9/30/08

I realized something the other day: I’m an immigrant. For the first time in my life I can relate to what many people in American have experienced: coming to a new country with little (or no) idea of the culture, language, or customs of that country. Although I’ve travelled before, I’ve always been to Spanish speaking nations where I could at least get by with my language skills. Here, when I arrived I didn’t know how to buy water (it’s still a struggle)! I don’t know the customs here. When I shake water off my hands after washing them, I’m insulting and/or cursing the home (I’m not sure which exactly). Smiling at a man my age is completely inappropriate and is evidence of American woman’s ‘looseness.’

But it’s not just the language and the culture, there’s also a barrier between myself and the people here. I’m alone. Alone, as I’ve never been before. There is no one near me that can relate to my experiences growing up, my world perspective, my habits; no one who longs for an espresso-stand with unparalleled longing.

I have more experience than many with the immigrant struggle. I’ve taken college courses about immigration and refugees. I’ve worked with Hispanic immigrants at Casa Latina. I’ve read many books and memoirs written by immigrants. Currently I’m reading a book titled What is the What, a memoir of a Sudanese ‘Lost Boy’ who compares his life in the Sudan and Ethiopian refugee camps to his new life in Atlanta. , Confusion, disappointment, frustration, loneliness. Before, I couldn’t in any way relate to these experiences. Even now I know that I can’t truly relate. I’m a semi-immigrant. I don’t need to worry about finding work or a place to stay. But in some ways I can relate, I can at least relate to the emotional/physiological challenges, and I think that’s an incredible thing.

Even as I write this, a new scenario presents itself. Two men arrive to drink tea with my family. Where I sit typing at my computer is directly visible from the dinner table. Do I get up and greet the men? Do I wait and see if my family calls me? If I don’t greet them am I being rude? If I greet them am I being forward and presumptuous? My choice? Move out of sight and wait. No one came to bring me to the table, so I assume I made the right choice. As I waited, I listened to their conversation. For a few minutes it centered around me. I couldn’t understand all of it, but mostly it was basic information: who I am, where I came from, information regarding teacher salaries in the U.S. that I shared with my host brother this morning at the breakfast table.

I figuring out how to live....