Tea, Jazz, Slums and Livestock: Making Sense of My Surroundings

At least one time everyday the following thought goes through my head: “I can’t believe this is my life.” This happens at completely random moments (when sitting in autos, when walking through a market, when visiting microfinance customers in the slums, or while having a cup of tea), but always requires a moment to mentally remove myself from my surroundings and make sense of what is going on.

So exactly where do I fit into this environment? That seems to be in a state of constant flux-- both with respect to each new person that I meet here, and my self-perception that changes each new day that I live here. To the vegetable stall owner who learned about where I work, I’m the American defying the stereotype of being power hungry and lacking compassion to help others. To the auto driver I’m the rich American who can afford to pay double or triple the normal fare. To the expat or professional contact I’m the young idealist willing to take a little career risk. And to my maid…well, I have no idea how she perceives me since we don’t speak the same language (but damn she can cook and clean!).

That leaves my constantly evolving understanding of self. I go from defying my American government and culture one minute, to clinging onto anything that reminds me of America the next. When people ask my religion I feel slightly ashamed that I don’t identify myself with any religion in a country where people’s lives are defined by it. And how is it that I rationalize ignoring a small child begging for money, when such a small amount to me means so much to her?

All of this leaves me wondering how I ended up making a life for myself in such an unlikely place and why this has been something that I’ve wanted to do for so long. I didn’t really imagine that I would be spending my commute to work trudging through ankle deep mud and dodging various forms of livestock’s excrement. Likewise, I didn’t think I would end up spending an evening in a smoky coffee shop listening to a local jazz band’s rendition of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” Yet these are the things that make up my life now. They provide the same stress, enjoyment, laughs, satisfaction, etc. that my old routine back in D.C. did. So as I go through the process of figuring out how I fit in--wondering how my life changed so drastically—I find it easiest to just brush the “wow this is my life” thought aside, and move on as if this is exactly how my life should be right now.