with stories of festivities gone awry.
Diwali is tomorrow. boom.
r
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
kindness V.S. firmness
One of the fascinating things I have seen are disagreements. It is quite normal for people to yell, scream and insult the other (who is clearly the one in the wrong) in almost a vocal wrestling match. Both parties will flex their power and the first one to tap out must clearly be in the wrong.
Now to be honest it is nothing personal. Both people can walk away from a “heated” tussle completely unfazed and at the next meeting pretend as if they were natural born blood brothers.
I can’t do that. I am not a yeller. And I don’t really care to engage in a race to see who is most powerful. However the problem for me has been that sometimes, people do not plan to respond apart from intimidation. That isn’t meant to sound offensive. It is the simple fact that the people here have significantly thicker skin than me. Thats all.
A story.
I have a MacBook. I love it. it is pretty bare-bones and I quickly filled up my hard drive with important things like music and movies. So i looked at upgrading to a 500GB hard drive. I was quoted at just over $100 including installation. I thought WOOHOO! The drive had to be ordered and 2 days before installation I found out that the Mac store was putting in a Singaporean one that he promised* was just as good as MAC. Maybe. I was skeptical, but what put me over the edge was I knew that would invalidate my warranty. So I said no. Return it. I want my money back. I didn’t raise my voice, I didn’t yell, I wasn’t even that angry. He refused, said it was impossible. No refund. Ever.
So I drove to his office and sat down with him. I told him that I was not aware he was putting in a different brand, and the consequences of it, and that I refused (this would be rude at home) to pay for it. that I needed all my money back in cash (I paid with card). He called his supervisor, and we 3 talked. I told the supervisor how good a job his technician had done in the past, I didn’t blame him for anything, but that I was in a dilemma and how could we fix it. That changed everything. Not only was there NO tension, yelling, or shows of power, but relationships were made stronger and I was refunded my $100 cash in less than 24 hours. The same thing in another culture handled that way could have been a fiasco of rudeness.
This was an example of it going well. It hasn’t always ended so happy, but that has been my benchmark. I am finding that I have to be much much firmer that I am used to, which in my black and white thinking is mutually exclusive of kindness, compassion, forgiveness and love, but I am learning to hold both- kindness and firmness.
its a process. enjoy it.
r
Now to be honest it is nothing personal. Both people can walk away from a “heated” tussle completely unfazed and at the next meeting pretend as if they were natural born blood brothers.
I can’t do that. I am not a yeller. And I don’t really care to engage in a race to see who is most powerful. However the problem for me has been that sometimes, people do not plan to respond apart from intimidation. That isn’t meant to sound offensive. It is the simple fact that the people here have significantly thicker skin than me. Thats all.
A story.
I have a MacBook. I love it. it is pretty bare-bones and I quickly filled up my hard drive with important things like music and movies. So i looked at upgrading to a 500GB hard drive. I was quoted at just over $100 including installation. I thought WOOHOO! The drive had to be ordered and 2 days before installation I found out that the Mac store was putting in a Singaporean one that he promised* was just as good as MAC. Maybe. I was skeptical, but what put me over the edge was I knew that would invalidate my warranty. So I said no. Return it. I want my money back. I didn’t raise my voice, I didn’t yell, I wasn’t even that angry. He refused, said it was impossible. No refund. Ever.
So I drove to his office and sat down with him. I told him that I was not aware he was putting in a different brand, and the consequences of it, and that I refused (this would be rude at home) to pay for it. that I needed all my money back in cash (I paid with card). He called his supervisor, and we 3 talked. I told the supervisor how good a job his technician had done in the past, I didn’t blame him for anything, but that I was in a dilemma and how could we fix it. That changed everything. Not only was there NO tension, yelling, or shows of power, but relationships were made stronger and I was refunded my $100 cash in less than 24 hours. The same thing in another culture handled that way could have been a fiasco of rudeness.
This was an example of it going well. It hasn’t always ended so happy, but that has been my benchmark. I am finding that I have to be much much firmer that I am used to, which in my black and white thinking is mutually exclusive of kindness, compassion, forgiveness and love, but I am learning to hold both- kindness and firmness.
its a process. enjoy it.
r
Gestures
They say that communication is 90% body language. But I wonder if the body language of the one to coin the phrase said “I am lying.” Remember what crossing your fingers meant when you were a kid? Regardless, I certainly agree that a significant amount of communication is with your body. I also believe that Indians are far better than me at this. Here are a few of the gestures that I have learned.
the bobble head- Made famous by the tacky dashboard ornament in your first car. Here it is similar. It looks like you are trying to touch your ears to your neck, but not in a rigid side to side movement. More of a flowing loosening your neck movement. This simply means “I acknowledge that words are coming out of your mouth.” It does not mean yes, or no, or I agree, or even that I am listening to you. I just means "I see that you are talking right now." If you want some clarification, an accented “no?” on the end of your sentence will suffice. If the other party agrees he/she will tell you, if they do not agree, don't understand or weren’t listening you will get another bobble head. Occasionally I have switched to spanish in the middle of my sentence. If they respond with a bobble head I know they don't understand or aren't listening.
the raised pinky- If you make a fist raise it parallel with your shoulder, and stick your pinky straight out, as conspicuously as possible. The means “I have to pee.” technically the 2 fingers (pointer and middle) means I have to poop, but I have never seen that used. In the day to day the raised pinky suffices for both.
the wrist of fatalism- This is my favorite. Start with your forearm perpendicular to your body (elbow bent at 90 degrees) palm facing down. Then quickly rotate the wrist until the palm faces up. During the rotation though the pinky and ring finger should be brought in, and the other 3 left out. This is technically is followed by the phrase “what to do?” (except the words sound more like “watudu”), but often the words are left out. This can mean many things. Everything from I don’t know/care to you can pee wherever you want. If you are asking someone a question and are answered by the wrist flick you are free to proceed however you would like.
Drinking hand- This is tricky and I have messed it up a few times. You raise your hand to your mouth as if holding an invisible glass. As it gets close to the mouth you shake the hand. This literally means Drink? Depending on the context it can be do you wanna get a coke with me? or would you like some water? or did you have something to drink? However if the pinky finger begins to inch its way out from the other 3 the gesture will take on a new meaning. Said motion with an extended pinky means “shall we get a beer?” The extended pinky means the drinking will be exclusively alcoholic. Now I work in a very conservative organization, and going up to someone during working hours and gesturing “do you want a beer?” when I mean to say “do you want to go to the canteen and get a soda with me” can be a serious problem.
The flashing hands- Extend one hand (preferably the dominant one) and bring all 5 fingers to a point facing in front of you. Then open (not quite fully though) and close your hand a number of times. People on the road were doing this to me for a week before I had any clue. In brazil this means there are too many people on the bike, and my brazilian friends were completely lost (it is not uncommon to see 4-6 people on a motorcycle). It really only means that your lights are on. It is funny to me because many other abnormal things (cows in the road, people driving into oncoming traffic, pimped auto rickshaws etc.) don’t even receive a second glance. However if your head lights are on that is just over the top, you can be sure you will be corrected.
Hand over the bump- raise your hand to head level and move it in a 1 foot wide semi circle. This means next. Usually used in the context of directions, but that isn’t a hard and fast rule.
The wiggly why- Begin with your forearm outstretched perpendicular to your body (similar to the wrist of fatalism above). Your palm (if you are using your right hand) facing to the left. Open your fingers a bit and and wiggle the wrist. Wiggle as if having a pole running through the forearm into the tip of the middle finger around which the hand is rotating/wiggling. This is best translated as ?. As the recipient it is your responsibility to know what the question is and how to answer it. I like this one also because if I am distributing the wiggly why the burden of communication completely put on the other person.
Invisible sweaty brow- fairly simple as well. bring all fingers to a point and touch to the forehead. Then throw them down as if discarding a sweaty rag. This means “finished” with the implication of “good riddance,” or “I am through with this/that.”
the 5 minute pinch- bring all 5 fingers to a point. Make sure the point is facing directly up to the ceiling and then tap your thumb against the other 4. This literally means “5 more minutes.” However 5 more minutes means “I need more time.” More time could be anything from 30 seconds (it almost never is) to 1 more month. As the recepient it is your responsibility to understand the increments being discussed (seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks etc.)
For example:
Approaching the restaurant:
Security guard: Flashing hands
Me: bobble head.
Enter the restaurant
Me- point to a table
Server- bobble head.
I sit down
Me: Drinking hand
Server: drinking with raised pinky and raised eyebrows (implying question)
Me: exaggerated frown.
Server: bobble head. 5 minute pinch.
Server brings water.
Me: raised pinky
Server: Wrist of fatalism
Me: Wiggly why (meaning I can’t pee here at this table)
Server: Hand over the bump (motioning toward an adjacent open field).
Returning back from the field to sit down
Me. Invisible sweaty brow
Enjoy meal.
;)
the bobble head- Made famous by the tacky dashboard ornament in your first car. Here it is similar. It looks like you are trying to touch your ears to your neck, but not in a rigid side to side movement. More of a flowing loosening your neck movement. This simply means “I acknowledge that words are coming out of your mouth.” It does not mean yes, or no, or I agree, or even that I am listening to you. I just means "I see that you are talking right now." If you want some clarification, an accented “no?” on the end of your sentence will suffice. If the other party agrees he/she will tell you, if they do not agree, don't understand or weren’t listening you will get another bobble head. Occasionally I have switched to spanish in the middle of my sentence. If they respond with a bobble head I know they don't understand or aren't listening.
the raised pinky- If you make a fist raise it parallel with your shoulder, and stick your pinky straight out, as conspicuously as possible. The means “I have to pee.” technically the 2 fingers (pointer and middle) means I have to poop, but I have never seen that used. In the day to day the raised pinky suffices for both.
the wrist of fatalism- This is my favorite. Start with your forearm perpendicular to your body (elbow bent at 90 degrees) palm facing down. Then quickly rotate the wrist until the palm faces up. During the rotation though the pinky and ring finger should be brought in, and the other 3 left out. This is technically is followed by the phrase “what to do?” (except the words sound more like “watudu”), but often the words are left out. This can mean many things. Everything from I don’t know/care to you can pee wherever you want. If you are asking someone a question and are answered by the wrist flick you are free to proceed however you would like.
Drinking hand- This is tricky and I have messed it up a few times. You raise your hand to your mouth as if holding an invisible glass. As it gets close to the mouth you shake the hand. This literally means Drink? Depending on the context it can be do you wanna get a coke with me? or would you like some water? or did you have something to drink? However if the pinky finger begins to inch its way out from the other 3 the gesture will take on a new meaning. Said motion with an extended pinky means “shall we get a beer?” The extended pinky means the drinking will be exclusively alcoholic. Now I work in a very conservative organization, and going up to someone during working hours and gesturing “do you want a beer?” when I mean to say “do you want to go to the canteen and get a soda with me” can be a serious problem.
The flashing hands- Extend one hand (preferably the dominant one) and bring all 5 fingers to a point facing in front of you. Then open (not quite fully though) and close your hand a number of times. People on the road were doing this to me for a week before I had any clue. In brazil this means there are too many people on the bike, and my brazilian friends were completely lost (it is not uncommon to see 4-6 people on a motorcycle). It really only means that your lights are on. It is funny to me because many other abnormal things (cows in the road, people driving into oncoming traffic, pimped auto rickshaws etc.) don’t even receive a second glance. However if your head lights are on that is just over the top, you can be sure you will be corrected.
Hand over the bump- raise your hand to head level and move it in a 1 foot wide semi circle. This means next. Usually used in the context of directions, but that isn’t a hard and fast rule.
The wiggly why- Begin with your forearm outstretched perpendicular to your body (similar to the wrist of fatalism above). Your palm (if you are using your right hand) facing to the left. Open your fingers a bit and and wiggle the wrist. Wiggle as if having a pole running through the forearm into the tip of the middle finger around which the hand is rotating/wiggling. This is best translated as ?. As the recipient it is your responsibility to know what the question is and how to answer it. I like this one also because if I am distributing the wiggly why the burden of communication completely put on the other person.
Invisible sweaty brow- fairly simple as well. bring all fingers to a point and touch to the forehead. Then throw them down as if discarding a sweaty rag. This means “finished” with the implication of “good riddance,” or “I am through with this/that.”
the 5 minute pinch- bring all 5 fingers to a point. Make sure the point is facing directly up to the ceiling and then tap your thumb against the other 4. This literally means “5 more minutes.” However 5 more minutes means “I need more time.” More time could be anything from 30 seconds (it almost never is) to 1 more month. As the recepient it is your responsibility to understand the increments being discussed (seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks etc.)
For example:
Approaching the restaurant:
Security guard: Flashing hands
Me: bobble head.
Enter the restaurant
Me- point to a table
Server- bobble head.
I sit down
Me: Drinking hand
Server: drinking with raised pinky and raised eyebrows (implying question)
Me: exaggerated frown.
Server: bobble head. 5 minute pinch.
Server brings water.
Me: raised pinky
Server: Wrist of fatalism
Me: Wiggly why (meaning I can’t pee here at this table)
Server: Hand over the bump (motioning toward an adjacent open field).
Returning back from the field to sit down
Me. Invisible sweaty brow
Enjoy meal.
;)
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Truth or Comfort
I have a prayer. Before I tell you what I am praying for myself though I need to explain the background.
For the last year I have been intrigued by our ability to lie to ourselves. I have seen some people blissfully remain in their own fabrication of reality (in which of course they successful, needed, wise, informed etc.), with no apparent intention to find "truth." For example, take a debate between Allister McGrath (a leading Christian apologist) and Christopher Hitchens (a leading atheist apologist. I can guarantee you that 9 times out of ten, regardless of which debater "won," both Christians and Atheists will leave more sure of their previous beliefs.
Another example. I have never met someone that thought they were a below average teacher. However we could all attest to the fact that not only would logic demand there be many such teachers, but we have all suffered through their classes at one point.
Last example. I have never met a worker come off the "field" and say "I blew it." I could have done more. I could have adapted better, I was selfish, and a burden to those I worked with. However from this side I can see that some in all honesty would qualify as the proverbial "John Mark." These people have no idea though. They will return to their homes, and churches, and friends and accept all the praise and honor due to the most seasoned worker.
I have asked why is this? How can I be sure I am not self deceived. I initially thought I would pursue fellowship and community in an effort to prevent it. However I have seen people that are only able to remain self deceived with the help of "community." (this is how we can all leave an unproductive meeting excited at what we "accomplished").
Here is what I have concluded. We love comfort more than truth. We all do it. And if we love comfort more than truth we will gladly sacrifice truth for it.
I do want to be clear that this is something we all do. I am not writing this thinking of one person or situation. It is something I have seen in my own heart. When someone annoys me I can walk away and let that seed of irritation grow into some huge scenario completely devoid of truth and severed from reality, but in which, to my delight, I am justified in my irritation.
So my prayer. "Lord cause me to love truth more than comfort. Cause me to think rightly of myself and the world around me." I have a growing respect for those ahead of me that I see are doing this [increasingly difficult task] well
Some books I am reading on this:
Miroslav Volf "The End of Memory. Remembering Rightly in a Violent World"
Gregg A. Ten Elshof "I Told Me So. Self Deception and the Christian Life."
r
For the last year I have been intrigued by our ability to lie to ourselves. I have seen some people blissfully remain in their own fabrication of reality (in which of course they successful, needed, wise, informed etc.), with no apparent intention to find "truth." For example, take a debate between Allister McGrath (a leading Christian apologist) and Christopher Hitchens (a leading atheist apologist. I can guarantee you that 9 times out of ten, regardless of which debater "won," both Christians and Atheists will leave more sure of their previous beliefs.
Another example. I have never met someone that thought they were a below average teacher. However we could all attest to the fact that not only would logic demand there be many such teachers, but we have all suffered through their classes at one point.
Last example. I have never met a worker come off the "field" and say "I blew it." I could have done more. I could have adapted better, I was selfish, and a burden to those I worked with. However from this side I can see that some in all honesty would qualify as the proverbial "John Mark." These people have no idea though. They will return to their homes, and churches, and friends and accept all the praise and honor due to the most seasoned worker.
I have asked why is this? How can I be sure I am not self deceived. I initially thought I would pursue fellowship and community in an effort to prevent it. However I have seen people that are only able to remain self deceived with the help of "community." (this is how we can all leave an unproductive meeting excited at what we "accomplished").
Here is what I have concluded. We love comfort more than truth. We all do it. And if we love comfort more than truth we will gladly sacrifice truth for it.
I do want to be clear that this is something we all do. I am not writing this thinking of one person or situation. It is something I have seen in my own heart. When someone annoys me I can walk away and let that seed of irritation grow into some huge scenario completely devoid of truth and severed from reality, but in which, to my delight, I am justified in my irritation.
So my prayer. "Lord cause me to love truth more than comfort. Cause me to think rightly of myself and the world around me." I have a growing respect for those ahead of me that I see are doing this [increasingly difficult task] well
Some books I am reading on this:
Miroslav Volf "The End of Memory. Remembering Rightly in a Violent World"
Gregg A. Ten Elshof "I Told Me So. Self Deception and the Christian Life."
r
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