I Am Happier To Know You

Before leaving the United States for Egypt in 2001, I had always lived in or on the perimeter of a major city. When my children were very small, my friends were mostly limited to neighborhood stay at home moms. Until I became involved in community and political volunteer work, I often felt brain dead from the lack of intellectual stimulation. These activities, and later fulltime work, quickly expanded my community of friends from many different occupations and lifestyles. Outside my immediate neighborhood, it was easy to find people with similar interests and to fit in.

I have found that rural residents are far less open to newcomers simply because they are not family. This is as true in New England as it is in Texas. At the local farmer’s co-op, I was taken aback by a comment made by a young man whose family has lived in the area for generations.

We had talked to him about clearing some land with his bulldozer before a neighbor told us about a mulching system that, unlike a bulldozer, does not destroy the roots of the large trees we wanted to save. When he called to schedule the work, Chuck had to tell him that we had changed our minds. When I saw him at the co-op, he did not seem upset. His only comment was “I was really worried that I called too early for people like you.”

“Excuse me,” I replied. “What is a ‘people like you’?”

He stammered for a moment and said, “You know, city folk.”

I laughed in response.

“Why did you move here anyway?” he asked with obvious curiosity.

“We came here to show ‘people like you’ that liberals are as kind and as good a neighbor and friend as you are,” I replied tartly. He laughed.

He had hit a nerve. I adamantly dislike being boxed up as a one-dimensional human being. Just like him, I am multidimensional.

What he did not know is that I have made a conscious decision to become an active member of our community. There are liberal areas a little more than an hour away where I would find it easier to “fit in” but I do not live there. I live here.

I wrote “I Am Happier to Know You” because I wanted to share my discovery that despite our cultural and religious differences, we are all the same. I believe that learning about each other and then honoring and respecting our differences is the key to world peace.

So. I am still walking my talk, but now within my own culture. I have retained my sense of humor and understanding that when we understand and respect our differences we can then build upon our similarities.

Copyright 2010 by Jeanne M. Eck. All rights reserved. For permission to reprint or to quote extensively from this article, please contact the author at iamhappiertoknowyou.com

I love country life. In many ways, I am seeing that it is a lifestyle I have yearned for.

I love the quiet, the opportunity to watch wildlife from every window of our house, even the constant parade of workers (“My harem” as Chuck calls them) who are implementing the changes that are turning our home and land into exactly what we want.

Now that the inside of our house is nearly finished (for now), with the arrival of warmer weather I have been concentrating on the removal of an abundance of weeds that have taken over every landscaped inch around our home. I have tilled each section, laid about a thousand yards of what I call “weed rugs” to suffocate the pests into submission and scattered nearly 200 bags of mulch. The ultimate goal is to achieve low maintenance and simple, but beautiful gardens for at least a few years.

I have learned to drive our truck that will also safely pull our horse trailer. Because of its massive, intimidating size, I call it “Mr. Testosterone.” It seems to know its way to every hardware store and nursery within a hundred mile radius! Our Kubota, an all terrain vehicle has been dubbed “Kubudda” because it has a large bed that makes my life so much easier by hauling the tools I need to work around the property.

I have learned that my desire to protect all wildlife is not always in its or our best interest. Last week a beautiful skunk began to wander around the yard during daylight hours. Since they are nocturnal, this was a warning sign I did not understand until our tile mason alerted me to the real possibility that the skunk was rabid. He killed it with his small shotgun. Immediately thereafter, vultures appeared to do their job. To my surprise, they sat and looked at the skunk as if trying to decide where to begin their small feast. I later learned that prey birds and animals intuitively know not to eat a rabid animal. Therefore, without touching it, I thanked the birds for being so smart and scooped the skunk into a wooden box. I placed it in our burn barrel (used to burn paper, etc. since we do not have garbage pickup), poured a little gasoline and some fresh wildflowers on top and cremated the poor thing.

I have learned how to make nonpoisonous weed killer and how to treat our ponds for algae and plants without harming the water or the environment and to use the wonderful resources available to us through the local Farm Bureau and Department of Agriculture.

I have come to understand why I, too will have only a farmer’s tan. There are fire ants everywhere. They attack in seconds and leave painful welts on any part of the body that is exposed. If you are allergic to them, the only thing that will save your life is an EpiPpen. We now have two.

Steel-toe boots and long pants are a necessity even when working in the yard. When using any kind of machinery, they protect against accidents to the feet and legs, bites from fire ants and any poisonous snakes that have gotten past our feisty outdoor cats. A wide-brim hat is necessary if you do not want to fry your brains in the strong sunlight.

Being around and observing our neighbors, I have developed a deep appreciation for their work ethic and willingness to drop what they are doing to help someone in need. They get up early and go to bed pretty close to sunset. Whether raising cattle, chickens, other livestock, hay, fruit, nuts or vegetables, their lives revolve around the weather. Too much rain is as bad as too little.

To my amusement, after a heavy rain, workmen are uncomfortable driving on our dirt road. To them minor flooding and mud holes are waiting to suck their trucks into oblivion. Since they have never experienced a monsoon season or roads that are impassable in perfect weather, I chuckle silently. It is all about what you are used to!

The people around me work seven days a week with time off for church on Sunday. In their spare time, they make money from cottage industries. Our painter and his wife cater community events and grow corn so that they can create a maze of cornstalks school groups enjoy losing themselves in. Others teach school during the day, tutor in the afternoon and work as wait staff in local hangouts on weekends. They always have time to help a neighbor and host parties in community parks everyone is invited to. Compared to them, my life is a breeze.

People are friendly. They wave when you pass them on the road and welcome you into their stores and homes. Everyone has time to talk about the weather and how the TV meteorologist messed up the forecast again. Until they know you, they will call you Ma’am or Miss or Mister. When you offer someone a cool drink, they rarely accept unless you have a relationship with them.

As always, it is wonderful to be busy, and to choose to take the time to observe the wonders around me, and the opportunity to think while working outside…

One of the most important facets of living in a foreign country is to respect and stay open to understanding the culture that surrounds you. It is equally important to give yourself permission to decline to participate in cultural practices that make you uncomfortable or may, when you return to your own culture, put you at physical or cultural risk.

For example, when I lived in Mumbai, India I had to decide that the cultural norm of not giving money or produce to aggressive beggars was one I shouldn’t break because it attracted more beggars to the area and made the lives of shopkeepers more difficult. This was a thorny decision for me to make because I believe that human being to human being, it is everyone’s responsibility to feed those who are hungry even if the chances are high that they are professional beggars who work for the local mafia. So, to compensate, I worked hard with a local expatriate club to raise money to feed and train the poor.

In India, it is impolite to yell or to push a stranger, but beggars often became physically aggressive with foreigners (something they would never do to an Indian). When I was touched or grabbed, not only did I physically shake the aggressor off, I also yelled bloody murder. Why? Because in my culture, and in most parts of the world, if a stranger grabs hold of you, you are in physical danger and must stop the assault before it becomes more aggressive.

Some Indians jump ahead in line or interrupt a transaction in progress so they can be waited on first.  It is common for a merchant to try and fill several orders at once. I quickly learned to say as appropriate, “Please finish with me first,” or “Please wait your turn.” I don’t know if it was rude to stand my ground, but it felt good when I did and the errant customer usually backed off very quickly.

In Egypt, when interacting with men I didn’t know, I had to learn to be less polite and friendly than my cultural norms dictate. This is because the assumption is often made that as a foreigner and a non Muslim, foreign woman are more sexually available.  Because I’m not Muslim, I did not wear a headscarf, but I dressed appropriately for the culture by wearing pants or long skirts and dresses but, as is the cultural norm, on hot days I did not wear long-sleeve tops because they were too hot and my menopausal body couldn’t take it.

At social events in Mexico, one is supposed to greet and say goodbye to every guest with a kiss and or touch of the arm. Although I’ve learned to “almost” make the complete rounds, to kiss people I don’t know makes me feel like a phony and conflicts with my cultural belief that if one “works the room” it is because they are campaigning for elective office or trying to sell something. Conversely, as an American I’m a natural hugger and toucher with those I’m fond of and happy to see which can make some Europeans very uncomfortable.

It is always important to be respectful of your host countries culture. As the world becomes more global, it is equally important for those from a host culture to understand that we all have been raised with cultural norms and taboos we’re not comfortable compromising and to never jump to the conclusion that someone else is rude because their ways are different. After all, they may find themselves being judged just as harshly by those who haven’t taken the time to learn about and to respect their customs and they may miss out on the opportunity for a wonderful friendship.

Copyright 2009 by Jeanne M. Eck. All rights reserved. For permission to reprint or to quote extensively from this article, please contact the author at iamhappiertoknowyou.com