Minefields and Flowerfields of Crossing Cultures

Part 1

Recently, on a work trip to Jordan, I was marveling - again- as I watched my Jordanian colleague deftly capture the proceedings from a group discussion on flipchart paper in Arabic.   Silly but it still shocks me how anyone can write that beautiful, magical script at all, much less so quickly.   Then, of course, because Arabic is written from right to left, and because she is making a list, the designating numbers are on the right side of the paper, with the attached item streaming left.   I noted these things quickly and matter-of-factly.  But then, for some reason I can’t explain exactly, when I noticed she was putting the period/full stop to the left of the number, I got a rush of delight.    

 The delight of discovery.  Of surprise.  Of difference.  Of being reminded so gently and simply that my most basic assumptions of normality, of the natural order of things (in this case quite literally) are, of course,  not absolutes.  It reminded me why I live life the most eyes wide open when I am in cultures other than my own – I am addicted to the rush of discovery of difference.   

Part 2

Truth be told, when I  saw this full stop on the left side of the number, alongside the joy was a tiny feeling of shame.  Shame at this sign, albeit small, of my ever present cultural arrogance.   I knew this when I had to suppress my desire to nudge the person next to me (a Jordanian) and point this wildly wonderful practice out.  I’ll leave it to you to play the scene out.  (Now I know that even if I had nudged my neighbor, the fall-out would have been negligible, pretty much just me looking a little foolish at being delighted by what to him would have been the most mundane and normal of practices. )

Part 3

What I most love about this example is the metaphor it holds for the minefield and flower-field possibilities of crossing cultures.   In this case, my assumption of sameness was corrected easily, privately and painlessly by a flipchart right in front of my eyes – and I got the joy of discovery of difference – what I will now call the flower-field effect.  But what about all those times I assume sameness with no flipchart in front of me showing me, no in fact, not the same.   This gets compounded when my other-culture colleagues, friends, hosts, might also be bound in their assumptions of what is normal, what everyone knows.    We miss one another, we don’t make progress, we offend, but are baffled as to why.  Given my frustrated work experiences in Jordan, I am guessing that those times happened often. 

Part 4

At end, I am grateful for this most tiny of punctuation marks reminding me to go slowly, question even when I am sure, watch, watch, watch, be alert for when my normal doesn’t seem to hold.  And then, the times when I see it, when I see the difference, to take it in, examine its meaning and extract what it tells me, especially what it tells me about my own culture.  

Because after all, ultimately, the gift of swimming in the oceans of other cultures is that you no longer swim blind in your own.  

Post Script:   If you ever happen to need to staple a document written in Arabic, please remember to staple it top right corner.  

Water and a Horse Named Hubris

My first day in Jordan I went to the rooftop restaurant at the hotel for lunch.   As per usual in a developed country with good infrastructure, I asked for a glass of water-  specifying tap, as opposed to bottled.  After several attempts to jump the language barrier, I was finally somehow able to make the leap and the light of understanding came into my waiter's eyes.   He came back with a glass of nice cold water.

It was small though, so it wasn't long before I raised my glass in the universal sign for "More please."   Obligingly, he came back with another.   My third time though got me not another glass of water but the maitre d' who told me it was actually against their policy to serve non-bottled water.

What the hell!   I tried to explain, without letting indignation seep into my tone, the environmental crime that bottled water represents - of course there is the fact that these stupid plastic bottles are filling up our landfills, and we are sucking up energy to manufacture and transport them, not to mention that plastic + heat or + sun or + a little damage releases harmful chemicals into the water.

I quickly learned that again language was a jump too far.   He responded to my rant by telling me, with pride, that Jordan now carries a whole range of brands and sizes of bottled waters for me to select from. To show me he leaves and comes back with 3 different types.

I complimented him on the selection, but tried again to explain my objection and why I would prefer water from the cooler.  He tells me that the cooler water is for staff, not customers.  They can't be assured that the cooler water is 100% hygienic.  After my non-success with my environmental rant I didn't touch the injustice of that reasoning.   I decided to keep to the environmental moral high ground and did not have any more water with my meal.

In my room in the evenings I filled my glass with tap water and smugly drank it up, doing my part to save the environment.

THEN - over the next days, I started talking to my Jordanian colleagues. Turns out NO ONE trusts or drinks the tap water, everyone drinks only bottled water!   They get big old 5 gallon water cooler-type bottles for their homes and work.  At workshops, they serve little plastic cups of sealed water.  I immediately started feeling sick, wondering what bacteria I had been ingesting over the past days as I road my moral high horse.

That night at dinner when the maitre d' came to greet me, I meekly dismounted from my horse named Hubris, and ordered their largest bottle of water.

(Now back at home, I decided to do a little research on the safety of Jordanian tap water.  Not surprisingly, it is not straightforward. The Jordanian water authority insists the water is perfectly drinkable and meets all international standards.   80% of the central region's population believes otherwise and will not drink it.

Jordan is the 4th poorest country when it comes to water availability (remind me to never ever decide to live there - being a huge water drinker, the prospect of water scarcity puts a primal fear like no other into me)!    Thus, they have had trouble keeping a constant flow of water which can lead to intermittent contamination from sewer lines.  That combined with pipes in need of repair, and chemical processes which take place between purification and reaching the tap leading to carcinogenic compounds lead me to think that if I ever go back to Jordan, I will be investing in the biggest bottle of water I can find.)